I wanted to hurt him. Not in the way of cuts and bruises or broken car windows and severed brakes. I wanted to be the only thing on his mind. I wanted for him to write poems about me until his hands cramped and his vision blurred, and then some more. I wanted to infiltrate his dreams. I wanted him to wake up every morning and feel a loss in the pit of his stomach when he opened his eyes and realized I was gone. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted for him to think about me until it drove him to madness. I wanted to course through his veins, like a poison. Slowly rotting him from the inside out. I wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt me. I wanted him to suffer as much as I did. I wanted him to cry until his eyes bled and all he could see was red. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to be the only thing in existence for him. I wanted to rip him apart, piece by piece, until there was nothing left. I wanted to **** him.