I. Am. This. I am not fragmented. Where is my mind going? The woman lying underneath me pulls me back into the room with the soft raking of her nails down my back. I stopped? Her eyes are closed. She. Is. Not. Here. Not with me. I thrust into her hard. Her lips part. I see her tongue in her mouth. I continue my assault upon her… body. She is like heaven. Not heaven. Is heaven real? She. Her mouth is heaven. This is the garden. Didn't they say something about a garden in that muggle book? Uhh. Bloody hell. I grip her shoulders as I shove into her harder still. Where is She?

Four letter word. She said us in four letters. Us in four letters? My trembling hands dig into her thick black hair. I grip it violently. She. Does not. Stir. Four letter word. This. Lust. Harder still. Her eyes open. She turns to look at me. Tell me a four letter word to describe us. Lust. This. Dead. Hate. Need. Those dark eyes stare beyond me. She is not here. I want her here. I hate her. I want her. She should know. I am dead. She is dead. They are all dead. Everything dies. I grab the headboard and thrust into her as hard as possible. Her mouth opens wider. Those dark eyes gaze into mine. She sees me. Feel. Lust. This. Want. She leaves again. I don't notice until it is too late. I am overcome with a need to drive all of me into her. All of me. I want to crawl inside of her to be warm. Forever. I. Need. This. Lust. Feel.

She stares at the wall. Tears run from her eyes into her dark hair and onto my pillow. She is fragmented. Broken. That's not four letters. Four letters for us. Lust. This. Need. Feel. Those tears make my heart race. I smile. She never cries.

"Angel," I whisper.

She hates me. I see it in her eyes when she turns to me. My grip on the headboard tightens. I push into her harder. Hate me. Please. Don't go. Don't call me that. Four letters. Dead. Gone. Cold. Fred? No. Lust. This. Need. Feel. Feel. No control. I have none. I release the headboard and pull her against me. She trembles. Fear. Hate. Lust. Feel. Need. We want to be one another. I wonder how far her pain runs. How far she will allow me to dig. Her nails dig into my back. My teeth are in her shoulder. Feel. She falls back against the bed with her mouth open still. Sounds that follow me in my sleep or when I am alone float into the air. Our lips meet. Hard. Feel. It's just skin. It burns. Touching her. I want to be inside of her. Will she let me in? Four letters. Lust. Hate. Need. Dead. Gone. Fred. Feel. Cold. She sees me. She knows me. She wants me. She watches me. I want her. I need her. I press our bodies together as ecstasy comes over us both. She sounds like heaven. She tastes, smells, looks…heaven. Heaven is not a four-letter word. Why four letters? Four letters for five years.

"George," her dark eyes gaze up at me with remnants of the tears she'd cried earlier. She's right. I was George. "Love."

Four letters.