The only time I leave his
mind is when he masturbates.
I learned the hard way
that I didn’t want to see his fantasies.
The one time I stayed,
the one time I watched was the time he was thinking of me.
He didn’t think of me
while I was alive, but as I looked when I was dead.
My body was ravaged,
ripped to shreds by the wheels of the train.
The life was gone from my
one remaining eye.
I was cold.
That was what he liked
the most.
He liked the cold feel of
my skin against his.
It turned him on to know
that he was the reason the life had left my body.
That was also when I
realized that he knew I was there.
He had intentionally
thought of me, knowing that I was watching.
He knew I was there, he
knew I knew too much about him, and he wanted to punish me.
He can’t touch me.
I don’t think he knows
how.
Not yet, anyways.
So he found a new way to
punish me.
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