"You painted me red, so I lived up to your expectations and became one."

I stared at you while you were kneeling in front of me. The make up on your face is perfect. Your mascara trailed black patches of tears down your cheeks, your lipstick smudged passed your trembling lips and I thought—what a sight to behold you were.

"I'm sorry. Please don't do this."

I stared at you blankly, unseeing. My chest is empty. I think, I lack the guilt of hurting you or at this point, torturing you and watching you bleed like a chicken in the hands of a poultry farmer. It's not because my heart is pure black now but because—you taught me how to turn it into black.

You taught me how to become a villain.

Do you remember?

"I'm begging you."

Do you remember me asking you the same pleas while I was kissing your...