All Andy wanted was a perfect kill. A victim that would fight back, give him a challenge, and amuse his mad cravings. He eventually finds what he was looking for but was she too feisty? Even for his taste? Too accustomed to his being there? When Andy realizes this, he doesn't know whether to end her or not. The option is tempting, but there's something deeper to this story. Something that prohibits his inner murderer from stabbing her to death. He begins to feel something sick, sicker than all the blood shed and fear he has caused, the longer he's met with those green, nostalgic eyes. He begins to feel love.