Oh, Bianca, if you could see me now. Without you, things aren't as clear, without you the will to live a better life is non-existant. Oh Bianca, I wish you could see me now. No, that's wrong. I wish I could see you now. Because I would give anything to once more see your beautiful eyes or that dimple in your left cheek. But you would hate me now, I have become what you told me not too. Mindlessly telling stories that aren't true, looting bodies, living for coin.
The first lie I ever told was when you asked me if I was the one who had left flowers on your doorsteps. You were such a diva. I still didn't know the warm heart that beat beneath that cold exterior. And yet, I already loved you. Folly of a boy.
I tried to not lie as we started courting in our youth. You hated lies, you said. You hated lies, and so I did my best to please you. I couldn't believe my luck that your pa let me court you. I wouldn't have done anything to jeapordise that.
The second time I lied to you was a silly lie. A uneccessary one. No, the dress did not make you look fat. Telling you that the dress perhaps made you look slightly bigger than you are, but still beautiful, didn't even cross my mind.
The third time I told you a lie, it was a lie of necessity. We would be fine. I would take care of you. Don't be scared.
The fourth time I lied, it was a lie just for me. I watched the disease hold you in its grasp, taking you away from me. You had taken over making weapons from your dad, and you were so good at it, but the first thing that the disease took was the movement in your fingers. The second was your eyesight. The third was your sanity. The lie I told was the lie I needed. You would soon get well again.
But no matter the lies I told you, what you did to me was worse. Because you promised, you promised, that you would stay with me. That you loved me too much to ever leave me. And that's the worst lie of them all.
