I see you. I see the emptiness where your braces were. I see the scars under your shirt. I see the pimples that faded to scars along your face. I see the stupid water bottle you used to carry, and all its past iterations. I see masks you put on; those fake emotions making me think I knew you. I see your hands that hung around my throat. I see the fingers that poked and prodded at me. I hear the voices you used to call me in. I hear the screams you made me make. I hear your breathing, as you lean behind me. I hear the scrape of your nails against my skin. I smell your wretched breath from miles away. I smell the pizza you always had. I smell the hair conditioner that always smelled like you just applied it. I smell the bleach wafting in your room. I know you.