He needs me.
I know that this is wrong.
He's an evil tom: twisted and sick.
But I can't help it.
I can't leave him.
I just can't.
He needs me.
He really does.
He really does need me.
He really does love me.
It's such a strange thing, to be needed.
It changes everything.
He needs me.
Being needed gives you a sense of responsibility.
You wouldn't abandon your mewling kitten.
Because it needs you and you love it.
And this isn't any different.
When someone needs you in that way ... you can't help but love them.
He needs me.
The others can't see it.
They don't understand.
They think that I'm fooling myself.
Making excuses.
But I'm not.
He needs me.
Who else would love him after being used in such a way?
Nobody.
Except for me.
I'm the only one.
The only one who can help him.
He needs me.
I can fix him.
I can make him better.
Make him whole.
It would be cruel to leave him.
To betray him.
He needs me.
And I need him too.
I understand how he feels.
I feel lost, alone, and alienated at times.
But having someone who needs me makes it better.
And I love him for it: for needing me.
He needs me.
They tell me to leave him.
To run away and never look back.
But I can't.
I must stay true to him.
Just until he doesn't need me anymore.
He needs me.
He can hurt me all he likes.
I don't care.
Because I know the truth.
I know that deep down, he really cares about me.
And that is why I can't leave him.
He needs me.
At least that's what I tell myself.
When I curl up in my bed.
Alone in the darkness.
My eyes full of unshed tears.
And a new bruise on my face.
He needs me. He needs me. He needs me.