31. Theron

31

THERON

ALWAYS BEEN YOU - CHRIS GREY

For the sake of my sanity, I have to remove myself from the room. I need a moment to cool down and regain composure. Because I'm not confident Nyssa won't try to escape, I have to restrain her to the bed. It'll only be for a short period.

A few hours at most.

I'm in the middle of locking my office door when Dean Rothenberg appears, dripping every bit of his usual arrogance. "Theron, I was just talking about you with Veronica. She was on campus to discuss her father's latest donations."

"Why would I care?" I shove my ring of keys into my pants pocket and start down the opposite way of the corridor.

Unfortunately, Rothenberg follows like an attention-starved little puppy I can't shake.

"Well, you know," he says. "Your history, of course. Shame you two couldn't work it out."

"Yeah, real shame."

"Theron, listen, between the two of us, there have been some rumors circulating." The dean lowers his voice with a glance to our left and right as we walk the corridor.

The halls have begun thinning out so late in the afternoon. The last batch of classes are in the process of wrapping up and most students are eager to escape campus and begin their weekends. I pretend I'm more preoccupied with starting mine in the same vein while the dean blathers on.

"Are you going to tell me what sort of rumors, or do you expect me to guess?"

"I'm sure you can imagine. Castlebury's no stranger to scandal. This whole Valentine Killer ordeal has everyone extra sensitive to anything amiss. I've heard some rumblings about you."

"If this is about the questioning with the police?—"

"The police are investigating Samson Wicker's disappearance," he interjects, holding up both hands. "I understand that. They've interviewed me and several other professors. Students as well."

That's not the only reason they were interviewing me, but go on…

"I'm talking about the rumors about student-teacher relations. I've had someone anonymously reach out and mention there is inappropriate conduct between you and Miss Nyssa Oliver."

I cut him a sideways glance, the severity in my glare making him stutter.

"W-Well, it's none of my concern what consenting adults do. Lord knows there have been a few college-aged cuties I've had my fun with. But discretion is the key, Theron," he says hastily, cracking me a toothy smile. "You never bring it to campus. You never bring it to any professional setting. Particularly with your history and the weirdness of what happened before. Josalyn Webber and Professor Vise?—"

"I have places to be, Dean. Is there anything of actual importance you wanted to discuss?"

We've reached the end of the corridor, which opens up into the faculty parking lot. We've turned to face each other with the dean deciding to fumble with his pocket watch to check the time.

"I hope you know it's not malicious, Theron. I stopped you to warn you. Not dredge up the past."

"Yet that's exactly what you did. Good evening, Dean." I turn away to head off and then stop when a thought strikes me. It's not my blue BMW XI that pushes the thought into my head, but instead, it's the familiar little ruby-red convertible parked across the lot. "Veronica… where is she?"

Dean Rothenberg frowns. "I'm not sure. She was only here to visit me. She must've made another stop afterward if she's still on campus."

She's making another stop, alright.

The exact place she shouldn't be.

Tension lances through my jaw as I clench my keys in my fist and rush past the imbecilic dean.

I'm on a race against the clock, cutting down the same corridors I just walked moments ago. I leap down a short stack of stone steps and shove aside two jocks guffawing about some ‘rager' later tonight.

Veronica is more or less harmless… until she believes something poses a threat to our relationship.

Once, when I broke up with her, she broke the living room window in my house and then claimed it must've been a burglary. On another occasion in between a failed round of our relationship, she called me to rescue her from a kitchen fire.

But, to my knowledge, she's never hurt anyone.

"She wouldn't," I pant under my breath as I sprint down the corridor toward my office.

And yet as I come up on the unlocked door, I'm not so sure.

My footsteps slow up and quiet down the closer I make it to the door leading to the hidden room.

It's cracked open.

Just enough for me to press my eye against the crevice and see for myself what's going on.

Veronica has slid aside the glass wall and started toward Nyssa on the bed. But that's not the most alarming part of what's about to happen—clenched in one hand is a knife that she's raised into the air.

"How much clearer can I get, Nyssa? Nothing and no one's going to take Theron from me. Most of all you. If I have to eliminate you myself, then so be it."

"Come near me and I'm going to smack the shit out of you!" Nyssa yells defiantly, though I see the hesitancy in her eyes.

She's aware she's at a disadvantage due to the chain.

Veronica ignores her and advances anyway.

"Silly girl getting in the middle of things she doesn't understand. Your fault you'll have to pay the price now—ahhh!"

I've abandoned the doorway to stop Veronica myself.

The knife's snatched out of her hands and as she spins around in shock. I grab hold of her by the throat. Her eyes bulge at the sight of me, and she sputters out protesting words that go ignored. I grit my teeth at her and bring her up against the limestone wall, tightening my grip around her throat until she's clawing at my hands.

"Theron!" she chokes out. "Theron! "

But I only squeeze harder.

"What do you think you were about to do, Veronica?" I snarl in her face, savoring the desperate gasps for air she gives. The way she squirms and drags her nails into my flesh. "Did you think you were going to hurt Nyssa? How dare you!"

The harder she tries to fight, the tighter I clench her throat. The more her lungs give out, losing air.

I can't bring myself to let go. I've fallen prey to the dark impulse that drives me to continue, to eliminate a problem that's only grown more threatening over time. If Veronica lives, she won't stop. She won't give up on our failed relationship.

She'll try again.

She always has.

This is not just for myself. This is for Nyssa .

Like everything I do has begun to be for her.

Veronica's fight fades as the seconds go on and she depletes what's left of her energy. Soon she's merely squirming, and then her eyelids are growing heavy. She loses consciousness for what may be the last time.

I let go and step back, allowing her to slump to the floor.

It's then that the present moment returns. That I'm suddenly aware of the fact that I'm not alone in the room.

Nyssa's still on the bed, chained to the iron frame, gaping like she's never seen me before. But the look on her face reads more ambiguous than anything. As if, once again, she's conflicted over how to feel.

She's at war with herself.

"I had no idea she'd show up," I say, half breathless from the physical force I've used. I gesture to Veronica's unconscious body. "She must've been following me or keeping tabs."

Nyssa blinks and opens and closes her mouth a few more times. "She… she told me she's been sabotaging us. She's the one who broke my sculpture and the potted plant outside my door. She took photos of us together. She told Heather about the library. It was her who called the police the night you and Samson fought."

"That… that fills a lot of holes left. I suppose she's the one who's spread rumors to the dean."

"Is she… dead?"

"Just about." I kneel beside her and check her weak pulse. Then I glance up at Nyssa. "You understand why I've done what I have, don't you? She was about to hurt you. She wouldn't have gone away. She'd try again."

"What are you going to do?"

I pause for another second. "I have to get rid of her. There's no choice now."

"Theron," she whispers with a shake of her head. "Please let me go."

"Soon. Very soon. But now this has come up. I'll return once it's handled."

Grabbing Veronica by the ankles, I drag her toward the other end of the room. Luckily, I still have the large trunk I'd borrowed from Nyssa the night I dumped Samson Wicker's body. If it fit an oaf of his size, it'll easily fit Veronica.

I sigh as I head out to my car to grab the trunk. "The things I do for love. Perhaps I am insane."

It's late into the night before I'm done in the forest surrounding the school grounds. I toss the shovel in the back of my BMW and run a hand through my already slick hair. Veronica's joined the collection of others buried in the forest and won't be posing any issues in the future. I'll have to work at making up a story for her sudden disappearance.

Perhaps she ran off to Europe with some boy-toy type.

It's on my mind during my entire drive home, where I shower and dress in what's become a uniform of mine over the years—a white button down shirt and dark gray slacks.

Nyssa's been alone for hours and I intend on making up for it. Besides, there's still several matters we need to address and get to the bottom of.

I still owe her so many truths. So many things I have to tell her to convince her I'm not the man she thinks I am.

Sure, it seems incriminating from her point of view. No less than a couple hours ago, I strangled someone before her eyes. I've kept her captive. I'm sure from her perspective, I seem insane and dangerous.

She deserves to learn the truth. But she also must pay for some of the little antics she pulled. Including trying to manipulate me earlier.

"Miss Oliver, how have you been resting?" I ask upon returning.

I find her lying despondently on the bed, curled up with her gaze on the limestone wall to her right. I'd assume she were asleep if not for the blink of her eye that I catch.

She doesn't bother giving me an answer.

"We can do things the hard way or the easy way. But either way, you'll be punished. You simply decide the extent. Will you behave yourself?"

No response.

I set down the satchel I've brought with me on the desk. "Very well. Tonight is as good as any to continue our play."

Nyssa's stare is rapt and unblinking, watching every move of mine almost as if we're adversaries. I unsnap the leather flap on the front and begin pulling out the items I've brought with me. The first I set down is the familiar bottle of silicone-based lube.

Then the blindfold.

And then the paddle.

Other items join the first few, like the vibrator she's become acquainted with, three different sized butt plugs, a pair of nipple clamps, and lastly, a ball gag.

All items I may or may not use tonight, depending on the moment and where it takes us.

"On your belly, Miss Oliver. You know what to do."

Nyssa disobeys me. She remains as she is, glaring harshly at me like we're enemies.

She's angry and frustrated. Perhaps still convinced I'm Valentine.

Fair enough.

I haven't done my due diligence to convince her. Yet as I strangled Veronica before her eyes, she hardly uttered a peep. Not a single protest as I came to her rescue and eliminated another person posing a threat to her.

Pretend as she might that I'm an abhorrent monster, some part of her can't help being drawn to me. Deep down, she knows the truth. She feels the same about me as I do her.

On some level, Nyssa wants to be mine.

She wouldn't have worked for my approval if she didn't. At the first sign of my intense infatuation, she would've run scared and never looked back.

But she's stayed.

She's sought me out herself.

This is just another obstacle of our relationship. A bump in the road we'll get through together, coming out the other side triumphant and closer than ever.

I'm sure of this as I approach the bed with measured footsteps and an unyielding gaze. Though she's the one chained to the bed, I'm the one caught in her trance. I'm just as much of a prisoner as she is, unable to do the right thing and let go of her.

I couldn't walk away any sooner than I could stop breathing and survive.

Both are intrinsically one and the same.

I kneel before Nyssa and caress her cheek, bringing her face close to mine. Our lips brush in a slow tease, my tongue slipping out to trace a quick outline of her mouth. My fingers travel to her curls, and I bask in how we're so close and the room's so quiet.

I can hear her breathing. The soft, stilted little breaths she's drawing in then pushing out.

There's an intimacy about it. Something erotic about listening to the sound of her breathing, a second away from making her mine all over again.

But she denies me.

As I go to swipe at her mouth a second time with my tongue, she turns her head away.

My fingers clench in her curls, and I snap it right back.

Roughly. Dominantly.

An immediate reminder I'm in control and she's yet to be punished.

I crush my lips to hers, the kiss harsh and forceful. My tongue plunges into her mouth to pillage and plunder, taking what I want from her. I'm savoring the sweet taste of her and the addictive supple feel of her lips.

Nyssa grips my shoulder with her free hand as if hoping to push me back .

But she doesn't. Her fingers clench into the fabric of my shirt and she parts her lips wider . She releases a throaty moan that awakens a possessive instinct inside me and makes me grip her tighter. I kiss her even deeper, establishing that she's mine and mine only.

My hands undo the buttons on her blouse. My mouth explores the slender column that's her throat. I push down the straps of her bra and roughly grope her breasts once they're free. She throws her head back at the sharp tweak I give her nipples.

I play with her breasts just enough to make her tremble against me.

Just enough to have her panting for more, nipples puffy and erect.

"I believe you heard me the first time," I say, drawing back for a warning glare. "Get on your fucking belly, Miss Oliver. Now."

The cold, severe tone snaps her into action. She lifts her legs onto the bed and shifts her body until she's on her hands and knees. Her right arm remains beholden to the leather cuff chained to the bed post.

It takes a little more maneuvering before she's able to lower herself flat on her stomach, propped up by her elbows.

I let the stillness settle in the air, seconds going by. My gaze roves over her slowly and appreciatively, adding my hand to glide down her bare back. Her skin is smooth and luminescent, inexplicably erotic as my palm charts a path to the little dip at the base of her spine.

Nyssa's closed her eyes. Her lips remain slightly parted, like she's secretly enjoying this as much as I am.

If I know my favorite student like I think I do, she is.

"This goes how you want it to go, Miss Oliver," I say sternly, taking on the same authoritative tone I use in the classroom. I rise up onto my feet and reach over her. My hands slip under her to unbutton the front of her skirt, and then I tug it down her hips and thighs. Her panties meet the same fate, discarded somewhere in the distance once I've pulled them off her.

Nyssa Oliver lays before me beautifully naked.

My mouth waters at how perfect and round her bare ass is. I'm tempted to sink my teeth into the curvy flesh and go to town.

Eat her out like she's never been eaten out before.

'Til she's withering and coming, and I'm throbbing from a painfully hard dick.

But I tamp down on the urges and focus on what must come first.

"I must say, Miss Oliver, you look so erotic like this. It's a very big turn on. First things first." I roll up my sleeves to the elbow and turn toward the desk. It's as I do that I sense her sneaking a glance. She's curious what I'm going for. My hands enclose on the medium butt plug and the bottle of lube.

When I turn back toward the bed, I can sense her wariness. She's done well any time we've done anal play, though I know it's not her favorite.

Tonight isn't about pleasuring Nyssa. Tonight is about getting her to see reason. Making her understand the truth and the inescapable reality that she's mine.

We belong together.

"You must really think I'm a monster, don't you?" I ask, uncapping the lube bottle with a snick. I squirt the lube into the palm of my hand and then begin working it all over. It becomes an impromptu sensuous massage as I spread it along the tiny puckered hole, between her ass cheeks and pussy.

She's slick and sopping wet by the time I'm through.

Though not all of it is lube.

My fingers graze her pussy, and I find some moisture there that's entirely self-lubrication.

Nyssa's already turned on. She bites down on her bottom lip when I let my thumb rub against her clit. I travel back up toward her puckered hole, slipping my thumb inside there instead. She turns her head to the other side as if to mask her reaction.

But it doesn't matter—I feel her body shudder even at the merest intrusion.

"You might like this more than you let on, Miss Oliver. You've had the medium before. Let's see how you do having it in you during more intense play. Remember the safe word. You speak it, it stops. But at what costs? Are you willing to lose?"

"I… I don't… I never lose," she huffs out stubbornly.

"Good girl." I lean forward to press my lips to the back of her bare shoulder. "But don't forget to breathe. This will still be a lot to take."

Holding the silicone butt plug in hand, I begin pressing it against her tight little entrance. It's tapered in shape, with a special feature that I haven't yet used, though I will tonight.

Nyssa groans at the feel of it. Her body tenses up and she bites into the pillow she's propped up on. I hold her still, one hand on her lower back, the other easing the plug into her rear puckered hole.

The tight ring of muscle widens to allow the tip in. I pour some more lube and slick another inch in. The muscle gives way to let it in, swallowing up the silicone toy 'til it's deeply embedded inside her.

Arousal courses through me. My cock twitches in my pants.

Just the erotic sight of watching it disappear into her is enough to make me hard. Admiring how the handle of the plug sticks out between her ass cheeks is enough to make me come.

I'm practicing discipline, keeping composure. Instead, I squeeze an ass cheek and bow my head to kiss the other.

"How does that feel, Miss Oliver? Too much?"

"Would it matter?" she asks breathily. "I'm not quitting, and you're not stopping. So what does it matter if it is?"

"Very mouthy of you. Are you angry with me?" I ask in mocking.

Her expression tightens, eyes opening for a glare. "You can play these games all you like. I still want nothing to do with you after this. If you think I'll forgive you for being Valentine, you're mistaken."

Anger shoots through me as quickly as arousal had. I clench my jaw and grip the bottle of lube so hard in my hand it would shatter if made of glass. Nyssa's pushing my buttons; she's intentionally trying to rile me up.

Almost as if she wants me to unleash myself on her. She craves it.

"Up on your hands and knees," I command, pivoting toward the desk. "Now. No talking."

Nyssa obeys with the petulance of a child. Again, a strategy of hers where she makes it known she's pissed off and hates me.

It doesn't really matter. I'm more than happy to dole out some punishment.

Two more items are retrieved from the desk. Before Nyssa can glance to see what they are, I'm covering her eyes with one of them.

The leather mask that takes away her sight. She flinches as I pull it over her, clearly startled by yet another disadvantage working against her.

The other item is the paddle that she brought to Jackson Wicker's that night.

I beat it against the palm of my hand as I pace back and forth in front of the bed.

"There's so much you don't know, Miss Oliver," I say in deep thought. "Where to even begin?"

"It doesn't matter. Nothing you can say changes anything!"

SMACK!

I swat the wooden paddle hard against the curve of her ass in warning. She jerks in place, surprised by the sudden reprimand.

"Didn't I tell you no talking?" I ask, pacing some more. I stop to go for a second blow, swatting the paddle into her backside. She releases a shaky breath in answer. "This isn't the time for you to speak. This is the time for you to listen .

"I should've known from the first time I ever saw you—the day of the year one orientation—that there was something different about you. I suppose I did know in a way. There was a reason I couldn't throw away that damn note. Some reason I stayed to chat when I saw you at the art festival. But that was nothing compared to what came after. I followed you home."

I give her another harsh spank with the wooden paddle, enjoying how she sways in place. How the plug entrenched in her ass remains firmly planted inside.

"I had to," I say. "Samson Wicker was trouble, and you didn't seem to grasp how much. Do you know what kind of rumors follow him and his friends? Are you aware I overheard him speaking about you? I couldn't let him be anywhere near you."

"It wasn't your place!" she snaps.

SMACK!

I slam the paddle into her ass once more, then double and triple back for extra emphasis. She deserves all the discomfort that's coming to her if she can't obey simple rules. The wooden paddle is hard and punishing as it collides against her supple brown flesh and streaks it faintly red.

Yet her pussy lips glisten. Her thighs quake. She's biting down on her bottom lip to keep from blurting anything else out. But also to keep from moaning.

I can practically feel the sound of pleasure bottled up inside her.

I step forward and fondle her pussy as yet another means of torture.

"But I have to be honest, Miss Oliver," I say composedly, despite how hard I am. My pulse pounds away in my ears and blood has engorged my cock. A weaker man would've come already. "Once I started keeping an eye on you, I realized a few things. I realized that you were an exquisite young woman and I couldn't stay away from you. It was wrong in every sense of the word. Yet I was invading your life more and more.

"I snuck into your apartment when you were gone. I monitored your online activities. Read your text messages and put a tracker on you so I knew where you were. Nights I turned up suddenly—when I gave you a ride home and bludgeoned Wicker—were intentional. They were no accidents. But don't you understand why I was doing what I was doing? "

"You're Valentine," she mutters under her breath.

I respond with another swat of the paddle. My palm falls to the curve of her ass. The same spot I've just struck a blow and left streaked red. "If I were Valentine, I would've gotten rid of you a long time ago. You know it deep down. Tell me you do."

She shakes her head side to side.

I forget about the paddle, letting it clunk on the floor. My hand returns to her pussy, rubbing her little clit and then pushing two fingers deep inside her.

Her jaw drops open and she shudders out a breath.

"Tell me, Miss Oliver," I whisper, bending over her. I nip at the side of her face and work my fingers inside her just the way she likes. Her pussy walls are soft and slick, pulsing against my touch as I go slow and torture her. "Tell me you know what I do. You can't stay away from me any more than I can stay away from you."

"No…" she pants. "No…"

"Yes," I say, my tone dark and authoritative. "Yes, Miss Oliver. It's true, isn't it? You sought me out because your heart called to mine. You set up each and every victim to be slain. You wanted me to do it."

"NO!"

"YES!" I bark, tilting her face toward me for a rough kiss on the lips. "Face it. If I'm Valentine, so are you."

Nyssa shudders as I begin twisting the plug inside her. I stuff my slick fingers into her mouth and make her taste herself. She moans around them, licking and suckling away. Her body's a quivering, dewy instrument of pleasure as I tease and torture her beyond what she's ever conceived.

I reach into my pocket and press the button on the remote to the plug. A vibration starts from deep inside her rear tunnel, drawing yet another visceral reaction out of her. Her spine bows as the tremors rock through her in intense fashion.

"Does that feel good?" I whisper, biting her jaw. I kiss her mouth and then return my fingers to her soaked cunt.

I can feel the vibration.

"Fuck," I groan. "It must feel very good, doesn't it? You want me to turn it up?"

Nyssa whimpers in answer, clenching around my fingers like it's my cock. She's right on the edge of coming. She's reached the point where she can no longer intelligibly respond, so I decide for her—I dial up the vibrating sensation to the second highest setting and watch it rack through her beautifully naked body.

My fingers toy with her pussy. Arousal coats them as I pump them deep, curling them until I'm pressing on the little ridged button inside. Her G-spot being stimulated is the final straw for her. Nyssa comes undone as soon as it's touched, her pussy rippling in a warm wet wave.

I pull my fingers to find them more drenched than ever.

She didn't just come. She squirted .

A new level of primal, possessive need is awakened. It unleashes itself, consuming me whole. Suddenly, all discipline washes away. My cock jerks against the constraints of my pants, desperate to be inside Nyssa.

I undo my pants in a flurry and hike Nyssa's hips back toward me.

The handle of the plug stares up at me, vibrating like the rest of the toy wedged inside her.

"Fuck… yes…" I growl, giving it another tug to her whimper. My grip's bruising on her hips as I coat myself in her juices and warn her of what's to come. "Breathe, Miss Oliver. You're about to be fuller than you've ever been in your life. The question is, can you take it? "

With no further warning or preparation, I slide deep into her soaking wet cunt. The clench of her and vibration of the plug hits me all at once. I half topple over her, so thrown by the intensity of sensations slamming into me that it takes me a moment to adjust.

Planting a hand on the bed beside her, my eyes snap shut and blood pulses and throbs in my veins.

I'm buried in her pussy as it draws me in deeper. All while I feel a vibration against the thin wall separating her pussy from her ass.

"This is…" I pant, dizzy from how good it feels. "This is so fucking good. You feel so fucking incredible."

Somehow, I find the strength to recenter myself. I hold off the orgasm already welling up inside me.

I raise up and draw back my hips enough for my cock to slide out, then I slam forward. Nyssa collapses at the brutal thrust, falling face first into the pillow. Her hips rise to meet me. I grope them and slap her ass.

I watch transfixed as my cock disappears into her glistening wet pussy and the handle of the butt plug quakes from the vibration. Her flesh jiggles too, after I slam a hand into her ass a few more times and piston my hips forward.

Quickly, I'm picking up a pace that's rough and merciless. My thrusts come one after another, sinking deep into the wet heat of her pussy. Then retreating until I'm at the head, about to drive back in, then bottoming out.

Nyssa muffles her screams into the pillow.

Her cunt flutters tightly around me. My cock rubs against the vibrating plug with every deep stroke. Every pulse shoots straight through my cock and then the rest of my body. I grit my teeth and fuck her harder, fighting through the orgasm that inches ever closer.

Anger and frustration fuse with lust and possession .

I'm furious with her. Enraged she'd ever think I was Valentine. That I could hurt not only Josalyn but hurt her .

All dark emotions that are purged with every punishing stroke I give her. The smacks of my palm and rough twists of her nipples.

I tangle my fingers in her curls and use my grip to force her up against my chest. I'm panting as I grind into her and suck at her jaw.

Nyssa whimpers, shuddering in my hold. She reaches behind us to grip the hair on the nape of my neck and turns her head to meet me in a hot, passionate kiss.

We've become animals fucking with no other thought in our heads except the pleasure that drives us.

Her pussy clamps down on my cock. Another orgasm overtakes her.

I hold her through the deep quakes that pass through her body. She practically goes slack in my arms, yet I don't slow down.

As she folds forward, half out of it, I pick up the pace and pound harder.

The vibrator buzzes away, torturing us both. My cock twitches in warning before I bury myself and unload deep inside her. We collapse together in a heap, sheened by sweat, pleasure spasming through us.

My vision becomes double everything. Easily the most intense orgasm of my life.

My whole body feels the aftereffects in the moments to come. I lift myself off Nyssa with aching limbs that feel as if they've been through a war. Considering everything we've done tonight, it's a fair assessment.

But even through the haze of my orgasm, I remember to focus on her.

I gently roll her over and carefully remove the vibrating plug and leather blindfold. She's dripping with evidence from our encounter. Sweat and cum, yet she's never looked more beautiful to me. Caressing her cheek, I place a kiss on her brow.

"Would you like me to clean you up?"

Nyssa peers into my eyes with a yearning that I've recognized many times. Sincere longing for me that's real no matter what she says.

Then she snuffs it out. She blinks again and then turns her head away from me.

"Don't touch me," she says coldly. "Don't you ever touch me again."

"Nyssa—"

"I told you it wouldn't change anything. You're Valentine. You killed my mother and I'll never forgive you."

The tenderness I'd shown her disappears for my equally cold mask. I rise from the bed and begin dressing.

She'll never believe me… unless she knows the whole truth.

As ugly, hideous, morbid as it is.

"Alright," I say. "Suit yourself. It's your choice to refute the truth. I've told you I was never the Valentine Killer. But if you must know, I'll tell you who was. You look just like her."