A Piece of Which Me Does She Want?

a rat in an enormous maze, made me more and more

edgy. I tried to remain calm but it not an easy thing

to do, after all, this was a truly unique psychological

situation. To have full knowledge that you have

been abandoned by your friends, that you have been

betrayed by your love. More over that you have had

the whole world sit and watch as a man that hates me

wages a campaign of inhuman torture against you, and

pays him to watch him do it to you. The pressure and

the wrong had two critical side effects. The saint, sick

and weakened, and drawn by all that had gone before,

paralyzed for years, convulsed in pain, twitching from

the agony that could have been designed just for him.

His off ence at the disproportion, his horror at the

wrong, his sense of belief in basic human decency,

violated. Even now coming to understand that this

game, would go all the way to the inner portions

of the police force, that there was quite literally no

stopping it, even police officers knew about it, they

knew about the crimes that were being committed

and they took no action to restrain it. Even played

along inside it. He was angry, and so sick and weak

again was of course the diametric opposite, the saints

worst enemy, the one he was created to restrain, the

killer. His was the rage, built on a foundation of rage,

his was the hatred and vengeance that would always

return, and he was being fed, more and more and

more, so fat he became, so bloated and terrible in

his visage, there remained only one way to restrain

him. The only force that I knew that could choke his

fury, with the saint deposed from his throne, the only

one that could have held him back in his intensity.

The only force that remained that could restrain

the killer was love. This was to be the ending of me

but might have been the saving of me, I could never

really tell how the game was to end for me, in delight

or destruction.