War of Prey

11)A Soul with a Hole

"Ice in her soul; hatred a deep bitterness." 

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Oh, my dear, do you have no clue? You know me; you know who I am. Turn off your blinders and open your eyes, for I am right in front of you. Oh, don't worry, I shan't bite. Think and remember me, for I have known you your whole life. I am deep inside your history, deep inside your mind. Do not fret over the smallest of things, for they are nothing compared to you and I. Do you not know? Do you not see it? I know you better than you know you; I am the source of your sleepless nights, for why else would you turn to the bottle? Your compassion has lost its shine; your heart has lost its gold. There is nothing you can touch that will not turn to rust, nothing you can love and not destroy. The little ones you take into your care, do you really care? Or is the sadist in you? Do you not believe me? I figured not. Look in the mirror and see your own soul. Look into the mirror and realize you have no soul. You are not human for your lack of human emotions. You are not human, for you have no heart. You are damned because you have no soul. Do not believe me? Ask those you bury. Ask the widows you create. 

Ask the bones you collect; ask the blood you spill. When you lean over those whose life you shall take, do you have compassion? Do you have no mercy? Will you send the hand of which they sin back to their family? Or do you keep it as spoils? Does he know the blood on your hands? Does he know the lives you've taken? What about your parents? Do you feel no remorse? Matricide and patricide must leave you with guilt, but you are not human; does it not plague you? How do you sleep at night? Does the bottle solve all your issues? Does it bring back those who've died by your hand? Does it take away your guilt?—that is right! You have no guilt. The words that leave your mouth are laced with poison. Your mouth is the gun, and your tongue the hollow point bullets. Your tongue cuts like the lash of a whip, and your mouth oozes poison unto all those of whom you speak. The diamonds you wear were bought with blood. The throne you sit atop is built from bones. Do they know who you are? Do they know the havoc you wreak? Do they know you? Your wicked ways? Do they know the solace you find in a bottle? That those around you drove you to worship it? Oh, my dear! Do they know you? If they did, do you believe that they would still love you? That he would still fall asleep in your arms? That he wouldn't sleep with a gun beside him, prepared for when you kill him in his sleep? Or have you not told him this? 

You don't remember me. I have escaped your mind, your dreams, your bed. Who do you think held your hand when you lie awake at night? Who do you think sang you to sleep, giving you sweet dreams of love and prosperity? And who do you think took it all away? I did. I will own it. But it is time you own it, too. You must own the blood on your hands and all your mistakes. All the lives you took. My love, I have loved you your whole life, yet you cast me aside as soon as you can. Was I not worth more than a bottle of wine? But it got deeper, didn't it? Wine leads to harder drinks, and now look at you. Drunk on Whiskey and Vodka, maybe a little high, but not on what you think. You have no idea what is best for you; I do. I know you. I know you. I loved you, and you threw that away for alcohol. Don't think I do not know what goes on inside your head, for I occupy most of it. Have you stopped to think of who I am? Stopped and thought of all the people you are stringing along? All the people you will drop at a moment's notice just because they are an inconvenience? They love you, and you cast them aside like trash. You, my heart, do not know what love is, and you shall never. Some would tell you that you had a heart of gold that had been painted silver, but you never believed them, did you? You knew all along that you could never love anyone but yourself; bad habits die hard, and so will you. 

They say that the pain in which those whom you killed felt, you will feel tenfold, and I see that in your future. They were wrong. You don't have a heart of gold. You have no heart. You don't have a beautiful soul covered in dust; you have a black soul, a soul with a hole. They say that because they love the façade you put on, it is not really you; you can't love anymore. I'd be lying to call you a psychopath; a sociopath would be more fitting. A psychopath was born that way, a sociopath was made that way, and you, my dear, are far more dangerous. Sociopaths are deadly; they have human emotions, and they know how to manipulate. You are a master manipulator, and you always have been. How does it feel to have everything in your life be a lie? How does it feel to know you will never be loved, you will never get married or have children? That underneath your beauty, you are a monster. Your halo is supported by two horns, your wings held by your tail. The monster under the bed doesn't exist, but the monster in your head does. Do you ever think about the torment you cause to those whose heads you get inside? You drive them to insanity and enjoy it, don't you? Don't lie; you know you do. You love to watch those around you suffer, like to be the one to make them suffer. To everyone else, it is sickening, but to you, it is a sick, twisted game. A masochist who feeds off of the blood of the innocent. You will never be able to cleanse yourself of the blood on your hands; it will always stain you. 

All you are missing is a serpent around your neck, and you will be the Queen of all Hell. Is that what you want? Is that what you dream of? One day, as you have to all others, that serpent will betray you and strangle you in your sleep. Your heels will crush no more windpipes; your hands shall break no more noses; your Dagger shan't cut another throat. You shall not breathe another breath. You reap what you sow, and those souls you have reaped will come back to bite you in the ass. You may fool everyone else, but you do not fool me; I know you. I know you. I know the games you play, and your beauty does not fool me. You have finally met your match; bring your army, and watch as your world burns down.

You will suffer as those you have made suffer. 

Tu mundo arderá. Your world will burn.