"They Don't Love You Like I Love You" (with apologies to the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs)

"They don't love you like I love you."

The message came in the form of a suicice note, stained with the blood of the deceased. Calliope "Callous Calli" Perez took a deep breath, and handed the note in its plastic cover back to the Detective who'd brought it to her.

"What's that make, Callous?" Detective Janna Michaels watched the model/actress's face.

"I can't count that high." Calliope gazed up at the Detective. "I guess this is why they keep assigning you. You're the only one who hasn't succumbed."

"Surely someone's going to sue the studio for negligence for continuing to cast you." Detective Michaels, tucked the letter back into the folio she'd brought it in.

"It's been tried. Legally, the studio is not responsible for the reactions of deranged persons upon seeing me on the screen." Calliope reached for a bottle of wine and a glass. "I'd offer, but I'd like to keep your death off my conscience, Detective. Reggie will see you out."

Detective Michaels stood there a moment longer, as if sure she could crack the case if she asked one more thing. She frowned, and turned on her heel to stalk out, waving off Reggie's help. Reggie followed the Detective out.

The Detective gone, Calliope drained the glass of wine, and poured another.

A few moments later Reggie returned, and leaned against the doorjamb.

"Was it worth it?" He gestured at everything around them, the best and most expensive everything. "Whatever you did to get all this?"

"No." Calliope's shoulders slumped, and she braced her forehead with one hand. "Reg, I was scared child. I just wanted to be loved."

"I know, babygirl." He sighed. "I know."

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