Think of this like a teaser, for a book you know nothing about.

But soon, you will.

My love,

You know this got out of hand. It was only supposed to be the one thing, the single instance. I was never going to see you again and as much as you idolized me, you would have ran far away. I know this, because now I know you.

That night I didn’t, of course. You were one of so many faceless strangers begging for a performance. My art is wrapped tight around my heart like glass-coated fingernails, but the spectacle of revealing it is something I detach from. I never memorize a face. Never ask for a name in those drunken moments of desperate lust afterward. I am polite, well-mannered, soft spoken. But I do not actually care.

You weren’t different.

Not at first.

But then something happened and you… twisted me.

Now, we’re here, and you know all about the journey to this darkened, bloodstained room.

The three of us wanted to care for you initially; do you understand that? Maybe not, because we wouldn’t have until that fateful city-soaked weekend surrounded by other performance artists who don’t understand a gimmick isn’t a truth.

Do you regret this? You asked me that once, tears long dried on your face. You never cried after the first seven days. Sometimes I thought we broke you.

Now I know we did.

Do I regret this?

I only kissed you then, when you asked. But as I write this from the light of the moon and watch you shiver under a blanket that is worth more than this twisted little house, I have had time to think about it.

And I know we never meant for us to be here, like this.

We could never have predicted the way the human mind will snap much like a bone.

But regret… no.

I don’t think I have it.

I wish I did, or one of us could, at least.

It would stop what’s to come, the only way this can end.

We all know, don’t we?

You, of all of us.

You have begged me for it before, but I wasn’t ready to let go then.

Now, though…

I could be.

And when you wake in the morning. when you see this, please know I am not sorry. I do not regret it.

But I wish it ended differently.

Love,

X.