Or if she rejected me again, then I could take pictures of her fucking in a horse costume and blackmail her into loving me like she should.

I don't make threats," she said. "I make reality.

I am being watched. My stalker is smart, just like I would be.

If that was the last time we met, I was satisfied with my parting words. But if that was the case, why was I crying on the way back to the train as if I'd experienced a death?

I screamed at them all to leave me alone, begged for their mercy, but they feasted until I was picked clean like a carrion would.