he was my best friend. he used to hold me when i got my period and sing silly ballads until i fell asleep. he fed me drugs and put me on the pill. at first he was in awe of my pussy but later became spiteful of it, making me wash it with harsh soaps to make certain it didn't smell. i knew it didn't but his paranoia made me feel ugly. he had an awful temper that i used to find amusing, until he turned it upon me. his wrists were covered with scars...one set from when he was handcuffed to a car and raped and another from when he tried to kill himself. he was nearly blind, his blue eyes were so pale that they were practically colorless. he couldn't see things like tears or stars. or glass.

at one point i left a broken hi-ball glass on the floor by my bed. it had cracked in such a way that it still was able to stand up. the broken shard was at a 90 degree angle, like a knife. he came to my bed and started messing with me...doing his"play" wrestling thing...which, given the fact that he was a full foot taller than me and much stronger, was not much of a contest. it always started out fun before he'd start hurting me for real...never "on purpose," of course. i'd cry out for mercy, beg him to stop...i bruise so easily that the next day i'd be covered with green and purple splotches. oh, sweetie, he'd say in his innocent, sing-song voice. did i do that to you?

i don't remember trying to actively push him off the bed. as i said, he was much stronger than me, so it wouldn't have been easy. but i remember him on top of me and how i threatened to bring my knee up between his legs, which made him jump and gave me a chance to slide out from under him and give him a shove as i did, causing his left leg to fall off the bed and collide with the glass.

his eyes happened to be looking into mine at the moment of impact. as i watched the pupils grew huge and then immediately shrunk to pinholes.

"ouch," he said, softly.

it was a clean cut, the doctor at the hospital told us as he stitched him up.

"a perfectly straight incision," he said, in his oxy-foxy accent.

"however, it's quite deep. you can see all the way to the bone."

"really? can i see?" i said, jumping off my folding chair.

"ah, certainly," he said.

hey, he said, from the head of the bed, where he had a pillow over his face.

what is this? are you getting some sick pleasure off my accident?

i felt my face flush at the mention of the truth.

"me?" i said, as i leaned down and took a look.

there was the bone.

"it's so white," i said, awestruck.

for a minute i forgot about him and all the fucked-up, confused thoughts spinning in my head. the whiteness captivated me. it was like a gravestone or a seashell.

"i had no idea," i gasped.

"no idea of what?" the doctor asked.

"i had no idea it would be so perfect."

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