This is the last entry.
I hope you never forget what happened between us.
If you forget, you'll regret it. Don't worry. I have my ways.
I can come to you many ways. In your spam folder. In an unwanted visitor.
Maybe I'm the mailman walking past, or the old lady walking her dog. Or maybe I'm the UPS driver, delivering a bomb to your house. I'm kidding. Bombs aren't fun ways to kill people.
Knives are.
I've had lots of practice since the last time we met. Remember that?
I hope you're scared. And if you're not, well that's too bad.
You never answered me. So answer me now.
Do you love me too? Are you scared? Are you angry? How are you feeling?
I know how I'm feeling. I'm pretty hungry.
You know what else a knife does? It cuts things up.
And I'm pretty hungry.
And you're just pretty.
Take this as a compliment, because it might be the last one you ever get.
You'd
Taste
Pretty