Let them eat cake.

It was a pleasure to suffer with you. You must have known this. You must have predicted I would be at your door again, begging to be let in without the need to open my mouth.

“You haven’t changed”, the statement was directed towards me bitterly, “Five years. It’s been five years, and you still look like a wounded puppy”.

“Puppies are good”, I replied, showing off my crooked teeth in an attempt to smile.

“I prefer cats” your nose scrunched in disgust before turning to stride back into the household. I followed, closing the faulty door on my way to you.

“Sit here. I’ll get some tea. Milk no sugar” you reminded yourself before leaving me in the living room that I have burnt into my memory.

It had been your grandmother's house a decade ago and still carried her ghost in the design of the furniture; all antique, damp and dull, but you refused to change it. The only conversion that had been made, however, was the people in the golden picture frames that kneeled on the matte top. I was surprised to see the one of us was still up, taken when everything was simpler and nothing hurt. Time has not been kind to us.

“Here. Don’t spill it”, You directed, shoving the large mug into my hands, not preparing me for the dangerous heat conducted by the ceramic glass. Next, you passed me a small china plate, and it felt strange in my hands knowing that such utilities were only for guests. I supposed I assumed this would always be my home. I was wrong.

“What’s this for?” I frowned, looking up to where you stood, but you knew you didn’t have to answer once you saw the colour drain from my face. It was chocolate cake, and you had graced me with a hearty piece. I swallowed, trying to contain nausea that derived from the sickly sweet smell.

You were now sitting opposite me, comfortably relaxed above the degraded pillows of your grandma’s old armchair. Cunningly your eyes darted forward, and a smirk painted your face before you stabbed your fork through the dark sponge to bring a large piece to your dry lips.

“You look intimidated darling”. I scoffed at that and replaced my glowering face with a fake smile.

“Oh, you must know I’m the last person you ever could scare. I know all your tricks”.

“And all my secrets”, you reminded me. I bit my tongue. “Go on, try some”, the devil spoke threateningly, and I narrowed my eyes in response.

“What are you doing?” My voice became dangerously low, and I finally set the plate down.

“What am I doing? You’re the one that came here unannounced after abandoning me!” You accused holding onto the fork with such ferocity that your knuckles turned paper white.

“I didn’t abandon you. I asked you to go with me. I told you I’d do anything, that everything could have been perfect if you just went with me!” It was my turn to yell now, but despite the heaviness in my voice, you still couldn’t hear me.

“And I asked you to stay!”

Dead air followed, and memories of the past stained our faces, soiled our hands. We were so young, so stupid and still decided to play the role of God. Do you remember that I begged you not to? I threatened to take the poison myself while you stood over the kitchen surfaces sifting cocoa powder and ignoring me with a soft hum. I wish you had never told me your idea, and I wonder still if it was even an option for you.

Flashes of that night appeared now: black market, chocolate cake, dinner party, foaming at the mouth and blue skin.

I stood up, unable to recall why I visited in the first place. I should have known it would never be as simple as visiting an old friend.

“I hope guilt catches up with you, and I hope it kills you to know I will never forgive you”.