harry,
madison mcnulty was the next victim. with long and wavy blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a smile that could light up a room. you was so in love with her. so why?
you started dating when you were fifteen, until she broke up with you at eighteen. you cheated on her: took her heart for yourself and ripped it out before standing on it right in front of her very eyes. at least that's what you explained it as. you couldn't live with the guilt, so you got rid of it. you killed her, for your own mistakes.
i often sit and wonder, if you never cheated on madison and you were still together, perhaps you wouldn't be the way you are, and neither would i. but then i realise that you had killed someone before, and so you definitely had it in you to do it again. it only took a matter of time. maybe madison just got unlucky, was there at the wrong time.
i pity her.
you made love to her, so you said. watched as tears prickled the corners of her eyes from the pleasure running so deep, felt her completely as she let you have her one last time. you told her that you still loved her, and she wanted you one last time before she let you go. almost like a goodbye.
i bet she didn't know she'd be saying goodbye to her own life in a few short minutes as you climaxed inside of her. and then you left her cold, before tugging your pants on and pulling something out of your jacket pocket. she died instantly, the impact of the bullet strong enough to push her back and hit her head on the wooden bed post.
if you couldn't have her, then nobody else could.
