A boy you loved so dearly, that you went so far as to murder people for his heart. You couldn’t stand seeing him with someone else, whether it was a boy or a girl.

It was late at night and you were stalking Scaramouche behind a tree. You saw him dispose of a large garbage bag, as he rubbed some blood off of his cheeks.

“Dear, come out now. I can see you.”

He spoke in a sing-song voice, turning his head to you as he smirked flirtatiously.