Lie
I have always known how to weasel my way out of the most precarious of situations. It’s a gift, my mother says. It’s a skill he taught me, my father says. It’s a tool, I say, this way with words that I have.
I know how to wield them as weapons, a means to an end, a sweet caress, a death blow.
I have a way of making people see what I want them to see. I make them believe. Just like I made her believe. And make-belief is never harmless.
But, as I said: if people get hurt along the way, so be it. They say it’s because I am self-centred, egotistic, narcissistic. And they are probably right.
I made her believe that I loved her when really, I was simply testing the limits of my skills. How could I ever truly love such filth?
I didn’t really love her, but Merlin help me –
I’m so pretty when Ilie.