┼~Я†R~┼

Of course, now my mind wanders into fantasy.

Suppose I became proficient with machines, and crafting traps.

I could find you in Fort Myers. Not by the address of where you live, but by where you end up getting a job. I could tranquilize you and kidnap you, and take you to a place where I’ve built this contraption: I’d bind you to a chair with a shotgun affixed in front of it, facing you. There would be another chair to your right with another shotgun affixed the same way. There would be strings tied to the triggers that are both looped around a single pulley centered between the shotguns. Through the use of eyehooks, the strings would run along the floor and then up to a place where I could easily grab hold of them from the chair I would be in. I’d wake you up after you’re secured, sit in the other chair, and have a very long conversation with you… Perhaps I’d give you tetrodotoxin, and it would be a one-sided conversation. It depends on whether or not I could have the heart to hear your voice.

It depends on whether or not you’d cry. Would you cry? Would you cry, if I were to do this, and told you every tiny detail of my love for you and how it only dies when we die? Would you cry if you were that helpless in the face of death, at the hands of an insane cunt like myself?

Or would you be angry? Would you shout at me and never shut up? I really hope you wouldn’t ruin our mutual death with that kind of talk. Because it’s my stage for speech. I get the right of way when this happens. You’re the one who’s leaving me. You don’t get to make your case until I’m through. And when you get the floor, would you lie to me in your bound and helpless position? Would you tell me fluffy and romantic things about how we don’t have to end things like this?

And even if those things weren’t lies, do you really think I’d let you go? If I did, you’d either run to the police or kill me as soon as I untie you. If I do decide not to kill us both at that junction, I’d have to keep you. I’d have to hide you, and own your life, one hundred percent. You’d eat when I let you, and you’d eat and drink from bowls like a dog. You’d see sunlight if I felt generous. But there is no way that I would ever let you out of my sight after that, unless you were tightly locked away in your new home.

We’d talk, and supposing I don’t change my mind, you’d know how much I love you, and we’d both die at the same time… And it’s foolproof. If your gun misfires, I die and you starve to death in your chair. If my gun misfires, you die assuming that I died right with you. If both guns misfire, then I reload and try again.

I love you. I always will.