I was a drug addict. Yes, yes I was. No longer am I a drug addict any more. I also drank lots.. lots.. of booze. Although I no longer drink, I still get the temptation to drink, ahh..- but I brush it off like its a lone crumb from a sandwich on my shirt. I knew this very kind, petite, caring lady back from when I lived in the Noobic Federation. Her name was Ella Alyssa.

Ella was too easy to manipulate. Too easy or poke fun of. Too easy to beat. I first found out when I asked Ella to fetch me a beer a while back. She obeyed. 'Strange,' I thought. 'Maybe I could get more out of her.' I thought to myself yet again. I asked Ella to do all sorts of heinous things for me. Pick up drugs, more alcohol, cigarettes, really- anything I could ever have wanted. But whenever she wouldn't obey.. I would beat her.

Oh how pleasurable it was, yes, yes.. I had power. A very cowardly power, but still power nonetheless. A dominance over her. A rough dominance. It all ended however when I had too much bitter to drink one night. I remember fragments of it.. I was stumbling through the apartment, screaming for Ella as I had a small fishing club gripped tightly in my hand. I found her cowering pathetically on the bed, phone to her ear and mouth, whispering in a blind panic to Katya about me, and to get help.

Oh how I beat the sunlight out of her. I struck Ella and tugged on her hair, ripping clumps of hair out of her head, I screamed incoherently, bruising Ella's eyelid shut as I continued my assault on her. God.. I took a sick pleasure in it. Splitting her lip, blood dripping out. I only snapped out of my trance as I heard the front door get shot open. I had Ella bent over on the counter, ready to deliver one final blow as I turned my head to the door in a drunken shock.

Katya stood there triumphantly, her chest heaving up and down as she aimed her little girly derringer at me. I lunged, attempting to wrestle the gun out of her grip but then.. Then.. THEN.. She shot me. Twice. In the chest, I collapsed to the floor in obvious pain but I masked it by going mimicking a decerebrate posture. I flexed my elbows toward myself and my legs away from myself.. Then, I went limp. Blood pooled around me as Ella and Katya fled the scene. Not even bothering to call the police for my injuries.

Now, I live in a remote part of Northern Quebec, Kanata. I moved out of the Federation shortly after the attack, and I now live in a little cabin alone with me and my thoughts. Whenever I would spot Ella in public in city, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of longing for her. I wanted her back. But I couldn't. And Shouldn't. I shouldn't feel this way. Should I?