How are you?
I'm alright I guess...

Where do we begin?
Maybe at the start of this mess.

Are you uncomfortable?
I can't say that I'm not.

Is it your past?
Well it's all I've got.

Do you still get nightmares?
Well I used to...

Will you let them show?
Depends on you...

What do you hope to accomplish?
I don't know... Peace of mind?

Would you have done things differently?
Everyone wants the chance to push "rewind".

Care to elaborate?
Let's just say I would've liked to be braver.

What do you mean?
I should've stood up to my father...

Did he abuse your trust?
He did more than just that...

Rob you of your freedom?
Let's see... His belt, cigarettes and also boiling water out of a vat.

Do you wish him ill?
I wished him dead.

"Wished"?
Yeah...in his bed.

Why "wished"?
Because I wanted that then...

For how long?
Since I was ten.

What about now?
(Maniacal smile) I am now... At peace.

"At peace"?
I have found release.

You have?
Yes... I couldn't resist the urge.

Urge to do what?
To comply with the voice... "Freedom...lies in the purge..."

You left your father?
Yes but not before...

Go on...*
Not before I slit his throat with a smile on my face as I shut the door...

I'm tired of the head games
Do you still really wanna play?
Your not the only one with emotions
And that's all I'm gonna say...

You are not perfect, darling.
Far from it, actually.
Your aura is lined with jagged edges.

I know it.
You know it.
God knows it.

But that is what makes us so extraordinary.
Your jagged edges expertly fill my empty spaces.

No one is formulated quite like you.
Never has there been.
Never will there be.

You are you, made imperfectly just for me.

I know it.
You know it.
God knows it.

There's no difference between the meter of a cab
and the meter of a poem;

both show you the rate at which you're going,
but only you know where.

she had been
stabbing herself
with her own knife
until he took it from her

and right as she believed
that he was trying to help
he handed her a larger one
and said,
"here, try this one"

tight silk ******* with the lilac bra to match,
cream coloured knee high socks.
a collection of classic rock on vinyl and a compliments jar covered in news articles.

too many celebrity perfumes, but a versace collection that makes her think of the beach;
peach smelling deoderant.

chapter books on the floor accompanied by hair ribbons of baby blue and cotton candy pink,
****** by Vladimir Nabokov laying near the juvinile pale legs of beautiful sixteen,
as she paints each toe nail red, pink, white.

almost naked body, remember her tight, fresh lace set
hair perfectly auburn, lips perfectly light coral
mouth slightly open
Led Zepplin playing.
hairspray and rose powder,
unlit vanilla candles and twilight scented creams
she smells faintly of Modern by Banana Repulic and her daddy's cigarettes.

silently waving, a flag of patriotism
the beautiful, elegant sixteen.

-part 1

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