ANGELINA — ACT III KISS ME LIKE YOU HATE ME

[ACT III — KISS ME LIKE YOU HATE ME] [One dirty guitar note.] [WOMAN, almost bored] Love. Beautiful word for such ugly behavior. You've done worse things in the name of it. So have I. [Predatory riff.] I once loved a man who kissed me like he was trying to win an argument. I liked that. For a while. He'd pull me close like I belonged there. And I'd let him. Not because I belonged. Sometimes a cage feels warm when you're tired. [Drums enter.] He said, “You're impossible.” I said, “You're still here.” He said, “I can fix you.” [Cold laugh.] That should have been my fucking warning. Men who want to fix women usually mean: make them easier to own. And women like me sometimes hear “I can fix you” as “I can see you.” Not the same thing. [Hammond creeps in.] He loved my mouth until it disagreed. Loved my independence until it left without permission. Loved everybody looking at me... until he noticed I could look back. [DEAD STOP.] Jealousy. An honest animal. It doesn't say, “I love you.” It says: “I am terrified you'll discover you can live without me.” [Heartbeat.] I understood that. Because I was jealous too. Oh yes. You thought I was above it? Darling, I'm barely above sea level. [Dirty blues guitar.] I checked his phone. More than twice. Happy? There was another woman. Or there wasn't. I made her beautiful. Perfect skin. Perfect legs. Perfect laugh. I hated a woman I'd never met with details I invented myself. [RIFF grows.] Then came the fights. Nothing romantic about two people learning exactly where the other is soft... and pressing. He'd say, “Calm down.” I'd say— Fuck you. “You're crazy.” Fuck you. “Nobody will ever love you like I do.” [Long pause.] That one worked. Some sentences don't sound like threats until years later. [Cello enters.] So I stayed. Left. Came back. Left again. Magnificent. Two idiots setting fire to the house and calling the heat passion. [Huge drum hit.] And the sex? [Pause.] You were waiting for that. Of course. [Low, intimate.] It was good. Sometimes very good. Anger has rhythm. So does revenge. So does the need to make somebody want the body they just insulted. That's not love. But in the dark... it can wear the same perfume. [RIFF HEAVIER.] Kiss me like you hate me. Hold me like I'm leaving. Tell me I'm poison while you drink every fucking drop. [DRUMS SURGE.] There. That's your chorus. You like it? Good. I hate it. [Band cuts.] Because I lived it. [Silence.] And here's the part that ruins the song. He wasn't a monster. [One piano note.] Sorry. Monsters make better stories. He could be gentle. Funny. He remembered how I took my coffee. [Pause.] Yes. Someone remembered. [Mask slips.] Two sugars. No milk. [Silence.] Fuck. He crossed the city at four in the morning because I said I couldn't sleep. And I hurt him too. There. I said it. [Orchestra creeps in.] I knew what he feared. Sometimes I used it. I knew he loved me. Sometimes I punished him for it. [Funeral bell.] So don't ask which one of us was the bad one. That's children's theatre. He hurt me. I hurt him. He loved me. I loved him. [Wordless ritual choir.] And sometimes... all four things happened on the same fucking night. [COLOSSAL BUILD.] You want a villain? Buy a cheaper ticket. You want innocence? Try the church. You want the truth? [She steps closer.] I still remember his hand on the back of my neck. And I hate that my body remembers what my pride would rather bury. [Pipe organ + guitars.] I can despise him and miss him. Forgive him and never want him back. Know we were wrong together... and still remember how fucking right one kiss could feel. That's the problem with the body. It doesn't give a shit about your conclusions. [RIFF.] So yes. Kiss me like you hate me. Want me like I'm leaving. Love me like a bad idea you'll defend until morning. [Massive guitars.] But when the sun comes up... don't call it destiny. Don't call it forever. And for fuck's sake... don't call it love just because we survived the night. [ABSOLUTE CUT.] [Breath.] I did love him. [Long silence.] I think. Or maybe... I loved the woman I became when he wanted me. [Church bell.] That's worse. [Soft laugh.] See? Now you're learning. [Four-note riff, very slow.] At 3:17 I used to ask God to take him out of my head. [Pause.] God has a sick fucking sense of humor. [Whisper.] He took him out of my life instead. [BLACKOUT.]