When we first started wearing the mask, it was a small thing. Something between two friends. Hell, more than friends. Whatever. We loved each other. But it was a joke. Something funny you did. Put the mask on, stalk around the house not speaking to the other. Do the laundry in it. Take a shower. Silent. 

Where did the mask come from? I couldn't tell you now, and I didn't start asking that until after. When it showed up, it was something humorous though. Something goofy. Fun. Something to take the edge off. 

We weren't supposed to be seeing each other, you see, though A-Cell knew. Anyway, when it slipped off the cogs, it all fell to shit very quickly. Why else would I be here, right? Lucky to be alive. Yup.

There was a time when she tied me up, while wearing the mask. Tied me up and made me lay there on the floor while she paced, naked, with a knife. I'm not going to lie, I liked it. I thought it was great, until the first cut.

Three hundred and forty stitches and nine hours of surgery later, here I am, alive. She's gone. They found the mask though, in a sewer pipe a mile from the house. So that's good, right? Maybe I'll see her again, huh? Maybe she's somewhere in it still. 

My face is almost there, they say. Soon. Soon it'll be close to normal. But it'll never as smooth as that mask.