If he wasn’t going to love me, he wasn’t going to love anyone. I walked up to his door and glanced at the time on my phone, 11:37 at night. I knocked on the door three times and waited with a smile on my face for him to open the door. When he finally awoke and came downstairs he opened the door and there was shock on his face, “Emily? What are you doing here? We broke up, remember?” He tried to close the door but I grabbed the edge with my hand. “I just want to talk. I feel terrible about the way we left things. May I come in?” Even if he said no I was already inside. The knife was cold against my thigh, it was concealed within my skirt.

I didn’t bother sitting down, after all I had important things to do. He was right infront of my and looked down. “My wife is upstairs, you need to go soon. Oh, there she is.” A women stepped down the last step and appeared to be pregnant. “Honey who is this?” She smiled at me slightly but looked confused. I walked over and reached under my skirt and took out the knife. “Just an old friend.” I sliced her throat and smiled at her as she collapsed.

“Now about that talk.” I walked over to Evan and set the knife on the coffee table. “You’re a psychopath!” He tried to run but I grasped his arm and pulled him closer. “I said I would only be a few minutes and I’m not a liar.” I picked up the knife. He looked at me with fear in his eyes like prey being captured by the predator. I raised up the knife and sliced. He fell with a sickening thud and went quiet.

I smiled down at him and grabbed the flask I had hidden in my pocket. I untwisted the lid and drank the whole thing. It was acid. My insides disintegrated as the acid made its way down my throat and into my stomach. I fell, and screamed in agony for at least ten minutes before the ground was a mess of melted skin, blood, and flesh.

When the police found my body, I still had a smile on my face just as I had that night.