Me AND HER
I am at her house...
And she is in front of me, sitting on that nice chair. She doesn’t speak, but she looks at me. She looks a little puzzled, doesn’t she? It’s just me? She doesn’t look like that to you too?
Sorry, you are right, one step back, then always forward. The story is really long, and i don’t have that much time left... So don’t interrupt me, please...
NO! DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!!
Now I will show you that I am perfectly rational and stable...
You will see...
She and I met at school and bonded really fast.
Her name is Elisa and she is my best friend. Me? My name doesn’t matter.
NO! I SAID MY NAME DOESN’T MATTER!
NOW STOP!
STOP SCREAMING!
BE QUIET!
Thank you...
Now, back to the story...
She and I spent a lot of time together, and gradually became more and more friends, as a matter of fact we became best friends.
One day I made a horrible discovery: I had fallen in love with her.
To be honest, I was happy at first, you know, falling in love with her, my flower, my dearest treasure, my only joy....
I still don’t hear them coming...
It means I have still time.
It means I can still talk.
I loved her, indeed I still love her, but she did not understand this and I thought it was better not to tell her, letting everything continue as usual, between a chat, a walk and a lot of tension between us.
At some point, I decided it was better to start expressing my feelings to her, to demonstrate all my love...
Let’s just be clear... Not something quick and flashy, like a firework, but something slow and gentle, like drops in a cave. I began to hug her more, to be closer to her -- to be more chivalrous!
One day she told me something: she had a boyfriend.
The lucky guy was a drug abusing low-life who didn’t have nothing better to do than use her like a toy.
You can imagine how I felt at that moment....
Still, I don’t know why, I continued to stay close to her, as any good friend should.
However, as time went on, her behavior got worse. She became sour, bipolar, as if she was also a slave to the substances her new boyfriend was using.
And so I became a slave to her.
I didn’t...
Don’t judge me...
Please...
I followed her everywhere and did whatever she asked...
I hated myself....
One day i mustered my courage and told her that I loved her.
I thought that i could cure her, besides I was better than that thug she was dating.
I’m a good guy after all, i deserved it.
But apparently nice guys always finish last...
She told me that I was just a friend to her, nothing more.
From that day on, things only got worse for me... A lot worse....
Every time I came home I felt terrible. I could feel all my thoughts flowing like a raging river inside my head, tearing and deforming my flesh...
They tormented me to such an extent that, at times, I could no longer move, I would collapse with my head in my hands and cry, scream, often puke, almost choking to death between tears and puke.
They would always say:
“You’re an idiot!”
“Shame on you!”
“You’re not good enough for her!”
“Haven’t you noticed?”
“Amigo, she’s using you!”
“Yeah, you’re her personal slave!”
“Boy, I’m sorry, but the others are right.”
“Wake up, stop following her around like a dog!”
“She’s the one who’s wrong!”
“She’s taking advantage of you!”
“She’s playing with your feelings!”
But one was recurring, much more than the others.
“Make her pay!”
I never listened to them, to my great distress, and continued my miserable existence as a slave, hoping that one day she would break up with that bastard, realize the huge mistake she had made and give me what was rightfully mine! Giving herself to me!
I’m a nice guy, I would have loved her like no one else on this god forsaken planet, not like him, not like the others.
And like a sudden miracle brought upon me from God, one day she broke up with him.
She relapsed on me.
We spent a lot of time together, I wanted to reassure her, make her forget him and take her only for myself.
I was successful, soon she forgot that scum...
But things between us did not change...
After a month of mistreatment and exploitation, she came to me, only to tell me that, after much reflection, she understood something.
I thought, “YES, she understood that she loves me!”
Poor deluded me...
She told me that she had realized she loved a boy who used to go to her usual club.
I told her I was happy for her...
And ran off to cry alone in some alley....
From that day on, the thoughts became more pressing... They struck me more and more often, even in public.
One day I was in my bathroom, crying in the mirror like a bitch... He was there, staring at me, mimicking every single movement, as if he was mocking me.
He was stronger, more confident, surely he would get what he wanted from her.
At one point he looked up and smiled at me, at first only with a small grimace, which soon became a big deformed grin.
His eyes were there, very black... Deep... They revealed all my innermost desires...
They called me...
I understood what I had to do...
I went to her house.
I said I had to tell her something very important.
She made me come inside.
Her parents were out of town, so we were completely alone.
I went upstairs, following her to her room, where she sat in front of her mirror.
“Make it quick, I have a date with Jonah.”
Bitch...
I hit her on the head, crushing her face right inside the mirror, making blood and splinters of glass fly all over her room. She WAS really beautiful...
Besides...
I didn’t kill her, I just knocked her out.
I tied her up, and started torturing her as soon as she recovered.
Why would I give her the privilege of not feeling pain?
I made her pay for everything she put me through emotionally only, instead of hurting her soul, I hurt her body.
First I took what she would not give me of her own free will.
She gave herself away to everyone, now it was my turn!
Once I was done, I hit her body... A lot... I had to be the last one to benefit, the last one to see her beauty!
I spared nothing...
And once I was finished, what was once the dream and pleasure of so many people was now just a shapeless mass of flesh and blood.
But no...
She must not die...
At least not yet...
I hear them! I hear the sirens!
I have one last thing left to do.
Here’s the gun.
I’ll tell her it’s time to end it.
A few moments, and everything will be over...
“This is Anthony Reese, reporting live for Weekend news. Elisa May just woke up from the pharmacological coma she had been in since the day she was rescued from her home, where she survived through an horrible nightmare. Elisa, when asked by law enforcement, admitted that she knew her torturer, and that she had been a close friend of his before the event. The perpetrator was identified as Joseph Jones, a classmate of the girl. The perpetrator committed suicide before law enforcement could raid the home. Elisa was in a critical condition. Doctors have determined that the girl will no longer be able to walk, move her left arm, and will be forced to wear a bandage that will cover her face because of the countless injuries she sustained. The girl, however, is recovering quickly, although a tough rehabilitation period lies ahead for her. Law enforcement...” 03/27/2012 Weekend News
“Young Elisa May was taken today to a mental health facility due to another attempt of taking her life. The psychologist who analyzed her described her as a girl who, after those famous events of Feb. 26, 2012, the day Joseph Jones tortured her, has not been able to recover her mental faculties. In addition...” 12/10/2022 News Today
“Let’s just think about this for a moment. We are making a program about these cases, but I realize that Joseph Jones’ is different from all the others, because it's extremely rational. Jones committed suicide, leaving Elisa May alive. Now, Ms. May no longer has a life, living in a physical and psychological suffering that cannot be quantified. Who really paid the most? Jones, who by committing suicide did not pay for his terrible actions and ended his suffering years ago? Or Elisa May, who lives in a state of extreme, not to say eternal, mental and bodily suffering?” 02/27/2027 Richard Salonne (Criminologist) during “Blood Stories”
