"Run, Robert, run!" Every damn day, talking to the dog in the house. There isn’t a single moment when this bitch shuts up. "Hi, how are you? Oh, you’re writing? Tales from the Crypt? NO… Oh, how fun! Are you going to publish them?" NO… I’m dying to grab a knife and cut out that tongue of yours.

  "What’s for lunch today? Oh, delicious, tuna. Guess what I learned in Tai Chi today? …Uh-huh, yeah, great." Little by little, I’m losing track of where I made myself some tea; the sounds are fading into nothingness.

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  I’m dying to grab the iron, pour oil on it, heat it up, and press it against your face. I want to feel how you writhe and scream for me to stop. I want to see your skin bubbling in the oil and your face peeling away in pieces.

  "How’s my precious little girl doing? Meow" Blowing kisses into the air as if it were your child. IT’S A FUCKING CAT.

  "Do you want some tea? There’s nothing better than tuna with lemon and some tea to quench the thirst…"

  I don’t know how much more I can take. I feel like my life is slipping away with you… Maybe, just maybe… How much shorter could I make yours? Starting tomorrow, you’ll wish you’d never woken up.