Dot. My life, my meaning, my destiny. Dot, my shining star in the inky sea of night. Your name, like a bubble, fills my mouth, dot, dot, dot, like the knocking of a long-estranged friend on my door, coming home for a joyous reunion. So simple, yet so sweet, dee oh tee Dot. Three letters, one name, coming together in luscious harmony like the Holy Trinity. You are whole, but I am not. Not without you, my dearest, dearest, Dot.

The scent of iron rouses me from my sleep. “MMMMMMMMmmmmmmhhhhh,” I sigh, and then heavily breathe in the rusty musk. It is time for me to make breakfast. I stroll to the kitchen, where I find – you. Crucified upon the wall of your London flat, like a modern Michaelangelo. “I have brought you closer to God than I will ever be,” I mutter, as I open one of the dozens of mathematical, precise gashes on your abdomen. I fill my cup with your blood, and lovingly – *careful now,* *you’ll tear the adipose tissue!* – carefully, remove a slice of flesh. This is my communion. It will sustain me in body and soul. My fingers tremble as I lift the flesh to my lips. They quiver in anticipation. They are not the only part of me that is quivering.

I bite. *Pork*. I chew. I shaved and cleaned you last night, after I killed you. I will not eat unclean meat. You taste like heaven. I begin to leak, my boxers straining against my angrily throbbing manhood. This is what I have waited for. I swallow, knowing that Hell awaits me once I pass on. But I am unbowed. I have already been to Heaven – right here, right now, the dawn light streaming through your curtains while blood drip drip drips from my chin. You are my finest work, Dot. I will never surpass this. I take another bite, and then another, and soon I give in and lose myself in the meal.

After a while, I finish eating, and gaze upon my work once again. Your eyes would be staring toward me if they still existed. Now comes the final part. I rise, and slowly walk toward you. It is time for baptism.

The tub I placed under you is full, but not full enough. I must cut more, or else this will all be for naught. I brandish my knife, and make careful slices along your jugular and femoral veins. The blood starts pouring into the tub. I throw the knife behind me and nearly dive into the tub. Your blood rains down upon me, filling the tub even more. Soon yes yes yes yes yes ooooooh GOD, I think, and a moan escapes my lips. It’s nearly full.

And then it stops. The tub is deep enough for me to completely submerge myself. I gaze up at you one last time. “Thank you.” Then I sink.

It’s dark in your blood. So very, very, dark. Like the inside of a womb. I feel euphoric, like I’ve finally found my home.

30 seconds.

One may think I’m about to die, but really, I’m about to be born.

50 seconds.

The pressure in my chest is mounting. It burns. But love is pain.

70 seconds.

I’m so close.

90 seconds.

yes yes yes yes yes ye sye s ye yyeyyeyseyse seys ey e syes ys eys esy ye ye eyyYEYSYEYSYEYYSYEYYEYSEYSYESYEYSYEYESGHGEYHGTYHGYGHRRHH

110 seconds.

I cum. I ascend.