I've been the silent companion of the love of my life ever since fate brought us together what feels like a lifetime ago.

A third of our lives... We've been together for so many years now! So many years of bliss, of watching him, of taking secret photos, of scaring off anyone getting too friendly with him, of going through his trash... Of hoping he didn't flush the tissues this time.

So many years of masturbating together: me at his window or in front of the camera feed monitors in my room, and him on his bed or sofa, looking at other women, listening to their voices. It always made me so jealous, but I knew I deserved it. He was punishing me for being too much of a coward to make the first move.

I was actually content with our life. Happy even. I felt as if I could grow old with him like this. I wanted to be one with him, of course, talk to him, please him... But my cowardice was too strong. What if I wasn't good enough? What if he didn't like me if he got to know me better? So I watched, and I waited.

And then it was too late. He met the bitch at college. She was petite and full of energy, and liked the same music. They bonded over a stupid thing. She told him her favorite aria was Damrau's Queen of the Night, and I saw his eyes light up. I was watching their friendship blossom from afar, unable to do anything. I was looking for a way to dispose of her, but I was late yet again.

They went to see the opera together. Booked separate rooms, maybe to throw me off, or maybe because he wasn't planning on cheating on me initially. I made sure to get the room next to his. After the opera, they went upstairs together, and she sang a different aria for him. I muffled my cries with a pillow as her moans pierced my heart through the wall.

Ever since that night at the hotel, I've been having a recurring dream. The worst nightmare I've ever had, and getting worse every time.

I am in a dimly lit room, on my back, naked, pinned down by a big man. He strikes me and spreads my legs open, keeping my hands above my head with an iron grip. There is crying, and then he does it.

Steals my first. Steals what belongs to the love of my life.

I've tried drugs to keep myself from falling asleep. I've tried hurting myself. I've tried hurting her. I've tried turning her carcass into ash. Nothing works long-term. My body just shuts down eventually, and the nightmare rapes me. It's been very taxing on my health, physical and... Mental. I don't want another man to take my first... I'd rather die. I'm fine dying a virgin, but I won't be defiled by another.

The nightmares and the sleep deprivation drove me to the edge. Something broke inside me. Was it the night of his betrayal, or one of those sleepless nights that followed? I was no longer scared of his reaction, no longer concerned about his feelings... I needed to kill the nightmare. I had to somehow prevent it from happening. At any cost.

So I ended up drugging my love and doing to him what I wanted to spare myself. As he flooded my insides with his seed against his will, the accumulated fatigue finally caught up with me and I passed out.

It was the first time I slept peacefully in months. Until...

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