What's that look? Are you feeling sad? Thinking about someone you're never going to see again? No... Someone else. Someone who you would give anything to see, just one more time. You're going to cry his name out at some point. They always do.
He wouldn't question himself after what you've done. Break your legs. Break your arms. Break your back. Break your face.
That old partner of yours. You still want him. I can hear it in your voice.
Why does it take a monster to see the truth? How could he look into my eyes and know these things I could never say aloud? Sometimes I can't help but believe that people with no conscience have a second sight. They have no need for the polite veneer of society, and so they simply dispense with it, freeing themselves to observe everything underneath. They believe that we are all like them, or that we would be if we only had the courage or the strength to act.
I did not allow him to see my darkness, he simply reached in and took it, as if it were his prerogative. My sins are not like his; I have never been violent, I have never stolen or taken anything that did not belong to me.
But he was right about me. I do still want you. I have never, for one moment, stopped wanting you. And through my pain, my degradation and my humiliation, while I waited first for torture and then for death, still I wanted you. I wanted you to save me, to make all of that darkness disappear, and to replace it with the light of day. You have always done that for me, in little ways that you probably didn't understand. But I needed it so much, just then. I needed you to tell me that I had had a nightmare, one of those insidious dreams caused by the stress of the job, but that I was awake now, and in your arms.
Instead, I had only the monster. I had his fists in my face, his tongue in my mouth, I had his blood, mixed with mine, all over my body. In his way, I suppose he was the one that saved me. In his terrible expression of rage and hatred, he was free, and I think when he named my secret, spoke it out loud, he liberated me as well. He liberated me to take him over, to fight him and to win. He shared with me his rage, and his hatred, until it became mine.
And I shared with him my love.