All I ever wanted was for you to look at me.

The stronger the love you have for someone, the more you hate them and the harder it gets to forgive them. You can't forgive or forget, no matter how hard you try and yet your love only continues to grow but so does your hatred.

In the beginning, I could only watch you from afar. I'd follow your every move with my eyes. As you laughed with your friends, flirted with countless of girls, as the teachers scolded you and as you worked to reach your dream. I liked it best when you gave it your all playing basketball. I was jealous.

I loved you so much that I wanted to hug you and have your big arms wrap around me. I loved you so much that I wanted to rip away the girls that clung to you and make your friends come to hate you. Jealousy devoured me.

I hated you. I hated the way you easily gave in to a girl's seduction. I hated the way you let your friends take advantage of you. I hated that you got so much attention and most of all I hated the way you turned away from me whenever our eyes would meet.

While you were surrounded by all that love, I had nothing. No one called out my name, while your name was said with the lips of hundreds of people. The people who I was supposed to call my family didn't care about me. They were in their own worlds. When I got home, you could feel the house shake from their screaming. My big brother moved out of the house to live in the dorms at his college. My younger sister was too busy with her acting that she didn't bother trying to understand what was going on. Mom would spoil her because she wanted little sis to follow in her footsteps and continue her dream. When Dad would lose his job once again, he'd come home with beer in his hand and wouldn't stop drinking until he passed out.

I was tired. Tired of having to go home to that everyday. Tired of feeling as if I wasn't breathing. I'm here, right? I'm alive, right? It was getting hard for me to answer those questions. So I decided to do something in order to become special to someone. I slept with any guy who'd ask me. I'd make them lust after me, love me. Love me. So that I know that I exist.

That was when you acknowledged my presence. It was a little thing. You probably don't even remember it. To you it was something normal, you'd do it again without thinking. For me, it meant so much more. It was on a night where there was little light, and I was being harassed by an older guy who I used to sleep with. You grabbed my hand, pretended you knew me and said, "Sorry for making you wait, Amaya." It wasn't at the fact that you helped me that my eyes went wide. And I didn't give a damn about that old pervert. The sound that came from your mouth, with a deep and gentle voice, was my name.

Then I fell in lov...no, I became obsessed.

Do you still remember that day? When you accidentally saw me after school in that empty classroom with your best friend? You were looking at us from the door, unable to turn away. You couldn't tear your eyes away from us, from me. I felt delighted, having had captivated your attention for the first time since I met you. It was like I had finally captured you. I couldn't help but tease you.

You covered your mouth to keep from making any sound. You stared at me with your big, shocked eyes. Even though you were startled, you didn't leave until the end. I had you in my grasp, that one time, you were mine. From then on I decided, at that same time, in that same class, I'd wait for you. And like I predicted, you came back and watched us. Simply watching, silently watching.

At first I was okay with that. As long as I had your attention, that was fine with me. But then I wanted more. More. More. Touch me please...You never held me, you just looked at me and your friend. When we were finished, you'd turn your head away and walk off without saying anything.

Hey, Ren, tell me please, what do I have to do to get you to love me? As I lie under the weight of your friend's body, all I can think about is you, imagining that it was your hands that caressed this stained body of mine. Imagining that it was you who laid on top of me.

And then...I finally realized something.

With the knife hidden in my right hand, with my pulse quickening, your image seared my mind. It was as if you were facing me, looking at me, like you did that first day. I point the tip of the knife to your back and smile. If I can't have you, then I would rather have your cold skin to touch.

Do you know how much I hate you? How much I love you? It's to the point of obsession.