Some things are inhumane.

Which is precisely why you're here. There are things that are wrong, things that should never be inflicted on another human being. And you've sure inflicted them on me.

Maybe in your eyes, I am not worthy of humane treatment. Maybe in your eyes, I'm not pretty enough, blonde enough, and perfect enough (like you are) to be regarded as anything more than excess matter. Either way, you've caused me too much pain to simply ignore.

It's a wonder I used to want to be your friend, considering you shoved everything I did for you in my face. Because you don't want equals, much less friends. You only want inferiors. Slaves. People who will beg you for your friendship (though they are denied).

Sure, we all have faults, but that's just immoral.

So here you are, paying your price to me. Duct-taped to the wall.

You had a problem with the fact that I didn't believe you to be above me. And you were not pleased that, when you got something you didn't deserve, I didn't just shrug it off and say "Oh, she always gets what she wants."

So you declared us at war, and convinced yourself that there were two sides. Your side had about twenty people. You brainwashed all my friends into joining you, and soon my side had no one but me.

And you made up stories, which your followers so willingly believed. You won sympathy and more slaves by saying I tried to kill you. You worked mercilessly to prove that you were loved by everyone, and that I was evil.

In one of your stories, I locked you in a bathroom, and you nearly died.

Then you told me you slit your wrists. You claimed you had about ten mental disorders, and you were suicidal, which was all my fault. You managed to land me in counseling.

You threatened to kill me.

And that's just sick. Out of line. Insane. Intolerable.

Which is why you're duct-taped to the wall.

Your mascara's running, and you're whining about how after all I've put you through, your only wish is to die.

I can grant you that wish.

I take my knife---my only remaining friend---and plunge it through your flesh, straight into your heart.


A/N: Okay, I know that was short. But see, you lived, didn't you? This was kind of personal experience, kind of ironic, kind of JtHM, and kind of sleep-deprived. That's all I can say. Now...REVIEW!!! IT'S QUITE SIMPLE, REALLY!