David

By the time you're reading this, it's too late for me. I just want to get that out of the way. If you are reading this, I am dead. I asked David to post this once he'd killed me.

Some of you wondered, I'm sure, what interest David would have in someone like me. I did too. I'm not stupid, just resigned. I'm not a runner. I'm not a fighter. I barely survive. And if David cared enough to track me down that first time, I was his prey. And if he wanted to play nice? Well, it's felt good pretending someone cares about me like that again.

For the record? I suspected from the moment I saw that comment. I figured it out for certain shortly after we arrived at Hope. He introduced me to The Mad Ventriloquist, poor man. They're in love, and I wish them all the best, because I can't think of any other motive that would've kept him from crying and trying something like he obviously wanted to. He knew. He's not that good of an actor.
But please, don't judge him too harshly. I told him I knew, that it was what I wanted. He didn't like it, but he understood.

David knew I knew, and never did he seem so attracted to me as when I came to him a few days later and told him I knew he was going to kill me. That kiss... I think it may have been the only real kiss he ever gave me. The only one that wasn't carefully planned and poised and plotted.

Yes, that's right. We were sleeping together. The two of us made a deal. I would do whatever he wanted, let him have whatever death he wanted for me, do just exactly as he wished.

Provided he gave me at least a week to pretend he loved me. He's been wonderful, he's an amazing actor and a skilled top. Were circumstances different it would be quite easy to fall into that act and believe that it were true, that he really did love me.

As it is, I'm grateful for the masquerade. I didn't want to die without ever being happy again. I'm... I'm not, exactly. Happy, I mean. But.. content. As long as I have someone I can trust to serve, I can find contentment, and strangely now that I know he wants my death I know he won't harm me in the meantime. I trust him implicitly.

I know I'm going to die, I know it will probably be horrific. I have no doubt in my mind that he will make me cry and scream and wish for the end, but I find comfort in two things.

First, that nothing he, an external force, can do will hurt me worse than I already hurt after the past couple months. I've tried so hard to fight it or hide it or move past it, but all I am is pain. Everything I am, everything I feel, is shades of pain. Serving him, getting so far into that mentality that it's a trance, is the only thing I've been able to find to allow me to not hurt, even just for a little while.

And secondly? There is nothing left on this earth I want more than death. After their deaths... I just can't. As much as they wouldn't like the comparison, I find myself like those stories of dogs whose owners have died who just fade away, die out of grief for their master. The only thing keeping me in the land of the living is luck. That and Damon's last order: that I not end my own life because of my loss.
So I haven't. I've done what I could to stay alive, and now that the decision is out of my hands... now that I know I will see them again soon... If I didn't still hurt so bad, I'd call it joy.

So, please, don't hate or blame him for it. He gave me everything I could have asked for. I'm just hoping my death doesn't hurt anyone else.

Goodbye. I'll be with Damon and Penny soon.