She hates me. She hates me. She hates me. She hates me.
The thought swamps my brain as I wrap the belt around her neck. She's shaking, she's terrified. She's begging for her life, but that simply won't do.
"Do you love me?" I ask.
She stiffens. The question catches her off guard, and it enrages me.
"No," she mutters, "I don't."
I pull back on the belt, choking her. I see red.
"Die and fucking love me."
