Liar, liar...

I am so grateful that Marcellus, or whatever his name really is, was almost killed. No, really. It was due to his injuries that I spent the night curled on a bed at the clinic, stroking his forehead and serving as warm human pillow rather than returning here to stab something. Alright. Someone.

It is a lie.

My world is a lie.

I am a lie.

It is all just one big fucking lie. I get it now. Fuck you very much for clarifying.

What baffles me is how the fuck I am still this stupid after so many years? I seriously have to question the grass I am sitting on and the stone I lean against to write this. Hell, even the fall of nearby water is suspect right now. I was stunned last night, but that wore off, revealing the depth of seething emotional chaos. How could I be so absolutely stupid???

How could you lie so smoothly? Yes, a better question.

I get it now though. Is that why you have so carefully kept Skirt and I apart in any physical way? Why when we are both in the same room you limit yourself to a touch of hair or a stroke of cheek? What would your precious love slave think if she knew what you were truly capable of? Because do not think for one hot second that you are not fully and utterly a Master. I may feel as though I know nothing at all right now but one truth remains.

I am a huntress. I can smell weakness on a man like death rotting him from the inside out. You are not weak.

When I think back to the kitchen, better a thousand times you had used that blade to raise a fresh scar. Those I understand. Pain I understand. The lingering remains of the men who have used me, I understand. Being just another whore, I understand. The way you could speak as you did, move as you did and know with every syllable that it was all a great big lie to you? That. I do not understand.

Fuck you.

You have been trying for far too long to live with one foot in both worlds and perhaps my role here is to be the truth you so desperately avoid but so dearly need to face. You cannot serve two homestones. You cannot keep your worlds, your desires, your truths so separate any longer, for as we see, the walls break down.

I feel filthy, like some sick pocket of rotted infection that you keep a bandage over, only to indulge yourself with in the fascination for exploring desires you believe she would never understand. I knew before ever I begged your collar that you love her, that she would always be first in your heart and mind and I was fine with that. I even willingly tempered my own desires around her so she would not feel ill at ease.

Now? Fuck that. If you will live a lie then I will live a truth. I get it now. I am your whore. I earn you coin. I finance your lie and I will live with that. But I want, no I need you to know how close you came. How desperately close you came to being the one who slipped through the walls and saw me. But I know now that all you ever saw was a lie.

It tastes like ashes and blood. I hope you choke on it.