Passion overcame me, sending me spiraling into rage. The results of my mania lay before me. My moist eyes caught a glimpse of the small knife Isabelle kept on her bedside table. For her protection, I insisted, not knowing she was safe in the arms of another. But death? Oh, cruel Death! I never wanted you to come for her. Murder, unintentional and borne from passion, lay doubly on my hands now. The hands that pull closer and closer to that gleaming silver knife.
