I never thought I could hate one letter so vehemently.

One letter + One message = a pent up molten core of anger ans spite pounding, protesting, vying for freedom in my chest.

 

Never did the possibility of one letter on the screen before me, from a monopoly in 

my heart, causing a suffocating restraint but violent protest within the cold chains

of my own thoughts in my chest nerver even popped its revolting, abhorrent head

into the chambers of my mind. 

 

A red, hissing chain of fury spread through my ribs, restraining breath from escape just like a dry, dismal meadow shrouded

in smoke that takes one ignited flame and it takes off. It had just touched the surface and in the

blink of an eye it was a chain of incensed flames spreading sporadically.

 

That one letter was strung into my mind, slowly and torturously trickling down into my throat, stabbing relentlessly as even a word or sob reached 

desperately for the tip of my tongue, searching frantically for an escape. 

A group of that one letter accumulated in my throat, having a lovely and convenient chat, all of its sharp corners digging deeply and forcefully into the inside of my esophagus, forcing tears to sting my already puffy eyes. More and more letters invaded, making my body its home, furiously stomping its way into the core of my stomach, quickly becoming so dense it formed a cannonball. The mass of the letter weighed in my stomach, threatening to burst at the seams. The pressure became unbearable as an ulcer formed, the letters  s

                                                                                                                                                              t

                                                                                                                                                                r

                                                                                                                                                                  e

                                                                                                                                                                     a

                                                                                                                                                                        m

                                                                                                                                                                            i

                                                                                                                                                                               n

                                                                                                                                                                                  g  violently quick into my blood.

 

Now you wonder why I only want to give this pressure an escape, the mixture trickling out of the busted door, trotting slowly across the valley of skin. Now you wonder why? Now you come to me with a tear-stricken, worried face as I pushed the invaders in my body out, wondering why? Why would I do such a thing? Why do it if I have you?

 

Why, why I would release pain with more pain to distract the original pain. You wonder why I did it. How the invaders got in. Who were the invaders. But you were far more familiar with them than you ever thought. You had fed them to me, shoving your fingers into my mouth with the repulsive taste of rejection coated on them.

You say you don't know what you did.

All I respond with is "K".