A/N: Something made me feel bad about leaving this as a oneshot, so I guess I'll make it a threeshot! :D

I. Come Back

I'm lying on the miserable bed that is my only comfort. I dig my face into the pillow and try to forget the pain that I am in. I'm ashamed of my feelings, or lack thereof. I hate how I have no control over what is going on.

It's not the only thing I hate.

I stopped fighting a long time ago. I'm just too weak to face the consequences.

I haven't been so afraid of the dark since I was eight, and back then I had my parents to help me. Here, there is no one to turn to, no one to tell me the lies that I so desperately need to hear. At this point, I'm not sure if I even want to hear those lies.

Because I already know that everything won't be alright.

What happened that made me so reliant on him?

He has nothing that I want or need, he's done nothing for me. Everything he has done to me has been in his own interest.

I can't explain why. I'm not even sure what I should call the feeling I get when I'm with him. Something between fear and excitement, love and hatred.

II. As It Is

I wonder if it's possible for murderers to feel guilty. Are murderers people who do it for the rush, and feel bad about it later? Or do they not feel bad at all?

Tracing invisible patterns that mean nothing, I close my eyes, hoping that it will be the thing to take me home.

Lately he's been giving me these strange looks. Like most of my own feelings, I can't put a label on it. It's got small traces of remorse in there, but it's like he's remembering something that he'd rather forget.

I want to laugh in his face and scream at him, but I wanted to comfort him, also.

If you are a victim, you put the blame on yourself. Because in a way, it is your fault, even if people say that you've done nothing to provoke it.

What would he do if I told him this?

III. Someday

I honestly don't remember what the sun looks like. All I've known for the past week is this damp, cold, miserable place that's haunted by the ghosts I cannot see.

Just seven days here, and I am already on the verge of ending my own life.

Every time in my mind, right before I fall asleep, I pray that he will realize what he's done, and everything it entails. The concentrated pain that's manifested itself in the form of tear stains. The unnamed feelings he's stirred in me, and why I'm experiencing them.

Like so many other times, I want to hit him and hold his hand. I want to kill him, and I want to save him.

Reviews make me happy, as usual.