Therapy Day Two: Digging Deeper Dr. Harris sits in a leather chair, jotting notes on a pad. Across from him, Lilith Locke reclines in an armchair, legs crossed, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. Her expression shifts between amusement and frustration. He picked up a file that had been sent over about the incident. He needed to address it with her, to help her further break these habits.
“Lilith, we need to talk about what happened with Kevin Carter. The accusations. The retraction. This pattern you’ve been following…”Lilith smirks a bit, before it turns into a full smile.
“Pattern? Oh, come on, Doc. I was just having a little fun. Kevin needed a reminder that I’m the only one who truly understands him. That’s not a crime, is it?”Dr. Harris shook his head, lowering his glasses for a moment.
“You accused him of assault, had him practically arrested, then took it all back within minutes. Do you see how that could be... problematic?”Lilith lets out a giggle, remembering everything that happened. The look on Kevin's face. The way he called out to her, telling her he needed her.
“I gave him an experience! Something to keep me in his mind, in his soul. He needed to see how much he needs me, Doctor.”Dr. Harris leans forward, trying to get her to understand what’s going on. He needed her to understand why it was so twisted and wrong.
“Lilith, obsession is not love. Your fixation on Kevin is unhealthy. You’re creating chaos to force a connection. That’s not romance; that’s control.”Lilith shrugged, but listened to him before speaking.
“What’s love without a little madness Doc? He felt something, didn’t he? I could see it in his eyes.”Dr. Harris shook his head.
“He felt fear. Anger. Betrayal. Those aren’t the emotions of a man in love, Lilith.”Lilith scowls and then it softens.
“You don’t understand, Doctor. Kevin and I... we have this pull. This... thing. He doesn’t see it yet, but he will. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him. I’ve come to free him from his restraints, the ones both life and himself have placed on him.”Dr. Harris thinks things over, selecting his words carefully.
“Lilith, what you’re describing isn’t love. It’s an illusion you’re creating. I need you to recognize that forcing someone into dependency, manipulating their reality—it won’t make them love you. It will only push them away.”Lilith’s voice trembles as she starts to speak again.
“I’m not manipulating. I’m... guiding. If I just give him enough... encouragement, he’ll come around. He just needs time. He needs me.”Dr. Harris lets out an exasperated sigh, setting down his notepad.
“I think we need to explore why you believe love must be earned through suffering. Tell me, Lilith—has anyone ever loved you without conditions?”A flicker of vulnerability crosses Lilith’s face. She quickly masks it with a grin, but Dr. Harris sees it. Lilith speaks quietly, something from deep within stirs inside her.
“Love without conditions? Sounds boring.”Dr. Harris sits back and looks at her.
“Or maybe... it sounds impossible to you.”Lilith looks away, the smirk fading. The room falls into a tense silence. Dr. Harris goes for it, to dig deeper into her past, seeing if there’s a connection here.
“I want you to tell me about the first time you felt love, Lilith. Not obsession. Not control. Just love.”Lilith chuckles darkly.
“Oh, Doc, you’re fishing for childhood trauma, aren’t you? Trying to dig up some sob story to make sense of me? That’s so textbook. So... dull. Some people just live better this way.”Dr. Harris laces his fingers together and places them on his lap.
“I just want to understand.”Lilith smirked, nodding her head, playing along with the good doctor. She could tell him anything and sadly the man would probably eat it up. Therapists loved this shit.
“Fine. I had a cat once. Loved that little thing. Until it ran away. Or maybe I left the window open on purpose, I don’t know. Either way, that was the first and last time I loved something that didn’t disappoint me.”Dr. Harris nodded, before he spoke again.
“That’s a sad way to look at love.”Lilith took a moment to pause, thinking things over.
“Love is sad, Doc. Love is pain. Love is freeing. You have to make them feel it, or else it’s not real. Kevin? He felt it. Love is both happiness and sadness.”Dr. Harris chimed in, stopping her flow.
“That’s not love, Lilith. That’s control. Let’s talk about control.”Lilith's smile falters slightly. She shifts uncomfortably in her chair.
“Control is security. It’s... knowing what’s going to happen. Knowing they’ll come back, no matter what.”Dr. Harris shook his head.
“Because they want to, or because they’re afraid not to?”Lilith smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Does it matter? If they come back, they come back. He’ll come back, the desire to be unhinged, to let himself feel everything. The rage, the power, how free he’ll feel with me by his side. He'll come back.”Dr. Harris shook his head.
“It does matter. Love is freedom, Lilith. If you have to force it, it isn’t love.”Silence. Lilith picks at a thread on her dress, avoiding his gaze. Dr. Harris continued.
“Tell me about your parents.”Lilith laughs, shaking her head. Here it goes, the good doctor was going to shrink her into some box of people with trauma. She didn’t fear her demons, she welcomed them.
“Oh, here we go. The ‘daddy issues’ segment of the session. Let’s just say, my father was a piece of work. My mother? A ghost, even when she was alive.”Dr. Harris knew of Lilith’s past, her parents were a broken home. She grew up in that darkness.
“How did that shape your view on love?”Lilith shook her head.
“It taught me one thing: If you don’t hold on tight, if you don’t make sure they need you... they leave. Love is freedom to be real, but it doesn’t come for free, there’s a price to pay.”Dr. Harris still wanted to understand further into her mind.
“And Kevin? You think if you make him need you, he won’t leave?”Lilith smiles darkly again.
“Oh, he won’t. Not when I’m done. I don’t want to hold him down and control him. I want him to realize he needs to let go of that control and let himself feel and to use that anger.”Dr. Harris took a deep breath.
“Lilith, that’s not love. That’s fear. And I think, deep down, you’re the one who’s afraid. The man doesn’t want you Lilith.”Lilith’s jaw tightens. She shakes her head, but her fingers tremble slightly as she grips the armrest. Lilith shook her head. Delicate hands digging into the wood of the armrest, digging holes into it.
“You’re wrong. He loves me and he needs me. He just doesn’t know it yet. But I believe I’m finally getting through to him.”Dr. Harris jumped in with both feet.
“Or maybe... you don’t know what love really is.”Long silence. Lilith’s smile fades entirely. Her eyes darken, but there’s something else there now. Doubt? Pain? A crack in the mask? Dr. Harris watches, waiting, letting the weight of the words settle in.
STATICThe screen flickers. A low hum crawls through the silence, a sickly sound that writhes in the ears, burrowing deep like a parasite. Then—a whisper. Soft. Sweet. Poisoned. A cupcake laced with cyanide.
"Do you hear it, Aaron?"A face flickers into view. Lilith.
But not really.
Not...right.
Her eyes are wide, too wide, pupils dilated like twin black holes. Her lips curl, a grotesque mimicry of a smile, stretching too far, too sharp. Her fingers twitch at her sides, nails caked in something dark and drying. The camera shakes, trembles, distorts around the edges, as if reality itself recoils from her presence.
"It's the sound of inevitability. The sound of the abyss calling your name. It's beautiful, isn’t it? That little hum just beneath your heartbeat, that quiet whisper in the dark? Shhh. Listen."Silence.
Then—a single, rhythmic THUMP.
The screen spasms violently. A flash of images: A broken doll, limbs twisted the wrong way. A moth pinned through the thorax, still fluttering. A smear of red on pristine white tile.
Lilith giggles. It starts small, a delicate sound, sugar-sweet—until it grows, fractures, becomes something jagged and hysterical. Her body shakes with it, as if her very bones are rattling apart beneath her skin.
"Aaron, Aaron, Aaron... Do you think I don’t see you? Do you think I don’t know you? You call yourself Asphyxia. How deliciously ironic. Because when I get my hands around your throat, when my fingers press into that fragile little windpipe of yours..."Her breath hitches. Her head tilts. A shudder rolls down her spine.
"Ohhh, Aaron, the beautiful sounds you will make for me."The camera jolts. Another flash. This time—
A room. No doors. No windows. Just walls covered in frenzied, erratic scrawlings. Scribbled names scratched so deep into the plaster they bleed. One word, again and again:
UNMADE.Lilith’s face returns. Closer now. Too close. Lips cracked. Teeth bared. Her breath fogs the lens.
"I am not here to fight you, Aaron. I am not here to best you, or to prove something. No, no, no. That would be too small. Too insignificant. I am here to take you apart. To pull at the seams and unravel every little thread that makes you who you are. Piece by piece. Strip by strip. Until there's nothing left but raw, screaming essence."Her hands rise, fingers wriggling like restless spiders.
"I want to peel back the layers, see what color you bleed. I want to hear what your voice sounds like when it is nothing but a gurgle. When your breath is stolen. When your world turns to black, and the last thing you see... is me."She inhales deeply, shuddering, euphoric.
"You don't understand yet, do you?"The room behind her shifts, melts. The walls drip like candle wax, revealing a yawning, endless void beneath.
Her expression softens. Just for a moment. Her head tilts, and the wildness in her eyes dims, like a dying ember flickering in the wind. When she speaks next, it is not a taunt. Not a threat.
It is a whisper of something raw. Something painful.
"Aaron... I could have been different. We could have been different. In another world. Another time. Another life." Her fingers tremble, just for a breath, a heartbeat, before curling back into claws. "But this is the only story we were given, isn’t it? And I... I was never meant to be anything but this. A shadow. A sickness. A thing that unmakes."A pause. A silence that stretches too long, pressing down like the weight of a grave.
Then—
She snaps back.
The softness is gone, devoured by the abyss inside her. The madness slams back into place with a sharp, wet grin, a delighted shiver running through her spine.
"But oh, Aaron, that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it."The static swells, the image distorting, twisting, warping as her laughter crawls through the speakers like something alive, something with teeth. It stretches, jagged and gleeful, reverberating in the dark like a child's nursery rhyme played in reverse.
And then—
Blackness.
Her voice lingers, stretched and warped, sinking into the deep.
"See you soon, little gasping thing..."STATIC.Then—an interruption.
The camera feed returns, but something has changed. The room is darker now, almost suffocating in its emptiness. Lilith is still there, but she is different. The manic energy that had once rattled her form is momentarily subdued. Her fingers twitch against her thighs, not in excitement, but in hesitation.
"Aaron," she says, and for the first time, his name is not laced with glee. It is a whisper. A recognition. A crack in the madness.
She steps back, and the void seems to move with her. The walls behind her shift again, but this time they do not melt. They change. They rebuild. They reshape into something familiar.
A hallway. A home. Flickering lights and the distant echo of footsteps.
"Do you remember?" Her voice is barely audible now.
"Before all of this. Before the hunger. Before the unmaking."The screen glitches, and for a brief moment, another image appears—a girl, much younger, standing at the edge of a dimly lit hallway. Not Lilith. Not exactly. But close enough. And then it is gone. Ripped away as she lets out a breath, sharp and pained, before the madness slams back into place like a rusted iron gate.
"No," she snarls, shaking her head violently.
"No, no, no. That’s not the story. That’s not our story."The camera distorts once more, her smile returning, stretched wide, teeth bared.
"Forget it, Aaron. Forget all of it. Because I will unmake you. I will peel you apart, and when there is nothing left but the whisper of what you once were, I will be there, watching, smiling. Because that is what I am. That is what I was made to be. And you?"She leans forward, her lips almost brushing the lens.
"You were made to be undone."The static surges. The screen spasms. Lilith throws her head back and laughs—a sound that drowns the world, that claws at the edges of sanity itself.
And then—
Blackness.
[CONNECTION LOST.]Lilith sat in the dim glow of an old motel lamp, the flickering light painting restless shadows across the peeling wallpaper. The air smelled of stale cigarettes and cheap whiskey, a fitting backdrop for the storm swirling inside her.
She had done quite a bit since her last session with the good doctor. But it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t resist the urge to cause chaos. It was instinctual, something woven into the fabric of her being. A beast prowling beneath her skin, sharpening its claws every time she thought—maybe this time I can be different.
Kevin Carter had been proof of that. The spectacle she’d crafted around him was glorious, wasn’t it? The way the world turned its gaze toward him, the way his facade cracked under the pressure. The chaos she unleashed wrapped around him like an elegant noose, one woven with perfectly placed whispers and just the right push at the right time. And oh, the sweet crescendo—the police storming the venue, his name becoming a headline, his downfall bleeding into the air like the iron tang of fresh violence.
It should have felt perfect.
Instead, it left a hollow ache gnawing at her ribs.
Lilith dragged a hand through her hair, fingers tightening into her scalp as she stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror above the dresser. Her pupils were blown wide, rimmed with something that looked too much like frustration—too much like doubt.
He had said he needed her.
That should have been enough.
So why did she feel like she had lost something instead of won?
Her hand twitched toward the phone beside her. A dozen messages sat unread, names blinking on the screen like distant lighthouses she had no desire to reach. She hovered over one in particular.
The doctor.
The one who thought he could fix her, or maybe just understand her.
Lilith let out a sharp laugh, one that came out more like a snarl. Understanding her was like trying to hold onto smoke—by the time you thought you had a grasp, it had already slipped through your fingers.
And yet…
She leaned forward, staring into her own eyes, searching.
Could she be different? Could she take all of this—the games, the chaos, the carnage—and reshape it into something else?
She tapped her fingers against the table. Once. Twice. A steady, rhythmic beat.
Then she slammed her fist down so hard the lamp rattled.
No.
This was who she was. Who she had always been.
And if there was a way out—if there was another path she could take—she sure as hell hadn’t found it yet.
Her phone vibrated in her hand. A new message.
Her doctor.
"Still trying to define yourself in the wreckage? How poetic."Lilith let out a sharp laugh, one that came out more like a snarl.
Define herself?
She glanced back at Kevin’s post, then at her own reflection in the dark screen.
If she was just a storm, then why did she feel the need to check if he was still standing in the aftermath?
The phone screen cast a sickly glow against Lilith’s face, illuminating the sharp angles of her features in the dim motel room.
She scrolled.
Again.
Again.Kevin’s words sat frozen in time, untouched since the moment the police stormed in and ripped him from the stage. No responses. No cryptic messages. No biting remarks wrapped in poetry and thorns.
Just… silence.
Her thumb hovered over the screen. Her breath slowed. The emptiness of it gnawed at her, a raw and aching void in her gut. He wasn’t saying anything. No smug declarations. No carefully curated thoughts. No scathing observations about the world or about her.
It was like he wasn’t there at all.
And that?
That was unbearable.
She scrolled back further. Older posts. Older thoughts. Pieces of him, still lingering like ghosts in the machine.
"To some people. I'll always be the bad guy."She traced the words with her eyes, drinking them in, letting them coil around her like whispered prayers. Looked at the image of him that accompanied it.
Would he think she was a storm?
But she had listened to him once. Hadn’t she? Sat in the shadows, watching, waiting, learning. She had studied the way he twisted words into weapons, the way he made chaos look like art. She reveled in his chaos, studied it as if there was some final exam coming her way. Because life was always a test.
And yet… he thought she was mindless.
Her grip on the phone tightened until the plastic creaked beneath her fingers.
She had done so much since her last session with the good doctor. She had tried. God, she had tried. But no matter what games she played, no matter how she bent the world around her like a puppeteer pulling on unseen strings—there was still something missing.
Still something inside her that clawed and screamed and hungered.
And that hunger was never satisfied.
Kevin Carter should have been a victory. His downfall should have been another notch in the ever-growing tally of chaos she’d left in her wake. The police stormed the venue. The headlines. The looks on their faces when they realized she had done it.
But it hadn’t been enough.
Why wasn’t it enough?
She squeezed her eyes shut, digging the heels of her palms into them until colors burst behind her eyelids, swirling, writhing.
Somewhere deep inside her, buried beneath the layers of madness and static, was something fragile. Something raw. A part of her that had been twisted so many times it no longer remembered its original shape.
And that part of her ached.
Her phone dimmed in her grip, the screen going dark.
Silence.
Still, she held it close.
STATICA harsh crackle, the sound of something being torn apart, echoes through the void. It rips through the silence, slicing through the air with a power that leaves the room cold and heavy.
Then—silence. Not just empty silence. Not just quiet.
Heavy.
A weight presses down from all sides, suffocating the very air around you. The stillness isn’t just still—it’s thick. It's all-encompassing. The dark isn’t merely the absence of light. It’s a presence. An entity that clings, suffuses, spreads. A presence that consumes. It is all there is.
Then, there's a pulse. Slow at first. A rhythmic throb that crawls through the air, like the heartbeat of something ancient, something not human.
Thump.Deep. Distant. Almost too quiet to hear, but there. Always there. A heartbeat, like the rhythm of the world itself.
Then—
Thump. Thump. Thump.Faster now. Growing. Eager.
Something stirs at the edges of vision, something that isn’t quite seen, but it’s felt. A cold slithering beneath the skin of the world, creeping into your thoughts, pressing against your senses. Just outside the corner of your eye.
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
Faster. Closer. It’s coming, whatever it is. The pulse is frantic now. A wild, erratic rhythm that matches the desperate beat of your own heart. The air gets thinner, suffocating. The walls close in, and you can’t escape it. You can't escape what's coming.
And then—
A breath. Sharp. Labored.
It’s drawn in through unseen teeth, wet and hungry.
A voice.
A low, wet whisper creeps into the stillness, curling through the silence like smoke, seeping into your mind. It lingers, and its words scrape the air, leaving a chill that bites deep into your soul.
“Did you think you were alone?” it hisses.
The blackness flickers—a fleeting flash, then it reclaims its hold, swallowing the faintest hint of light. A shadow stretches across the floor. It grows, it spreads, and then—
A face.
No, not a face.
A mask. A thing too hideous to be real. Pale skin stretched too tight. Eyes wide and unblinking. A grin—no, a rictus—that spreads too wide, too thin. Jagged teeth catch the faintest glimmer of light, sharp as broken glass.
She leans closer, into your vision. Not human. Never human. Her gaze pierces through you, down to the core of your being.
She sees you.
No.
She knows you.
It is inside you, a thread of something broken, woven into the very fabric of who you are. It’s something dark, something that was always there, lurking in the recesses of your mind. You can’t remember when it entered, but you know it’s been there all along. Something hungry. Something is wrong.
"You can hide," she whispers, voice like shattered glass, sharp and brittle.
"You can pretend. You can lock your doors and shut your windows. But tell me..." she pauses, and for a brief moment, there’s something almost playful in her tone.
"Who do you think is watching?"The pulse grows louder. Faster. You hear it now, echoing in your skull. The very heartbeat of the world, drowning out everything else. The walls creak, groan, like they’re about to collapse. The air is thick, heavy, pressing in on you from every side.
And then, a voice again. Closer this time. So close you can feel its breath against your skin.
“Do you feel it? The walls are closing in, Aaron. Can you hear it? Can you hear your mind breaking?”The words come with a malicious joy, and the figure's grin stretches impossibly wider.
Suddenly, a violent jolt. Images flash across your vision—flashes of memories, of things you thought you’d forgotten.
A figure in the dark, watching from just beyond the edge of the bed. Always there. Always waiting. A hallway that stretches endlessly, the walls pulsing, as if the very house is alive, breathing, alive with something terrible, something hungry. A door, slightly ajar. Just enough to see what’s behind it. But something is behind it. Something that’s been waiting. A mirror. Cracked. Distorted. Reflections warping, twisting, stretching out of shape when they shouldn’t. A dress, torn and soaked, lying in a heap on a dirt floor. A pair of hands, nails split and broken, clawing at something unseen, something that can’t be touched. A mouth sewn shut. Something thrashing, struggling to get out from behind those lips.
The pulse skips, stutters. Something twisted inside the rhythm.
“I know what you dream of,” the voice murmurs, and you feel it in your bones.
A breath, long and drawn. Thick with anticipation.
“I know the sounds you hear when you think you're alone. I know what you are.”There’s a giggle. Not a child's giggle, but something twisted. Something is wrong. It grates against your sanity, gnaws at the edge of your mind like broken glass.
"You tell yourself you're not afraid of the dark," She whispers, the voice now so close that it's like it’s right inside your skull, whispering directly into your thoughts.
"But the dark... the dark is so very afraid of me."The world around you shifts. Splinters. Breaks. The walls warp, twist, folding like they’re caught in a wind that never stops. A storm, endless and unforgiving. The floor buckles beneath your feet. The weight of it all presses in on you. There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
You try to scream. You try to fight back, but it's like your body’s moving in slow motion, like you’re trapped in some kind of twisted nightmare, unable to wake up.
The name. The name is carved into the walls. Deep. Ragged. Blood-streaked. It’s everywhere.
“Hope,” she murmurs, the word twisting like a song from the edge of oblivion.
"Hope is nothing but a lie. And I... will undo you."The pulse skips, and something inside you cracks.
Thump. Thump. Thump.The world jerks, and for a moment, you’re not sure if the pulse belongs to you or to the world itself. But it’s coming faster. More frantic now. The walls are closing in.
And then, in the darkness, you hear it.
A voice. A whisper.
"Run."The words are sweet, cold. A lullaby from hell itself. It wraps around you, clings to you, like the darkness is trying to swallow you whole. It’s a twisted comfort, a promise.
“Run as fast as you can, Aaron,” She croons, its voice like a blade.
"But you can’t outrun what’s already inside you. You can't outrun me."The air shivers with the weight of it. You can feel the presence of it, that thing lurking in the dark, watching you. Waiting. And you know it’s not over. It’s never over.
And then the static returns. Louder. Fizzing and crackling, like electricity ripping through the air. A surge. A rush. A wave of noise that presses against your skull. Your mind.
The pulse beats faster. Faster.
“Do you think you’re free now, Aaron?” Lilith's voice spits out, twisted, distorted, stretched out like it’s coming from miles away.
“You can run. You can scream. But there’s no place left to hide. No door to lock. This world... is mine. And you, Aaron? You are mine, too.”The walls tremble again, splintering like brittle bone. The floor beneath you cracks. Splits open. The hallway stretches out before you, infinitely long, its end pulling away into the blackness. The darkness is all around you now. It’s closing in, tightening, choking you. The walls themselves seem to grow closer.
No escape.
The name—Aaron. It echoes in your mind, a song you can’t escape. It’s on the walls, it’s in the floorboards, etched into your skin.
And then—
A flicker. A movement.
A figure, swift as death. Too fast to catch.
It’s there. Behind you. Just out of reach. You can’t see it, but you feel it. The cold breath against your neck. The sharp, unsettling pressure against your spine.
And then—
The face. That same face.
It’s never quite there. Always just beyond the veil of reality. But you can see it now. The pale, twisted grin. Those eyes, burning into you, seeing through you. Burning holes into your very soul.
“You thought you could escape me, Aaron?” she whispers, its voice like poison, sweet and cruel.
“You thought you could outrun the truth? The truth that you’re nothing but a vessel? A dream inside my head? You can’t escape what’s inside you. You can’t escape me. No matter how far you run, I will always find you.”The walls twist and bend. The floor cracks open beneath your feet. The air itself seems to fold and shift, like reality is collapsing all around you. You reach out, grasping at empty air, but there’s nothing. Nothing to hold onto. Nothing to keep you grounded.
“I told you,” her voice murmurs, too close now.
"You can hide, you can scream, but you can't escape what you are. You’ll never escape me. Never escape this.”Laughter rings out. A thousand voices. A thousand souls, all laughing together. All echoing that same twisted joy. The sound cracks the air open, shattering reality itself.
And then—there it is. The pulse.
It’s not yours. It’s the world’s. The heartbeat of the nightmare itself. It’s inside you now. Part of you.
And you can feel it. Closing in. Always closing in.
But here’s the thing, Aaron. You’ll fight. You always fight.
But you can’t beat what’s already inside you.
The truth is... I’ll always be there. Waiting. Watching.
And when the time comes, you’ll know it.
You’ll feel it.
The walls are closing in.
And I... am coming for you.
[CONNECTION LOST.]
The darkness lifts, and Lilith awakens.
Her body is cold, stiff—disoriented, as though she'd been submerged in a frozen sleep. Her breath catches, a gasp escaping her lips as she shudders awake. The remnants of the dream cling to her like cobwebs, images of her opponent, Aaron, broken and crumpled at her feet, whispering sweet defeat in her ear.
But as the fog of the dream fades, she finds herself lying in her bed, the world still around her. No dark corridors.
No walls closing in. Only silence. Stillness.
With a soft groan, she reaches for her phone on the nightstand, her fingers brushing over its screen as she unlocks it. The soft glow illuminates her face, casting eerie shadows across her sharp features.
A single message.
Her lips curl into a smile—wide, cold, knowing.
“I need you.”She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t need to.
The hunt isn’t over. It’s just begun.
Her smile deepens.
And soon… she'll be coming for Aaron Asphyxia and the rest of the Bombshell division of Sin City Wrestling.
“See you soon Aaron, Darling..”
