“I love her.”

“Perfect. Kill her.”

I squeeze her hand, one of those squeezes that gets me a timid glance and smile. The insistency in his stare burns behind me as her and I walk. I wish I could make him go away.

“No. I want her.”

“You will never have her. We already know where this will go so this time stop being such a fucking twit and kill her.”

We get to the door and I know I should go home, but I go in. The night engulfs her room and I can still smell the difference here. I go alone to the kitchen and he watches me with jaded eyes. The sharpness of the knife in the drying rack is the perfect canvas for her blood. I wish I could make him go away.