...I am afraid of the dark, at times like these.

Me. The original Goth Girl. Afraid of the dark.

And yet I want to take the boy out walking, go through graveyards and tombstones, trace the resting places of long-dead souls.

I want that.

I want him... oh, but it's a dangerous lust, this hunger that's flowing. A few people would recognize it. Snowtygrrr would appreciate it. Nre would run from it. Any of them, anyone who knows that side of me even exists, they'd see it coming... sweet, so sweet that hint of violence, not against others but simply against myself, feeling another's hand on the whip, another's words in my ears turning my hearing itself into a bond, speech forming a collar, cuffs, the ropes that hold me down.

Yes. Sinking into submission.

Panic.

Terror.

Fear.

And the hunger... so sweet, this craving. Delicious. Heavenly, to want so strongly and know that I'll be denied, by myself if nothing more. I crave him, crave his submission... and too, I crave the dominance that he's about to taste.

This is why I call it a crisis - not because it will destroy him, but because it will destroy me.

He says he does not know when the next persona, the next link, will tear through him and take posession. ~I~ know. I know what's waiting for him.

Poor kitten.