thello was ashen when last Iago saw him, already a dead man, or at least half-way there. His words were whispered, each a pained gasp, “Why did you do it? I trusted you.”
Iago touched the bars of his prison, and imagined his own reply. Because. Because you had everything and I had nothing. Because I was starved and you were full. Because I wanted to wreck your happiness as easily as you had wrecked mine.
"Because I loved you."
Othello waved his hand, swatting an invisible fly. “Pathetic,” he spat out.
“Pathetic,” Iago agreed, and thought, you trusted me.