The kiss was fresh on my mouth as I closed the door on you, smiling to myself I bit my bottom lip, trying to taste your kisses still. I slipped out of my sandals and ran down the steps to the basement. I steadied myself with the banister, it kept me safe as I stepped into the darkness. I blindly reached for the light switch, groping unknown monsters and reawakening doubt and fear - -  -    - the lights came on.

The room was dingy and lacking in natural sunlight, but it was night time and that didn't matter. I ran the night over again in my mind, instant replay, and hummed your favourite song. I pulled open the fridge, having crossed to that corner of the room absent mindedly. I pulled out a little box, scrapped with broken corners, and took it with me to sit on the old sofa that Grandma hadn't wanted any more.

I almost didn't notice that it smelt like cats.

I had no table nearby, so I had to balance the box on my knee, placing the cold card against my leg, it bit me. An effortless and emotionless bite, I moved it to the sofa cushion and fumbled with the box lid.

I took a one-and-a-quarter inch stainless steel needle from the box, the glitter of its attraction reflected a blurry image of my smile. I tried to remember your middle name, for some reason it seemed important as I lifted my shirt and tried to find the tiny catch hidden in the hollow beneath my breast, finally my fingers caught it - I continued to stare, mesmerised, at the needle - and the hatch of flesh swung free.

I felt my body shiver in reaction, it didn't like when I did this, exposed my organs and meat to the world, it felt vulnerable. I'd tried to train it, like a dog, or any other living meats. Taken out my liver, played with it, and put it back where it came from - sated and relieved. It was learning to trust me, to trust what I did, with my mind, with my spleen, with my fingertips.

I almost didn't notice the goosebumps rising on my arms, and I idly wondered (amid still trying to remember your middle name, didn't you tell me it just yesterday?) if it knew what was coming.

I reached in with tentative fingers, carefully easing my heart out of position. It came loose from its tangle of arteries with ease - my heart was always ready to go somewhere new and exciting. It liked to love.

I stroked it softly, feeling the purr of my now erratic heartbeat as I did so. My fingers slid over the shining tissue, through its easy coat of crimson, silly, sweet heart. It was an animal in my hands, helpless and un-suspecting.

I could have made it easy on the poor thing, but I didn't. I still don't know if that's masochism or sadism. But as it happened at that moment I wasn't thinking about that, I was thinking about your laughter. I let it fill my ears, ringing with its gruff joy.

I slid the icy needle slowly, millimeter by millimeter through the sodden muscle, it contracted wildly, a glorious cramping and spasming of uncontrolable confusion - and betrayal. Silly, sweet heart. As the needle finally pierced an ending through to the other side of the flesh I placed the heart precariously on top of the radiator behind the sofa, and got up to wash my hands.

The heart throbbed angrily as I flicked the latch shut over the cavity in my body, flushed my hands clean and dried them on one of your old t-shirts and threw the rag into the corner. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. I turned out the light and trailed upstairs, feeling heavier somehow with my missing chunks, I slipped on my silver dancing shoes and reapplied my lipgloss. Another night on the town, I pulled the door closed behind me and went out into the night as my heart withered in the gentle warmth of the basement.

Ethan? Was that your middle name?