Pet: A Dark Menage Romance

And you did, and it fucking killed me, because it was the beginning of the end.

I didn’t want to watch you fucking him. I didn’t want to fuck you while he was inside you at the same time. I knew I had to do it, Pet. I knew I had to make you fall for him and choose him over me.

I wanted to feel alone. I wanted you to leave me for him, because it was the only option for you to get out safe, and get out in time. It was getting worse then, Pet, and I felt sick a lot of the time, which is why I didn’t spend much time alone. The doctors said I had a month, maybe two, but my condition would get progressively worse in those final few weeks. Leukemia, Pet, is a fucking awful cancer. It eats you from the inside.

There is absolutely no fucking excuse for what happened the last time you were in my apartment, and we both know that. I’ll never forgive myself.

But I was having doubts. I wanted to keep you. I wanted you with me.

The bottle thing happened by accident. And the moment it did, I knew I had to walk away, because otherwise you’d never leave me. And it seemed like life had made the choice for me.

While I was in that bathroom waiting for him to take care of you, I wanted to fucking die. I deserved it. And the days that followed, the weeks that came after, were a fucking nightmare. I’m a nightmare without you, Pet. Living without you is like a bad fucking dream.

I knew you’d be at the gallery. I wanted to see you. I picked that girl just for you, to make you jealous. See, Pet? I was a selfish fucking bastard my whole life, until I said goodbye, and a while after. I called Stranger and Maria so many times, even after that. I told them to keep it from you, I just wanted to know what you were doing, and every time, I hoped they’d tell you anyway. I don’t think they did.

It’s getting really bad now, Pet. I can tell it’s close, I’m really fucking dying. I thought nothing could defeat me, but you proved me wrong. You and your tight little body, your fucking twisted mind, you utter submission for me, Pet. I hope you can give yourself to him the way you gave it all to me.

I wonder if you still call him Stranger. I don’t want to know.

There’s one last thing to tell you, Pet.

The man who abused you. I wanted to hurt him ever since you told me. I knew you wouldn’t have let me, so I kept it from you. I guess dying proved to be good in one aspect of the word, because despite my best tries, I seem to have left behind some evidence that led the police back to me. They think I’m involved in his death now, Pet, and I am. I didn’t pull the trigger, but I sure as fuck helped him do it. It’s good that I’m almost gone, so I don’t have to rot in jail for what I did to that man. But I want you to know, Pet, I would do it all over again, even if I was healthy, so I could see him die for what he did to you.

You’re going to receive some things in my will, pretty Pet. Mostly money. That atrocious painting I bought you. I left Maria the apartment. I think she should have it. The majority is yours, and the rest is for James’ family, to take care of the mess he left. I also donated some money to a charity for abused children.

I know I’ve said goodbye a few times now, Pet. But this one is going to be the hardest, because I’ll be gone when you’re reading this.

And I want you to know, Pet, you’ve been the only one. The only one who touched me in this way, the only one that left a mark. Not like the one on your thigh, pretty baby. One that no one could see on my skin, but they could see it in my eyes until the day I died. And I fucking feel you, Pet, I still feel you in my heart with every breath I take, in my lungs, in my head, everywhere, you’re everywhere.

I’m sorry for everything, Pet. I should have never touched you in that gallery. I’m sorry for that, but I’m really not. Because I’ll always be a selfish prick.

I hope you’re happy. I hope you still think of me, because you’ll be the only one to do that.

I love you, my Pet.

Yours,

HSKI didn’t remember when the sobbing started, but it got worse and worse as I tore through the rest of the envelope, looking for something, anything about where he was now. He couldn’t be gone, he wasn’t, there was no way. I would have felt it, I would have known in my heart, in my mind, in my belly, that he was gone.