There's condensation in the window again.

Either that or it's just in my eyes. It's hard to be sure anymore. Everything's difficult to know now – I have to touch everything before I'm convinced it's all real, since obviously I'm too easily fooled. At least, he managed to trick me. I thought for once I'd finally found myself a friend; a love, too, although the former was mostly the reason why I kept talking to him so much. See, I never was very good at making friends.

Daddy didn't approve of him, of course. I didn't doubt he wouldn't. There were eight years between us in age, and he'd been involved in criminal activity. You'd think I would be able to tell he was a bad guy (especially with my ability) and have just left him alone. But here was this guy, wanting to be my friend. Perhaps something else. That was all that mattered to me.

No wonder I was stranded here by myself. April 4th... couldn't I just relive that day again and make sure I never approached the man with the venomous grin that had enticed me toward him? Just one simple conversation. Yet it's caused me so much pain.

I hear a faint clatter from outside my room. I don't even bother to lift my head. There's no point; I know it's Daddy trying to feed me. I don't want to risk opening the door for fear of opening a conversation. I don't want to talk about it. It hurts too much.

He doesn't attempt to pry me out of my room. He must have caught on by now that I don't want to be disturbed, although from his exhaling he sounds exasperated. His constant efforts to break us up didn't help in the slightest.

I wish he'd gotten what he wanted.

I've dragged myself through the yard and threw myself straight into my own grave. I just want to be buried already.

I miss his British accent; the way he'd let me snuggle up on his lap and call me "kitten"; how he'd always try his best to avoid trouble with Daddy. I also remember his lying, cheating side - the flaky man with the undecided conscience about how he felt towards me. Sometimes it felt as though I was the only one trying.

Either way, I wish I could just forget. I'd do anything to forget him. His very being is tattooed on the left side of my brain, his every word engraved next to it. Scars from this war with myself and a silhouette of someone I thought I knew.