The Leech

I fell for him.I hate to admit it, but I did.

I was young.

It was sudden.

It was stupid.

Back then, I made sudden moves.

Back then, I did stupid things.

I wrapped him around my little finger.

So easily, he winded.

With ease, he leeched on,

breathing through my skin,

gorging on my blood.

Thinking I could peel him off at will,

I played with him.

I breathed life into him.

I encouraged him to suck.

Then I was bored.

He was boring.

All take.

No give.

I wanted to remove him.

Attach him to someone else.

Anything else.

The first attempt was painful.

But I am not him.

I am not weak.

Each time afterwards, he would snigger.

He would strengthen his grip,

rob me of my air.

I had no choice.

In the kitchen, I sharpened the largest knife.

In the kitchen, he would panic.

I sliced my pinky clean off.

I heard his puny wails.

I laughed maniacally, then stopped.

There was blood everywhere.

I needed to save my pinky.

I wanted to save him.

I put my finger in the freezer.

I tended to my hand.

With my bandaged hand, I returned to the freezer and took out my pinky.

He was still alive.

Good.

Every morning, I greet my pinky and rub my stub.

Every morning, he sneers at me.

Every morning, I laugh at the leech.