February 25th

How dare he? I should have turned that myopic, grotesque creature into stone the moment I laid eyes on him. Always trust first instincts.

I never saw it coming. His fury over the mark on my neck left by my lover. A jealous rage consumed him. "He did it on purpose," he lashed, "to mock me and harm you." He ranted on with his vision of a demented, possessive lover on the verge of decapitating another prized prey to mount on a wall of conquests, or somehow employ as a weapon. He could see what I couldn't; this was a sign I was doomed for such a fate. "You're mad," I said, "or a fool. Either way, I will not be with you." As I lunged for a cab, I heard him call after me, "Whore."

I'm glad his lover left him. Let loneliness be his sole companion. I will file my nails into sharp claws and gouge out his pitiful eye, or blind him with serpentine poison until he can no longer see me. I will not allow him to look at me again.