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To all the girls who ever wanted to be the hot serial killer’s last meal
Xero made me feel safe. Maybe it was stupid, but I thought he cared. He expressed his love for me in a dozen beautiful ways. He talked about forever, even from beyond the grave.
An hour ago, an online troll pushed his way into my house. His name was JakeRake69, and he wanted to snuff out my life.
Xero. Xero Greaves spent his last day on death row alone and miserable because of me and my cowardice.
Grief hits me like a tsunami, making my legs buckle. My knees hit the wet tiles, and I gasp out a sob. Pain spreads across my heart, overshadowing the rawness around my throat. “I’m sorry, baby,” I whisper through tears.
but I also missed the wedding we were supposed to have in the prison chaplain, followed by three hours of conjugal bliss.
A normal woman wouldn’t become infatuated with the mugshot of a killer. A normal woman also wouldn’t send said killer letters every other day, accept his gifts, or his proposal of marriage.
P.S. Most women spray their letters with perfume. You’re the first who has scented the paper with their pussy. Brava.
When Amethyst dips her head, I pull her into my side. She cried the morning she discovered my execution date had been brought forward, blaming herself for stirring up trouble.
Amethyst deserves lavish aftercare after such a heavy scene.
Mr. Lawson used a drug to kill our baby. Xero used a drug to kill my soul.
