I am a bad girl. Everyone talks about how innocent I am - but I'm not. I think things that I shouldn't. I am more cruel in my own heart than anyone else I know. It is a secret that I keep, and it hurts me not to show it to anyone. The suffering that I wish the other children could feel, the way my hands clench tight with the will to cause harm…

I have darkness in me.

But I believe that everyone does. I know that You do - You have made no effort to lie about it. I see it sometimes, in their eyes, before they close up and turn away.

He isn't like that. He seems almost proud of his darkness, of how much he manipulates others. He brags about it to his friends. I can almost, almost believe that he has worked out a way to control You. You always seem to be angry with him one day and have forgiven him the next.

This honesty. You have it, and he has it. Should I try to have it, as well?

"Ah, my dear girl. Welcome. It's been quite a while." He is standing in a ridiculous pose, waving a paper fan. As carefree as he looks, I can see his eyes narrowing, working out all the reasons I could be here, all the possible ways he could benefit from this.

I have to be straightforward. "I have a question, please."

"Of course, of course," he cries, snapping the fan closed and pushing it behind his ear, like a pen. He takes a seat behind his desk and waves for me to do the same.

Feeling small, I sit down and twist my hands together. "I want know how to make Him like me."

He pauses for a moment. When I look up at him, the fan is out from behind his ear and he is leaning on his elbows, studying me carefully. "It's been more than a year since he hurt you."

"I know that," I murmur.

"And you suddenly want to know now?"

"Yes."

"Why?" And I have known that he would ask me. He has to. His darkness is different from mine. Where I wish that people would be…hurt, he wishes to know everything. Because when he knows everything, he can change it just a little bit. He doesn't have to tell other people the same thing, really.

But I don't have to, either.

"I was trying to stay away from Him. He…scared me. I don't want to be hurt." I try to keep a straight voice, to look him in the eyes, but I can feel my cheeks getting warm and stare at my hands.

He leans back, now, hands laced together at his neck. "So, why do you want to have him like you?"

"It's safer," I say, almost on the heels of his own words.

"I see." The intense stare he gives me is unnerving. He's never done that to me before. Maybe I've never merited it? He sighs, eventually. "Listen, the closer you are to him, the more dangerous it becomes. It's one thing if he thinks that you've done something bad, but another if he thinks you've betrayed his trust. He has hurt all of us, at one time or another."

"What did he do to you?" I can't help asking.

He smiles. Why do we all smile when we aren't happy?

"Now then, my sweet, innocent girl," he says expansively, "why not tell me the truth? I'm very curious."

I flinch at the good-natured taunt. "I'm sorry!"

"Not at all. I'm proud of you. This just shows that you understand more about the world." He watches me closely. "But I'm afraid that I don't understand the need."

"I do want Him to like me," I explain desperately. "I've been trying to figure out how! I don't know what else to do. He always forgives you!"

"And do you love him?" The dark black of his eyes startles me. Why is he so angry?

"What do you mean?"

"What you want from him. Do you want him to like you, like a friend? Or do you want him to love you?"

His voice is rising. Why? Why is he so angry at the idea? Am I not allowed to want You to love me? Is he trying to protect me from You…or You from me?

I decide on the easiest answer. "As a friend, of course."

"Of course." He takes a deep breath, and the smile is back. "I must warn you. He doesn't like it when people are different than what he expects. And, also, he doesn't like people that don't…tell the truth."

I close my eyes in shame. "Don't tell him. I've been trying so hard…"

"Tell him everything, the next time you see him. That's all you can do." He sounds like a businessman, dismissing a meeting. "Do you need anything else?"

I do. It's something that he might understand. "Why?"

He merely raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, why does He want us all to love him? Why is He always so…"

"Childish?" he finishes for me.

"…god-like…" I whisper. "He wants us all to revere Him."

"And you do."

"Don't you? He is in control of so much of me, all the time. I can't help but trust him to take care of me."

And he just smiles again. I can't help but feel that he has manipulated me…somehow. A streak of defiance in me wants to find it and do the opposite, out of spite, but I won't. This is not his decision. It is mine. And I will do what I want.

I want You love me. I want You to trust me back. It's almost a weight upon me, the desire to have you simply care.

He didn't manipulate me into this, did he?

Or did You?

00000000000000000000000000000

Hmm. I don't know if I like what she's doing. It's fascinating to me, though. The hugely different way that they act toward her and Him, I mean. If you haven't read Akito's Love, don't worry, but if you have, you might notice how different they all are from themselves. It's amazing to me. Well, I have only four chapters left. Perhaps something will happen (:no plan whatsoever:)