"What do you mean?" I ask in a shaky voice. His once scintillating green eyes, turn from emerald to stone cold green. A kind of green that is a beautiful shade, but gives off a deadly vibe. "We can't be with each other." I shake my head. His voice gives out an evil chuckle. I watch him. "Oh, sweetheart, do you think I want to be with a prude like you?" My face drains of color. But then, I remember. I remember a few weeks ago. That one night there was a gun. And I was right there. The images came all over again. I looked at his devilish smirk. "Do you think I want to be with a murderer like you?" His face fell and he shut up. © 2015-2016 | bocaxstyles
10 parts