@time-qxeen
“The good news for you, Doctor, is that I don’t want to be alive any more than you want me to be the face you’re stuck with.”
“I love you. Always have. Always will. What’s the point in addressing all the offenses you’ve laid against me? That’s all there is left to say, of any consequence. That I love you.”
You think I don’t know you want Missy instead of me: or at least, the tame declawed version of her you fashioned in that Vault?
Never mind that I look at a corset now and vomit, and can’t breathe, remembering those awful years you think you made “progress” with my morality. Those years were my trauma. My worst nightmare. Who is telling only half the story now?
You have given up on me because I am not small and manageable, and I don’t weep openly, and I don’t follow the path through darkness that you think you light with a bright and righteous torch.
You have given up on me because I am large and loud and inconveniently aggressive, flapping my hands, laughing obnoxiously, being eccentric. Inappropriate and embarrassing before the humans who only know the well-lit side of your moon. Seemingly impenitent of my crimes.
I have dug myself this grave with you, after all. I alone have done it, you’re right, it’s true. I hoped to make you hate me so I could let myself finally die. (Even though I lay on the floor in front of the Matrix, sobbing convulsively, to learn what our people did to you, when you were just a little girl. Even then, I had to feel free of you. So that I could pick you, instead of being coerced into “goodness.”)
And now here I am, ready, I suppose, because my best friend doesn’t need me anymore.
