Words hold their power, their manipulation and sway. The funny thing is that a word can have so much meaning depending on its emphasis. Depending on the voice and tone that speaks it.

Will it into a whisper and a word can be sensual, provocative, secretive.

Say it in a shout and it just might break your heart right open.

Words like "I'm Sorry" or "I love you" or even "Go Away." Well those might just last forever.

Imprints and Remains.

I'm not sure I ever believed in anyone when they told me they loved me. Oh sure there are those random exceptions but for the most part ... no.

People speak words so easily to get what they want from you.

They just don't care when they take and take till you feel there's nothing left.

I feel like that some nights. So hollow. Just a shell.

I think somewhere down the line, back there with all the taking and none of the giving I lost my heart.

I have not been able to find it since.

The tragedy is that I still feel, I still yearn, I still wonder, and I still hope... but everything is growing dim.

I'm starting to lose myself.

Maybe I was always lost.

I wish you would find me.

Words are not my only weapons. Goldy had thought that the experiments done by the Doll Maker, what he made her suffer through was the worst of it. She had no idea what the rest of us had to go through.

I still have nightmares over what we had to go through. Violent Games that took place in a location I can only call the Shadow Lands. Those games made me become a hunter, a survivor unlike anything I ever knew. I suppose that?s what happens when you are left to fight to the death against others, in order to survive there was death? there was blood on my hands. I did what I had to but the remorse still lingers. It will always remain.

I was meant to be a caretaker, to nurture and protect. I wasn?t meant to kill. I was never meant to be a Death Dealer. Survival will change that.

There used to be a saying that survivors hate themselves. They do not understand why they survived in comparison to those that did not. Perhaps I repent now. Maybe this is the reason that I?m finding the true stories and telling them as they were meant to be told. To respect and pay tribute to the fallen so they are never forgotten.

Perhaps this is why I made a promise to look after and watch over the little rose and her dark companion. I know the little rose realizes and holds a bond to her dark companion. It is only natural that I look after him too. No matter what his protests or dispute might be, I will do so without question.

I still wonder though of my other promise? that if I leave? I will take her with me.

What if where I go is not as lovely and peaceful as this place she has found to call home now? How will I explain that to her?

I will face that chapter when it comes to be written. For now I must find the right pages and remember the truth rather then the lies. They will betray me in the end.

I have fooled them so much. The tough exterior, the walls I have built. It hides the vulnerability. They hurt you because they can. Toying with the heart because the game crawls and festers in their mind.

You leave your heart in the hands of those you trust and they can break you. Can kill you.

A man will never know the destruction he can do. He doesn't need a weapon or a thread of violence to leave the world crashing down.

I can hold it all together. Wear a smile and radiate warmth and light and joy while I feel death inside.

The intrigue of impulse, the nature of a whim could feel like a knife twisting. Leaving the cold burn of anguish, terror, and fear.

Disillusion. Perfection does not exist. Eventually the disappointment and uncertainty will thread through the soul again. Leave its mark.

You get used to the pain.

That tiny voice in your head tells you that you deserve it. That it is all you are worth. All you are good for is for the world to take, and take, and take from you. Break you and torment you and still you will love them.

Go crawling back like a dog with those apologies on your tongue. Of course you had to be the reason that everything went wrong. You had to be the reason that they hurt you because they can.

Is there pleasure in the pain? Maybe you become a masochist at some points.

Even the sweetest man can become a sadist.

And they do it because they know you're broken.

No matter how much you hide... you're just broken.

Nobody can fix me.

Eventually with a word. With a game, the pain will consume again... and that little voice that makes you hate yourself... will come back...

with words that can deafen....

And yet still you speak of forgiveness, because you just... can't... let go. Because you love them... know and pray that the love they offer you... is real and not another game life has decided to play on you.

You need to have someone there to fill in those empty places because solitude...is unbearable, and you don't want to deal with that little voice that enjoys corrupting your thoughts to tell you... he's just the same as the rest.

Struggling in your head with the knowledge that you know he isn't... but broken, damaged dolls will let their hearts be broken by their own abusive conscience.

Sometimes... I just want the love without the dose of pain that comes with it.

Is this is how it was like when Rapunzel's tower burned down and her beloved fell to the thorns to blind himself? This was how it felt. This sensation. This feeling.

Blinded and burning. Twisting inside. Trust. Deceit. Uncertainty. Affection. Rolling together.

Thin lines of love and hate. I could never despise him.

Something is stirring. Restless in my spirit. Would he carve out my heart and become the Hunter?

Is he becoming the Hunter?

I wander the forest. Lost in the night. Not all to wander... yet I am lost and alive, awakened and vibrant.

Waiting in this casket of glass of the mirrors I no longer can stand to look at.

I'm breaking. Shattering.

Falling apart.

Here nor there.

Perhaps this was a bad decision. To survive. The Games ever so hungry could not be sated.

They might still yearn for my soul to taste, to lick and rip the marrow from my bones till my blood spills into their waiting mouths.

I cannot help but think they are using him. To draw the First Blood.

They are coming for me...

Affection. Emotion. Adoration. Love.

They hit when we least expect. Sometimes like a hole in the head or a freight train. Other times like euphoric bliss.

It is such a moment of intensity no matter what way the pendulum swings.

I'm seeing his face everywhere. Reminding me. I didn't stray. I've always been here.

Distant perhaps but I had to save my own skin. Had to make sure I could make it through and survive myself. Worst enemies within the canvas of my own flesh.

Still I find myself in waiting, wandering but never so lost... hoping that there's still a chance for us.

Maybe I can make this right.

I fell asleep under a full moon. No I was not one that became a werewolf to hunt the night but there is soul blood on my hands.

Nothing so intense as crimson stain but oh it will leave a mark. Something cluttered and clouded my mind. Twisted my spirit and left that emptiness of a void born spirit suddenly filled.

I know these measures of happiness and joy are fleeting.

I will keep them while I can.

I cannot be a possession.

I cannot be a child.

Only now and forever can I be myself.

Everything I yearn for is so close and yet so far away.

The choices I have made, the things I have done... I do not regret.

Never.

Not one bit.

He has to understand that I'd leave the world to drain my dry and discard me as an empty shell if it meant saving him.

Saving the rest.

You call me the martyr. The sacrifice.

I was meant to burn.

Once there was a time I put everyone before myself because I felt that was how it was meant to be.

Survivors loathe themselves.

Why of any was I the one that survived? Why not the others?

I've been born again. Over and Over.

Still everything falls into a repeat. Falls into the same blasted pattern.

And all I can think of is how much I miss you.

Words. They seem so meaningless. So easily corrupted, so easily twisted.

Yet here I remain, transfixed and drawn. Captivated by a voice. Could I have heard this voice all my life?

Could it have been the sound of the voice I have known for eternity? All my life.

That voice could soothe me. Put me at peace.

A thousand butterflies, that rush of warmth in my soul when I knew you loved me.

I believed it when I heard you.

So close.

The entire night I felt you with me.

Things will never be the same.

I will never be the same...

And it is all because of you.

My Love...