Inside the bag is a mold of my hand, so when you feel like holding someone’s hand, you can hold mine and not the lanky blond boy’s who walked you home. Seeing your perfect hand in his unworthy one made me murderous, little mate. You are mine, and I will do whatever is necessary to keep you, no matter how unconventional or vicious I have to be. Always remember that. Viciously Yours, Nick P.S. I wish I knew your favorite color. Mine is red, like blood.
