“Even before your birthday card, your recent sneaking around had you marked as a nut-job for me, a clearly unbalanced, dangerously antisocial incel stalker, representing a threat best preempted. Don’t worry, you’re far from the first such addition. But I think after we get you good and accustomed to suffering my appropriate revenge, and get you pierced and caged and your first brands and everything, we’ll tattoo ‘creep’ right across your neck and cheek.”
Hearing of my appalling folly (or effortless success) revived my anguished adoration as I was once again carried downstairs.
Circling ever further into the earth like a turd going down a drainpipe, I soon wept more hopelessly the closer I came to that next sublevel of hell. Way before I was ready for it then (or could sink back into inse
