"Please don't do this." I begged, as tears streamed down my face, making my mascara run. My eyes traveled from his face, that handsome boyish face, down to the floor. Down to the dead bodies. "Oh God," I choked, my life flashing before my eyes, as I felt his fingers slip from my shoulders down to the knife. He put it to my throat gently, so that he didn't cut it. Yet. "I'm sorry." He muttered. "Please...." I begged. "Please." His lips pressed against mine, and I shuddered against him. Dear God, Please don't let this happen. This is the story of how I met him. The story of how he stole my heart, just as carelessly as he stole peoples lives away from them. Maybe. Maybe not. When I think about it, I still smile. Even though I know the sad and terrible ending, I can't help but smile. He was my best friend. He was so loving. So caring. He taught me everything. But, he also destroyed everything. He was just like that. He was just the mass murder that loved me, and that's how I'll always remember him. I dare say, that's how I'll always cherish him.