My Bloody Valentine

How can I know so much about someone and then again know nothing? You were the

object of my affection. No, wait; it was not affection, it was an obsession; it

was my mere sexual desire. I saw you as I wished to see you. Always from away

for fear that my vision of you would crumble if communication between you and I

were to ever occur.

Tuesday was the day the closest I had ever come to you. I was close enough to

smell you, the lilac scent of your skin and hair. You would think I would have

given a spoken word to you, or cower out of fear, but I did none of those

things. I simply stared as you as you eyed me for a moment and turned to talk to

him; that man that you ever so gently leaned into, that man that touched you

like I should have been. I saw the way that your body purred when his skin

touched yours. It was almost unbearable.

I stared at the scene of both of you until my eyes become bleary and my veins

became inflamed with something I could not describe. After several moments the

haze within my eyes dissipated and all that was left was pure unadulterated

rage. My fists were clenched and I felt betrayal. You had abandoned me. At that

moment I wanted to prove myself but I didn’t. I simply walked away allowing my

rage to subside.

I know that my obsession was nothing more than a mere childish illusion. I knew

nothing of you. But still I yearned, I ventured farther into my illusion of you,

I yearned for that illusion because I am nothing more than a child in mentality;

what I cannot have through myself I will make it my priority to achieve it

through any other possible goal. I allowed it to progress to the point that I no

longer wanted to feel you and love you. I wanted to hear you scream, I wanted to

see your face contort in disgust of my actions. I wanted you to feel the pain I

felt for so long.

Because of that, I am here, as you are here, as you are tied up and gagged. As

your muffled screams are shrouded by the expulsion of the reeking smell of cum,

blood and god knows what in this room and oversaturated by my screams of ecstasy

as I do things I could have only imagined to you.

I’ve kept you in this room for days now. I should feed you, but I do not wish to

do so. I want to see your pain. I do not want to simply show you what I feel; I

want you to feel that my love is your pain; that my love is your beautiful blood

smeared against the sheets binding you; that my love is your complete and utter

desecration.

Today is St. Valentine’s Day, somewhat coincidental, wouldn’t you say my

sweetheart? For today I will show you how far my admiration truly stretches for

you. Do not scream my dear. This glimmering metal tool will prove me to you once

and for all. I will prove to you that I love you more than anything in the

world. Let this blade carve my love into your flesh ever so delicately. Please

do not scream my dear, this knife is only to show you my love; my love for you,

my valentine, my beautiful bloody valentine.