There are black places in my head. Memories I can't erase. They have to do with burning. With being the centre of a universe too big for me. A parental universe where they played God and I became a monster.
Why don't I miss them? Mummy and Daddy? They're just echoes now. People who came and went, and left me hanging in between.
I've stayed away from Y/N. I need the space. I've always been the same. Brahms is having one of his episodes, my mother used to say. Leave him alone, Daddy. Let him do it his way.
When Y/N slapped me, I knew I deserved it. It was the reprimand I never got and always needed. It infuriated me because it humiliated me. It made me realise I'm not a child anymore. I took N/Y to her room to stop my temper. I hate my rage.
Y/N. I watched her dance in the moonlight. Her secret tryst. So beautiful and graceful like music made into a woman. She's everything I wish I was. She thinks she wants me. She knows I want her. At first, I could have taken without compunction. Just to satisfy the itch. But now? Now I can't bring myself to touch her.
She wants to see my face. But I don't want to see her face seeing mine.
I've wanted to go to her so badly. To sneak into her room and lay down beside her. Just to feel her warmth and be held. I had her doll. As she had mine. Does she understand why? It's gone now, with the return of the dress scented with her. It was wrong of me. Twisted. But I had to.
I'm lying here, beneath star shaped lights, thinking of her, wanting her. Needing her. What does she really think? Does she know what shades of monster I can be? Will she ever know how much I hate this mask?
Is that her voice? It rings through the pipes and channels my parents installed so that I need never feel completely alone down here. She sounds upset. Is she crying? I sit up and listen. I hear every word.
Now, I'm listening through the walls. Feet away from where she's standing. I can't see her, but I feel her. I've always felt her. Since before we were both born.
My beautiful Y/N. Come to me.