“you deserve it.”

“i am always here, you know,” she whispers
“and you want to be me.” she appears like a hallucination 
“but you think i am sick,” she laughs and i feel ink drip onto my skin, staining me, branding me, burning me
“but really, you are sick if you want to be me, a monster.” the ink drips and drips, rolling in a stream over my heart, my mind, my soul 
“you created me, so you have the right to be me, don’t you?” pain sinks into the back of my neck as she claws but i don’t feel it, i feel shame, feel guilt, i only feel her 
“stop denying it.” she says it with such a wicked, wicked laughter and suddenly her empty eyes don’t fit her face 
“be free, be a monster. you deserve it.” she is too close, too close to my skin and the pain returns again 
“you deserve it.” she ushers out with a toothy smile as i choke on air, on empty bitter air
"you deserve it." she breathes, cold like death, and i feel my soul being ripped in two, torn in two
"you deserve it." she says and everything becomes the white behind my eyes. the static only greets me then. the static.