“Don’t come near me!”
“You’re not needed—I mean you, you poor thing!”
“I thought you were real, that you loved me… and you…”
“Love is my trigger.” I grab him by the neck and shove him against the wall. What does she know about love?
“You said you loved me… you said I was yours…”
“You’re nobody to me, do you understand? I hate you. You’re… filth.”
You want to prove that love doesn’t exist. But it corrodes like mold. If only the past could be erased with an eraser on paper. But the past catches up. Can you forget? Can she forgive?