I am going to kill Izzy MacPherson.

You remember, right? How we, but mostly you, thought if there was anyone to be a monster; to be the hidden, grotesque violence; to be the misunderstood, it was me. To snap, if anything, all at once, it would be me to break before you—

And I think I have been broken for much longer than you realize. I think I have been broken all along.

And I think I will break your image, now, too. I really think so.

I’m going to ask you if you’re missing a spine, spineless, yeah, to see how you might feel when I carve out the long line of thin skin which curves at the base and at the stem protecting the bones there. I would pull out each vertebra from your musical chord like rotten teeth falling from a smoker’s mouth. I would then show you what you were made of.

So you remember the first time, that very premature moment, when you came over and we ordered pizza and diet coke and watched Final Destination like it was the first stop we were going to take. You remember, everywhere, all of the knives I had lying around and the possibility of my brokenness taking you unawares. I thought of that little thing there, while I was contemplating it, standing behind you on the love-seat.

I traced your hairline with my finger an inch above your head. I thought of how much fun I would have peeling the skin from your scalp like you were a candle with too much wax. I smiled always, never, sometimes. That’s how it works, you see—because I’m the broken one. Always, never, sometimes.

You remember, right? All the way down to the warehouse, you should remember—

I didn’t take you by surprise. I didn’t have to cut you open. I didn’t even have to smile like I usually do.

That’s what it was, wasn’t it? It was my face, right? I didn’t have anything else left to give you, see, I just couldn’t handle the thought of it—maybe you’re with him when you’re not with me, maybe that’s all you wanted me for, and my mind races past all the really, really normal things. Maybe because you noticed that I’ve always, never, sometimes been broken, yeah?

But of course, you have to remember, that one time…

That one time you tried to leave me. You remember it, right?

Right,

Because here you are—all tied up with the loose ends and you’re screaming let me out, let me out.

But I'm not going to do that, sweet pea. Always, never, and sometimes.