There it was the sound of her breathing, something she hadn’t heard in days. Her breathing was ragged and short, a sort of strain. Was she dreaming? She opened her eyes; she was definitely not dreaming. There she lay, tied to the cold, concrete slab, in a basement of her ex boyfriend’s house. He spoke, and his voice startled her; his deep, menacing voice.
“Mary,” he whispered. “It’s not what you think! I said my love for you was strong didn’t I? I said that I felt this way towards you, and I definitely said I’d do anything for you, didn’t I?” Yes, he did say he’d do anything for her, but tying her up and gagging her wasn’t mentioned. As her eyes adjusted she noticed the silhouette of the boy she thought was a homicidal maniac, and yes, he was a murderer. He had fallen in love with several other women before and all of them hadn’t loved him back, so he had taken matters into his own hands by tying them up, gagging them, and bleeding them for days on end, until they said they would love him back. Regrettably, none of them did, and so he killed them; stabbed them in the heart.
And so here she lay, bleeding and cold, in a basement. Love has no boundaries right; wrong. This boy was twisted and evil and definitely out for her, (how to say this without being ironic), heart. She watched him carefully as he paced back and forth, carrying a steak knife in his bandaged right hand. Her eyes seemed to only follow him and as she realised what he was carrying tears immediately ran down her eyes. Mary was afraid of death, she feared it strongly, but it seemed better than being tortured by a knife and bled for weeks on end until she finally passed away from the blood loss.