• His lips caressed hers as she melted in his arms. The blade in his right hand traced a line in the air above her spine. It glinted like a flare of shimmering metal, catching every ray of light the chandelier above them poured down, making him smile into the kiss, noticing his reflection. Narcissist, they had called him; and he hadn’t denied it, ever. Sure, the smile that bled onto his face was sinister, but she didn’t know that. She hadn’t known a lot of things. This was good. He gently placed the blunt edge to her spine without her even noticing, while a metallic shiver ran up his bones. She was in her own little dream world, where there were no worries or troubles. So oblivious to the world. She was as carefree as a bird in summer. Just her and him. Nothing else; no one else. Even feeling the warmth in her, he still did not retract the blade.
    Envy. Envy is what drove him to this insane monster he had become. He had her heart once; he once held this angel close to his heart, and he wanted the soaring feeling once again. She had tossed him like yesterday's Obituary, and just forgot. He was dead to her, and her life lived on without the worry. He couldn't handle the empty feeling in his chest; it felt like there was always a wound, a void, and a whole lot of nothingness. He knew that he had to have his ex-lover's heart. It didn't matter whether it was just the theoretical version or the literal version. He would have her heart whether she liked it or not.
    The kiss broke, and she instantly felt the cold, electric wave of metallic flow through her, and her bones rattled. She looked up at him, consumed in horror. He tried hard not to burst into complete laughter, but a simple smile stretched across his face.
    He simply said, "Kissed you, killed you." And drove the blade upward, puncturing skin and brittle bone. She lie there, limp in his arms as he continued onward to complete his evil task.