If they narrow it down to men I've fooled around with, then I'm in big trouble. I'd probably stay silent, I'd probably say there's none. Even though there are, and there have been... many in fact. But for one reason or another, they are un-mentionable, un-knowable and being unable to even so much as hint with their initials, I am forced to shrug and swallow it.
As the spawn of the infidels... my life remains unknown... as the men I play with are never snatched, I remain undiscovered. My betrayals have made me feel guilty, ruthless and proud. They've made me violent, confused and excited.
They've made me wonder if perhaps I suffer from Betrayal Syndrome.
To be continued...