Ladies and gentleman, please take your seats. Our story is about to begin.
‘Tis the oldest story in the book: He desires the only thing he cannot have.
I am here to tell you a story that will torture your thoughts by day and poison your dreams by night. And though I will do my best, there are no words that can be written nor brush strokes laid on canvas that can describe this stark and utter horror of the night that Annabel died.
The emptiness will haunt you.
Black engulfs the dying light as he falls on frail wings of vanity and wax.
The night sky feels as though it has never been darker. With the fleeting hope of vengeance compelling me, I will attempt to recollect myself and resume my chase… But what is it I’m chasing? Am I really chasing anything at all? Or am I simply drowning myself in revenge to avoid the horrifying truth? I’ve lost the only thing that made me feel truly alive… Are my hands responsible? Are his? Who was he? Who was the madman that stood before me tonight? I swear I’ve seen his face before… I know I’ve seen his face before…
Her youthful flush color drained from her. Much like the blood from her veins upon the bedding on which she lie. Such a foul image for one to behold. And in some twisted way, it only seemed to enhance her exquisite beauty, like a lily on a grave. I had failed. Once again, I had let her down. My poor, sweet Annabel. You trusted me. You gave me your love, your soul. Now I fall to my knees before the man who took you from me. I fall pathetic, defeated. I will be with you again so soon, my love. So very soon. The eyes of an angel await me. And I’ll be damned if you think you can stop me now.
Sweetheart… Darling, turn around. It’s me… follow my voice. Everything is going to be okay, my love. Everything will be fine. It’s all over now…
