It didn't work? How disappointing. I'd hoped you had dug deep enough to rip those rotting roots out of you, or maybe die trying, but that's not something you're very good at, are you? A roach is a roach, always squirming and festering under the skin, undying. And there's never enough to really destroy it, is there?
Oh you can pick and claw and grab and bleed but it won't get rid of it. It's a parasite, and rooted inside you so deep it's practically... another you. Maybe you'll be like this your whole life. Itching... a deep, burning ache forever smouldering inside the pits of your body, unable to be removed by doctors or priests or any amount of help.
Maybe one day you'll take a knife and cut it out. Limb after joint after muscle, crying through the overwhelming pain. And you'll keep going. Keep chopping and bleeding until it's too much and you collapse.
You die there, itching and in pain, and no one will care.
No one will care about sad, little, itching, Lucy.
Hiw do yoy kmow me whst do yiu wqnt wgy do uou wabt me to hurtt mudelf whzt do yoj esnt whu whh why
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Nno no I kniw wgat you want from me I won't do it Im not gonma cut myyself for your sick entrrtaimnent go awsy leave me be fuck off I'm smarter than that I know better fuck yiu
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