Broken Promises

Living was never my forte. Death has always fascinated me to the point of no return. All the bones were set on display and blood spattered all over the kitchen floor. This desire of sorts led to my line of work. Toxicology, Forensic anthropology, and psychology. The way of knowing how a killer's mind works has always caused shivers down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. It's such a rush of adrenaline, blood flowing to the cerebrum, making a crucial step deciding how to rein free. Little did I know that this obsession would stand face to face, masking in my presence. Besides, I didn't think he would crave for some broken girl. After all, no one keeps their promises.