Josh always liked this time of the year, so I guess I might as well unwrap this shit and talk about him now.
My first lover and my first victim. I guess he popped my cherry twice.
Oh wait, three times, since he was the one who fucking exposed me to the Tailor in the first place. One day, he started talking about seeing this “ghost” or “demon” or whatever. At first, I thought he was joking, then I thought he was imagining it. Finally, he started showing me pictures and stories of supposed encounters with it. Some were his, some were from other unlucky fucks, posting their last days online. Soon after, the Tailor started appearing to me. You titflickers know how the fucking story goes. He shows up, the proxies follow, the running starts and shit hits the fan. Rinse and fucking repeat.
Me and Josh had been together for a couple of years before all that bullshit, though, so I trusted him. I loved him and I really thought he felt the same way about me. I thought I fucking KNEW him so wherever he ran. I went with him. I was so fucking stupid. Stupid to think we were going to be okay somehow; to let him make me feel safe. But…there were times when he protected me…. Why did he do that?
Maybe he was just keeping me around as an extra set of hands to cover his ass; an emergency meat shield in case we ever got cornered. I guess it sorta worked, since he got away… until we caught up to him a few months later.
He apologized then, but I wonder if he was ever truly sorry for leaving me.
I guess he could have just been half awake and acting on instincts, the night I was taken. There wasn’t much he could have done since the Wolf grabbed me and teleported the fuck out. Maybe it was panic that drove him to justify his actions the way he did. Maybe it’s just easier for me to keep believing that he didn’t care at all and that he deserved to die. I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. I’m probably giving him more credit than I should. He left me. He didn’t even try to help. I don’t know why I’m suddenly trying to paint him as anything but a cowardly little bitch.
I guess there’s a part of me that wants to believe that someone actually loved me.
This is fucking pathetic. Fuck that bandaged cunt for dragging this shit back up. Wherever he went, I hope he fucking rots there.