Death Does Not Become Me....

After another bout of him claiming I was stalking him (maybe?), he didn't believe my words, so I gave him the one thing that might stir the real Zillah inside his demon body; the black diamond engagement ring that he had insisted I take when he proposed marriage. It's strange how we have connections to objects. The blood and tears that went into the story of this ring make it my most prized possession. It was a promise that he wanted to be mine, that he truly did care, but with the recent changes of his loyalties, this promise was lost in the whirlwind of possession, Hell, and summons by another. Last night I was considering my options, spraypainting my favorite propaganda in the alley by the Warehouse. I thought that by giving the ring back to him, he'd either disappear completely, or it would stir the curiosity in him. He snuck up on me, just as I was finishing my green, splattered words. Apparently, "Where has the Revenant gone?" didn't stir any memori

I feel as if my chest is going to cave in, just collapse into itself. Perhaps I'll be pulled into a self-made vortex that will bring me out of this place, maybe to Sea-at-tel. Maybe not. When I see my lover, his face completely devoid of any recognition of our past, I just want to do one of the following things: -Slap the fuck out of him. Maybe he'll snap out of it. -Kill the new Mistress. -Rally Lex to do something about their missing leader. -Punch all of his friends for not doing anything. -Hurl myself at him, screw his brains out, and maybe he'll remember. I thought each one of those through, seeing as how I've had alot of time alone to think about them. Being depressed and mopey isn't going to get my Zillahface back. Being proactive will. Slapping the fuck out of him? That would just piss him off. He's under the spell of some Mistress, so who's to say he wouldn't just dispose of me. It wouldn't be the first time he's tried to kill me.

It's been so difficult without him. The last time I saw him at the Gates of Hell, he wasn't even himself and the seriousness of the situation fell upon my shoulders like a brick. I can't find anyone... no one who will help. It's as if no one cares. No one cares that my Zillah is without a soul and trapped in Hell. After everything he did for our friends, they aren't there when he needs them the most. So I'm going to fix this myself. I have to. There's no other way. Yesterday was a strange turn of events when I saw him in London. I was surprised to see him, but not really surprised when he barely glanced at me. Not even a glint of recognition in his limey and purpley eyes. It took all I had not to hurl myself at him, so I composed myself, tried to look nonchalant, and sat by the fountain column. I pulled this little trick to capture his attention my sisters and I used to play when we were younger. The engagement ring he gave me still sits close to my