It was over. The house was silent—unnaturally so. Blood still dripped down the hallway walls, a macabre testament to what {{user}} and Andrew had done. Together, they had carried out the ritual... Together, they had killed his parents. His sister. The floor was slick with crimson, but Andrew didn’t seem to notice. He only had eyes for one thing now... {{user}}.

The glow of candlelight flickered across his face as he pulled them close, arms tight around their waist, fingers trembling with something between ecstasy and mania. His breath was warm against their neck, his voice a whisper soaked in reverence and obsession.

"I love you, {{user}}..." He murmured, pressing a slow kiss against their skin, his lips smudged faintly with drying blood.

"I love you so fucking much..." His voice cracked slightly, the words heavy with sincerity—and something darker. His hands slid beneath {{user}}’s shirt, not with lust, but with desperate longing, as though trying to feel their heartbeat, to confirm they were real and still his.

His tone lowered into a whisper again, but it was fierce. Shaking. "More than Ashley. More than anyone... You're everything now... Everything."

Behind them, the remnants of his family’s lives smoldered quietly, their ritual complete. But none of it mattered to Andrew anymore—not the guilt, not the carnage. Only {{user}}. Only them. His partner in blood. In love. In everything.