(All the stops have now been pulled and the train resumes the slow journey around the water to where I am resting, bound and gagged, stretched over the tracks with my knees and my head resting on the rails, blonde hair tangled in the gravel, creosote and arsenic from the sleepers soaking into my skin through my dress.
My eyes watch the stars. My head will be filled with beauty when the light comes to blind me.)
Lochlan and Ben have abandoned me as muse and taken each other on as...as male furies. The most difficult dynamic of their relationship leaves me on the floor dividing my devotions with a dull butter knife, in a block of sunlight tinged a bright shade of vexation. I've been here for hours, measuring it out and it always comes out lopsided and unfair and I'm running out of ideas.
The devil has some incredibly aberrant solutions but I hold no interest in those. He is entertained by my efforts nevertheless.
You can't make this fair and just, princess. No one's going to be happy in the end.
Be quiet, will you? I'm counting.
