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Morning of the 26th.

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Introduction

Morning of the 26th. An overwhelming slap. Screaming with horror and repulsion no fear. Not from him or anyone else. I released all the pain. I pulled the trigger back. My trembling hand raised the gun to my head. "First patient in cubicle seven Paige. Be careful," Lisa called frowning. Be careful. I wish I had paid more attention then. Just thought - what should I be careful about? What is there in life to be scared of? But I didn't, and that split second decision changed my life forever. It was the morning of the 26th and a mere month to my wedding day. First patient, a Mr. Logan Harne. Not the most chivalrous person to walk the planet. He seemed very engaged and inquisitive in everything. That sounds like a perculiour comment to make, but he was so interested in me. My age, my hobbies, my views on politics, world peace... He probably knows more about me than Bruce, my fianc´┐Że I thought giggling to myself, flattered by his curiosity. After clearing up and finalising my last patients I left for home. I was thinking about how cold it had become lately. ...read more.

Middle

Logan was very definitely in my mind, more like occupying my mind. His face, his attitude, the undeniable sense that he was bad. I phoned Bruce that evening. Not to confess my sins, but to seek comfort. I was sharply rebuffed. Bruce had a meeting and had to work late with the firm's partners. Bruce is a lawyer, a brilliant one. He has occupied a lot of press attention recently thanks to an extremely complex case he'd won. I thought he sounded worried, distant; but Bruce and I had always been fairly 'detached'. Even though we were engaged, we did not live together. I slept long, but dreamt little. Logan's face and that adrenaline rush I felt when I saw him blanketed my mind. The following morning police were pounding at my door. Bruce was dead. I felt wintry cold as a pain like no other stabbed at my heart from all directions. Dead? The police said that they were sorry. They couldn't have been as sorry as I was. Ever. The killer was still out there. Continuing with his normal mediocre life whilst Bruce was gone, forever. ...read more.

Conclusion

It was him. He was the loathsome creature that killed Bruce. My manic behaviour took control and my logic was numb. An overwhelming slap threw me onto my back in disgrace. My insides screaming with horror and repulsion, whilst power and terror pumped through my veins. "How could you do this to me? What have I ever done to deserve your twisted friendship?" As I bowed my head down towards hell, I saw a gun under the armchair. I no longer sensed fear. Not from him or anyone else. Quickly I reached under the bed, brought it up, and aimed it at the putrid scars my lover had marked Logan with He attempted to throw a fist towards me, but just toppled forward, as I released all the pain and churning inside of me. I pulled the trigger back. Then it was over. This twisted love had jumped me with the same fear and ecstasy as if a robber to a helpless child. But I was caged within these thoughts. My trembling hand raised the gun to my head and history repeated itself. After my short-lived rage and torture, the world was as good as gone. Some people are scared of death, but for me... life was as terrifying as any hell could be. English Victoria Anderson. 10P Page 1 ...read more.

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