Violent Violet

I was only 17 years old when I died, and it was by her hand. She had snuck through my window one night, and she was beautiful. She just sat on my windowsill, flirting like we'd been friends forever. Part of me was scared of this strange girl in dark clothing who had just broken into my room, but the other part of me wanted her to stay. I felt happy for once in my short, pathetic life, talking with this random girl in the middle of the night. I had convinced myself I had nothing to worry about.

At 3am, there was a lull in the conversation, and she kissed me. She suddenly turned and pinned me against the wall, her lips crashing onto mine. Almost instinctively, I kissed back.

At 3:10am, she killed me. We were still kissing when I felt something cold and sharp in my stomach. I pulled away with a gasp of pain, realizing at once that there a knife in my stomach.

And she had just watched as my life slipped away.