They're coming to take me away

1. I promised you I wouldn't do it again. I promised, but still ended up grabbing the hem of your blue dress and begging, not caring when the expensive fabric ripped under my claw-like hands. It echoed a thousand other times where I'd begged you, the tears running down my face like the wine we'd just drunk.

I promised. But when the day came, I'd lost it, and there was no return.

2. "God, you cling like nobody else I've ever been with! For heaven's sake, let the fuck go of me!"

"But you can't be frightened of me… don't go, I'll lose it, please?"

3. The mirror's in cracks on the floor. You're sitting against the bathtub, holding my bleeding hand, your kisses all over my face.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with you, Tramp?"

"I dunno, Lady," I answer you, feeling you wrap the gauze around my hand, the sting of antiseptic not numbing the row we've just had. Our nicknames are nearly a part of us, so close we can taste each other's fear.

Have I gone Berserk?

4. The nurses pushed me down. At any other time, I'd find their slender white hands an utter tease. Now, I was just numb. Cold. My mind singing stupidly a song I'd heard on the radio, to describe one in my position…

'They're coming to take me away, haha…'

5. You are in hysterics at the expression on my face. I'm not sure whether you know how deeply this is going- like little pins, or splinters, but each with a purpose, each hitting my heart and cutting a quivering piece off.

"Jesus, Tramp, I can't believe you. After all this, after everything you've put me through, you expect me to believe it when you say you'll go crazy if I walk out this door?"

I'm on my knees, begging you before I can believe what you're saying, the mascara running down my face and the look of contempt in your eye seals the deal.

"Look, Tramp. I've loved you… but I can't do this any more. You're not really here! Every time I say something, you respond with 'please don't go, Lady', and I can't take it! there's nothing left- no love, no fun, just obsession! I can't love you like this!"

The red mist descends as you sloppily kiss me goodbye for the last ever time oh God no Lady don't go Please For Christ's sake-

The door snaps in my face, your hysterical weak giggly sobs echoing down the hallway, the bag of stuff you'd packed leaving a dent on the couch.

6. How dare you. How dare you do this. I'm all alone here. I cleaned your house. I cooked for you. I loved you all the time you were having issues at work. I even swept up all the glass from the mirror- look, see, I have little mirror splinters in my hands and knees from working the mess out of the cracks in the bathroom floor and waiting for you to call me. See? SEE?!

For God's sake, just answer me Lady, you mangy mutt. I'm sick of waiting for a reply. Lady, come back.

Lady, I love you.

Please?

Look, I've made some food for you. The casserole you really like and you always giggle when I feed you some and then you stroke my hacked-off bangs and call me by my real name and say you love me. Yeah? Sound good? Come here. Please?

I really didn't mean to swear so badly in the last message I left. I want to erase it now- I left three more to say sorry. I promise, the wideness of my eyes Isn't the alcohol, it's only painkillers. Maybe if I take enough, it will stop hurting.

Look here, I wrote your name with a biro into my wrist- it hurt like fuck but now I have a tattoo of you there. Why won't it stop bleeding?

God, Lady, I love you.

Please come home- tape my wrist (oh fuck, did I do that?! Jesus, look at all the blood! I need you!), kiss me like you do, take my girlish little body in your arms and hug me tight. Please?

PLEASE LADY?!

7. The police woman is sitting with me, holding my hand. If I wasn't so wound up, maybe I might notice that she looks like you. But I can't stop staring at the blood caking my hair, my jeans, my fingers. I raise up the hand she's not holding, and lick at it before I lose you.

8. Security Camera 003: Transcript by DCI Charles Fox. To be read out in court.

Suspect: Lady? Lady, is that you?

Victim: Tramp? What are you doing here?

(Henceforward, abb. V used for Vic, S used for Susp.)

S: Lady, please come home? I've lost it. Look at my wrist? Please? I love you, Lady.

V: (Horrified gasp) Oh dear God! Tramp, what have you fucking done to yourself!

S: (Staggers over, knocks over glass on table) Please?

V: Stay away from me. I…

S: What do you mean? Lady…

V: Just, please… Go home, calm down, have a drink, and I'll call you in the…

What's that, Tramp? What have you got there?

S: (Sobbing, advances, pulling knife out of coat) I… hate you now. Why won't you hold me? HOLD ME, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!

V: Ok, ok, I'm coming over. Please, put the knife down darling. Please? Do it slowly. For me?

S: Ok, look… (drops knife to floor) See? Now come and hold me. Do it now. NOW!

V: Shh, shh… it's ok, Tramp, come here.

(The two embrace. V looks up to camera, mouths 'help me'. S, still crying, pushes V away.)

S: Who were you talking to?

V: Tramp(Starts crying) It's ok, I'm not talking.

S: I heard a voice. I heard you saying something. I heard you say you love me. You do, don't you? Do you love me, Lady? Do you love me?

V: Of course. (Shakily, moves closer to phone)

S: Of course.

(V lunges for phone, S instantly grabs her wrist and throws her bodily at the table- sound of breaking glass and a scream as V falls on the glass. S crawls over to her, grabs her hair and kisses her roughly.)

S: I love you, Lady. C'mon, play with me!

V: (Crying harder) Please, STOP IT! Tramp, I'm terrified! Please, stop it!

(Sounds of heavy breathing, terrified, gasping sobs. S raises the knife.)

S: I thought you loved me, Lady.

V: I do, I love- (the next word cut off by screaming. S slashes repeatedly at V's torso. Two minutes later, the screaming stops. S leans over and kisses v tenderly- gasping breaths are heard, and one set stops after another minute.)

S: There. Play nicely with me, Lady. Lady? C'mon, Lady, get up now. I've finished my game. Look, we can go home and watch Star Trek reruns and eat popcorn and you can tell me it was a really good game. Lady? Come on. Lady?

(Silence: S shakes V, hard, slaps her across face. After thirty seconds, the screaming begins.)

9. Her face, her beautiful expressionate face, was untouched by the blood. Her hair had turned a horrible shade of red from the blood. Her lips were white. Her face was blue. Her hands were red. I heard her say I love you whilst she fought for breath.

I thought it was a bad dream.

I thought she'd wake up next to me, worried by my bad dreams and the screaming fits I had from them, and kiss me, and hold me close.

I was wrong.

10. Strange patient. I've always thought she would say something about why she did what she did. But it's no use now, Sir- she's not said a word since the day three years ago that she was brought in. I know… shame, ain't it, to see such a pretty one go so wrong. They say it was her girlfriend she killed… now, our Shirelle has a friend who… erm… likes other women that way, and they're nice as pie- always have Shirelle over with her fiancée Graham for tea and cake, lovely little two-bed house at the end of the estate… What's that, Sir? No, no, I'm afraid if you did try to talk to her, she just doesn't hear you.

11. April 13th. They found her covered in blood, slumped against the door, the broken mirror in fragments in the bathroom. The trail of blood extended from the bathroom to the door, and the bloodied note, when they found it, made her nurse cry.

Sweetheart… I'm so sorry for what I did, Lady. I can't wake up from my nightmare. Please, remember when I had that dream about the giants eating us, and we just took the piss and you stayed up stroking my hair til I'd fallen asleep again. Or when we went to the fair and you got candyfloss all over us and we just ended up taking a bath together, and you giggled every time I soaped your sides down. Or how we got our nicknames: you, the beautiful girl from the posh side of town with your sexy RP accent, and I, from the trashy part with the Cockney accents and the Pearly Queens. You were my Pearly Queen. Your smooth, pale skin against my darker tan, just like pearls… your eyes, the gleaming blue, like freshwater ones in shells… your teeth, the ones that moghuls sell palaces for. You were what I worshipped, I breathed in air and it was your breath. My small figure, with its boyish shape, the straight messy dark hair cut into a jagged emo fringe, made you happy, made you smile, made you the most beautiful creature in existence. You are still there, I know. But most of the time, I just make you up.

I love you, Lady. I need you, and I'm coming. Will you be there?