All Kyle could do was shake his head, as her determination to ruin herself grew with what she saw as his arrogance, his presumption. 

“What business is it of yours?” she finally rasped in frustration. 

“You look exactly like his ex-wife, you blathering idiot. You could be her sister, if not her twin. And, as for my business, what you did to me entitles me to mock you until you exhale your last.” 

She stated it bluntly, as if trying to make herself believe it. “You’re just jealous that I didn’t choose you and that someone wants me.”

“He doesn’t want you,” he snorted, thrilled by her naivete, which would bring about the same despair for her that she had foisted upon him. “He wants his ex-wife, a replacement for her. Think about it, dear. What else do you have to offer him? You don’t even really know him, he came out of nowhere, right when you were at your emotional nadir, and he didn’t have the decency to lay off. No, instead he embedded himself … from nowhere. Why is it he can’t find anyone near him? Why you? You just presume everyone that your friends have okayed for you is on the level. When have any of them ever been?”

“You’re full of shit, so arrogant! He’s nice, and we know a lot about each other.” 

“What? What is it you think you know? You only know what he’s told you. You’re not in close enough proximity to him to know what he’s actually like, what he actually thinks. All you know is that you look just like his ex-wife.”

“And what’s wrong with that exactly?” 

“Oh nothing … as long as you don’t consider how utterly sick it. It means he wants a shell, not a person, you dope. He doesn’t really care what you want or care about. He just wants to continue whatever his life was before she left him, with anyone who looks just like her. You really are a dunce, and I take so much pleasure in rubbing it in. You likely don’t even know why they divorced, not the full story … and never will.” 

“You’re sick … obsessed. Why can’t you just go on with your own life? Leave me alone.” 

“I’m sick? Was I the one who lied my ass off to get my way? Am I the one who refuses to ever admit to any wrongdoing? Your definition of “sick” is beyond self-serving, and what you did lives forever in infamy, even if you never confess to it. It lives in black and white. I’m sick? You throw yourself at using toads for their money, though you deny that is your underlying motivation. But, if it weren’t, there would not have been the degenerates you’ve seen, the creeps, the inbred schlubs you’ve danced for. I relish it all, and I want you to finish your game. Go to him. Be his shell, his substitute. Because he only knows what you’ve told him as well, and, when your true nature surfaces, how do you think he’ll treat you? He’ll never love you. He’ll tell you he does, but he only loves the vision you remind him of, not you. Never you. You were warned about men of a certain profession, but you’re too blinded by your innate greed, which you pretend is “proper society,” to understand that they only buy you. You are their concubine, not a person. And this one only sees his ex-wife when he looks at you. If he denies it, then you already know he is a liar.” 

“I hate you. And I’ll never be with you, so get over it.” 

“And I don’t hate you …and you do not have me as an option anymore, you vain lunatic. I only want you to suffer for what you did to me by your own hand, your own choice, not from hatred, but from justice, for both our souls. I did love you … and you were not real. Now you must be fake for him and everyone else, even if you want to be real. You’ve robbed yourself of the choice.”