I had the face surgically removed from your name. Now when I hear it, traumatic imagery won’t tear through my cognition. And when I see you, it will be as if for the first time. No recollection. But my mind’s eye is going blind. Losing vision faster than I care to calculate, and thereby vulnerable. It is possible that, should you force your way within five-hundred feet of my sharpened sightline, I may slowly come to recognize you, but not wholly. In little bits; intermittently, form of retrospection. Such instances would bring me to my knees; send a shiver up my spine; rattle my bones; render me unable to speak. When I’d try to blink them away, upon the reopening of my eyes you’d appear in front of me, like a deity unto a peasant, fully formed. The room would start to spin, and you’ll have long disappeared by the time equilibrium is reinstated. I won’t remember a thing. I’d turn around, and once again you’d be apparent. This time: your eyes, gleaming; your expression, soft.
Which is it?
The terrific fear I will have so recently harbored would dissipate and I’d be drawn to you. The closer I’d become, the more tactical your movements, and the more I’d feel the searing pain in my neck. It would become so intense that I’d become motionless, now due to fear of the unknown, and your abrupt, malicious grin. You’d back away slowly as I’d crumble to the floor, mustering enough strength to feel just below my jaw where the imprint of teeth grazes my fingertips. I’d feel the heat racing to the site of the wound and the fluid rushing freely out from inside. But the gushing sensation would leave me as all I see blends into nothingness. If I were to wake up, I’d suddenly feel as though I was bound to you in an unspeakable manner. We’d share a thirst for blood; a relation deeper than love, but more gruesome and so inexplicably unremarkable that I’d not know what to do with myself should you vanish. I would need you, but I don’t want to have to.
With that in mind, and for the love of all that is good and decent, I pray that the surgery was not botched.