THE RAPIST.

THE RAPIST: An end to Apologetics.

MEPHISTOPHELES: You see, I raped her. You see those legs spread wide, like Devil’s horns? I was inside of them. Five times. I fucked the woman that you loved. I did it practically in front of you. And I did not relent. She was high. She was an addict. I aggravated her addiction. I destroyed her sexual drive, via cocaine. It was that same drug that afforded me that pleasure, at her expense. I drove a wedge between the two of you. I feigned guilt that I SHOULD have felt so as to make her think she suffered on YOUR behalf. As though I was doing you a favour by neglecting her. Missing her nineteenth birthday. She blamed you. It was much easier than to admit that she was wrong. I played on both of your emotions. My ex had gotten married. That marriage is finished now. I played the Hanged Man; I pretended to feel sorry for myself. As though I’d been the victim of my ex-girlfriend’s betrayal. It was I who had betrayed her. It was I who had betrayed YOUR ex’s sister, so that she, cynical and damaged, would turn against all men, turning your ex against YOU, so her Mother would then turn your OWN Mother against you, for eight years of suffering that I did nothing to assuage. I then used your relationship with your ex to justify my treachery to you. Your Beloved believed it. She ate up every lie I fed her. I never loved her. I just made her fall in love with me. I made her hate you. Every victim I have turned into a Victory. I claim Spite as a Throne. By the time it would have been clear to her you loved her and that her interests were yours, my “guilt” had run its course. I forgave myself, and by extension made her feel that she could forgive HERSELF. She was wrong, of course. She never could forgive herself for what she and I did to you. So she continued to suffer under that guilt, as I laughed at her weakness and your impotence in saving her. That guilt, having run its course in me, turned to anger. For your OWN anger, no longer justified, would justify my own, in self-defense. I claimed Spite as a Throne. I turned my victims into victories. And now: now she is dead. Abandoning you, out of guilt and rage, for she thought it was you that made her feel this way, she turned to me. But it was *I* that made her feel this way. You only brought this Truth to Light. Because you promised to be honest with her. I CONCEALED the Truth from her, so she would never trace it back to me. Until it was too late. Until I found an other whore to use: one much less willful. And by settling for the weaker of the two I destroyed the stronger of them. She died because of me. She died because she could not bear to turn to the man who truly loved her. It does not matter WHEN it was that I hooked up with my new broad. You can tell I do not regret the loss of yours. And she surely foresaw it. All too late, at any rate. Perhaps too early? And I laugh. At her and at you. Because she was your One Chance at True Love. And she was so desperate. She would have gone for you. You would have taken one an others’ Virginity. But I took hers first. I do that. So you could never understand one an other’s Innocence again. So you would die alone in your Ivory Tower of Innocence, while she burned in the Flames of Privileged Hell. All because you trusted me. All because I made it seem like I was such a Troubled Victim. And because I led you to believe you owed me this. But I never confessed I owed you any thing. Not even loyalty. Not even trustworthiness. Not even Justice. Not even Love. Not even her Life, when you, having shed all your pride, made yourself vulnerable again to me. And I have turned ALL of your former friends against you. And you alone know this. But why do you smile? I know: Because I am going to Hell. And you: you have God on your side. And I am laughing nervously at my own Fate.

Dm.A.A.