Pain

He asked if I had made my decision, and I said no. Clearly, I was lying. He took too long, and he trusted too little, even when I tried and tried to be on his side. But I won't tell him that. I'll hold his hand and I'll say, softly, maybe we could still turn this around. He'll look down at me, and say, oh Lola, but really he'll be thinking, Rebecca, maybe I can have you back, after all. Strange, come to think of it, how we'll both be cheating each other.

I know now what I want. Not the stability, gentleness, concern of Oscar, but the terrifying obsession and pain and wrenching yearning of my magpie. There, I can feel something.

And now he's marked me with pain. I am his. I told him to make it hurt, and he didn't disappoint. He was meticulous, and it took a long time. The intensity of his concentration was frightening, but he knew he couldn't get this wrong; he only had one try. When I finally saw it - so magnificent I didn't feel worthy of it - I felt cleansed, ecstatic, my mind clear.

Oh magpie...

I love the pain you put me through.