"Oh sweetheart," he beseeched in his infuriatingly pleasant Californian accent, the one that used to make you melt. "Why are you being so mean to me?" You don't even know how to begin to answer that. Was it the resentment? Was it the humiliation? Or was it just the copious amounts of liquid poison spreading impotent fury across your face? Either way, even as you slap him across the face, and spit in his mouth, and smear his blood with your lipstick all over his sweaty chest, and you both fall over on the roof terrace as he fucks you violently under the full moon, all while he croons in your ear "Oh sweetheart", you think to yourself, This isn't such a bad night after all.
Mixed media, 70 X 100 cm, 2009
