I loved Marjorie with every fibre of my being. She was my first true love. And she loved me back, oh my word did she love me back. I mean, she didn't say anything, but I knew. I could see it in her eyes.

Your first one is always the hardest to get over. Luckily, I never had to get over Marjorie. She will love me forever. She didn't say that, not in those words, but sometimes, you can just tell. When I looked into her eyes, I knew. And that was good enough for me.

I bought her a puppy, once. It died the same day, before I even got a chance to give it to her. So I had it stuffed, and gave it to her anyway. She cried a bit, but I think they were tears of joy. Sometimes the joy was so intense for her, she couldn't bear to look at little Snuffy. I'd find him stuffed into an old suitcase, or in the attic. One time she even threw him out, left him in the bin. Joy can be hard, sometimes, harder than misery.

We didn't live together, me and Marjorie, not at first. She was old fashioned like that, wouldn't even let me into her house. She was so religious, one time she even called the police and had me arrested, so that I wouldn't come into the house and break the sanctity of her womanhood. Even got a restraining order, just in case. She loved me SO MUCH, she was prepared to go through all that, so that I wouldn't be stained by my own sin. But that was Marjorie for you. Always caring. Always loving.

We had our ups and downs, like every other couple. But they just made us stronger. I remember after one argument - can't even remember what it was about - where she was screaming and screaming at me to leave her alone, and I was like "Marjorie, if you're all alone, who will protect you?" That's why I had the knife. For her protection. She had to be kept safe, I mean, there's wackos out there, you know?

But we're over such petty troubles now. Me and Marjorie will be together forever. My current girlfriend doesn't know anything, of course, she wouldn't understand. She wouldn't understand that my love for Marjorie is pure, virginal, holy. I've told her that I keep all my photo equipment in that room, which is why she must never, ever go in there, in case she ruins the chemicals and negatives by accident. The door is triple locked, for safety. I always said I would keep Marjorie safe. And now I am.

I have to go in when Jo is asleep. I wait, making sure that she is fast asleep, then I chloroform her to make sure she won't wake up and disturb me. I pad downstairs, and unlock Marjorie's room. I go in, kiss her gently on her bony forehead, and bask in her love.

The years have not been kind to Marjorie, but for me, appearances mean nothing, not when you have the kind of love that me and Marjorie have. I've had to put broken pieces of mirror into her eye sockets - I light a candle, and make it flicker, the reflected light from the flame dances around and makes it look like her eyes are twinkling at me. I get out the leftovers from yesterday's dinner, take my clothes off, cover myself in The Ointment, and express my love for Marjorie. She doesn't need to do anything back, I wouldn't ask that of her. But I know that she loves me, just as much as I love her.

I can see it in her eyes.