She wasn’t going to confess anything. 

She wasn’t going to help him. 

And she couldn’t care less what he had to say. 

Reason didn’t reach her, and she had no capacity to feel actual love. 

His words made no impression upon her at all, except maybe to cement her selfishness.

She was low, immoral, a rat, just like her ex, just as vulgar and phony, which is why she had chosen him, always chosen those like him, 

And, like him, she didn’t have an honest bone in her body. 

Everything about her was an act, calculated to manipulate, 

And those who succumbed to it had no idea that they were her tools. 

What she passed off as sentiment was decided upon, not felt,

The only thing she truly felt being ever-present self-pity. 

She didn’t truly feel love nor friendship, having no capacity for either, and she deserved neither one, only going through the motions, not caring if one day they disappeared, 

Out of sight, out of use, out of mind.

And she had manipulated him, the one she betrayed, the one she had conned into loving her, just as she did everyone else. 

Everything was done for advantage only, for appearance. 

She had never been in jeopardy from anyone, hadn’t been used, and his warning had been wasted, 

As she had been playing them, just as she had played him, 

Her definition of being a good person nothing than pretending to be one. 

She was an evil little narcissist, hiding behind a coy smile, faked interest, or crocodile tears, 

Wholly subsumed by her own ego,

Waiting for another one to come along to use and destroy, so she could ride that high for her final years. 

She was an unholy demon, prostituting herself for what she could not obtain on her own, and the only god she followed, believed in, was herself. 

She only wanted rats, like herself, and, since he was not one, he had held no advantage for her, 

And she proved it, showed her true colors to him in her refusal to be human. 

He had offered her a way for simple redemption, and she had spit in his face again.

But she had erred, as he was not one to bow down to her, like those she knew, to excuse her as the pathetic mess that she falsely portrayed to bend others’ wills to her own,

He knew what she had done as well as she. 

In her arrogance, she had set herself up, leaving a paper trail, and, since she planned to betray him forever, he had no reason not to out her to the world in a place where she could not lie anymore.

And he had no reason to feel badly about it, for he had paid and she had not, and she didn’t care about him anyway.