I’m out.
I know.
You’re gonna have to just find some other way to kill people, because I can’t anymore. I’m gonna be a trash disposal man, then an architect. That’s it. We’re done.
I know.
Good.
You’ve already been replaced by someone twice as ferocious and vile and bloodthirsty. Someone who does what you did with gentleness and regret with glee and torturous pleasure.
Stay, please. It’s not too late.
If not you, it will be someone else. Someone worse. At least you regretted it.
It’s not my problem to solve anymore. I don’t want it to be worse, but it can’t be me. It really can’t.
I wish you didn’t exist at all. I wish no one worked for you, good or bad. I hate you and I hate how hard this is.
I know.
Right. You know. You know everything.
I know someone else will do it. That’s okay. But I can’t be driving the nails.
Are you thinking straight?
What?
Those disks I’d been mistakenly giving you, the glitched ones, they might have eroded your higher cognitive functions. You had better stay.
There were no glitches. Lyle told me. You’re just manipulating me.
Lyle is wrong. The old you would have wanted to stay, when you were whole.
Shut up.
It's true.
I don’t care! Who cares!
People aren’t broken. I’m not broken. I- please- just stop.
I have to move. Jawbreakers are at my house- jesus, they practically chased me here. That’s curtains, like it or not. I have to move, get a new job, get a new name, meet new people-
You think you can leave just like that? That it will be easy?
No.
I’ll try really fucking hard. And I’ll feel like shit for a really long time. And it’s not gonna be some elegant tip of the hat and raising of the glass, but it’s gonna have to happen. We’re both gonna be really ugly before it’s okay.
Fuck.
I love you.
I love you too.
I know.