TAKE NOTE:

DO NOT read this unless you have read "Killer Romance" or played the game, as this is the second book in the series.

To all of you who have read KR, thank you so much! I hope you enjoy the sequel. This story has been amazing to write, and I can't wait to share it with you.

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It was never meant to continue.

But stories don't always have endings.

All you ever wanted was to be loved. Deep down, you had an inner passion for lust. You wanted someone to be affectionate and sincere towards you. Sadly, you weren't allowed to experience that. Your fate was to fall in love with the one that would end up to be your worst enemy.

"How did he get in your house?"

The officer, Officer Joe, sat in front of you, clipboard in hand. He had his cleaned uniform on, but his shoes were covered in mud. He tapped the pen in his left hand on the board over and over again as a sigh escaped his lips. Occasionally, the tapping would seize and become dead noise, allowing your ears to ring, but you didn't like that high-pitched sound at all.

"I let him in."

You sat across from the officer, looking down with your hands together in your lap and your knees plastered together. After weeks of wearing a hospital gown, you were finally allowed to put on some normal clothes. They weren't thick, so you were kind of cold in the metallic, air-conditioned room. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

Joe looked south at his clipboard again and scratched his head before jotting something down. He stopped mid-sentence and looked back up at you.

"Can you explain further," he mumbled, tapping the pen again, "on what he did."

This was the first time you were interrogated. Surprisingly, no one came to the hospital to question you. You were left alone to dwell on your experience for a month. Maybe they wanted you to forget about the traumatic issues or even the entire ordeal. You didn't trust police officers, so who would know what types of tricks they play behind the curtains?

You glanced over at the camera in the corner of the room and sighed. You didn't exactly want to be there any longer.

"I trusted him," you muttered.

As the words came out of your mouth, your mind was filled with memories of the good times, the ones where you were happy and completely oblivious to the world.

"I didn't think he would-"

You stopped your sentence when your eyes sagged and you felt a wall of sadness hit your face. It was as strong a feeling as what a bull feels towards the color red when provoked. Too bad bulls don't actually like the color. It's just the act put on by the trainer that gives that appearance.

"Okay," Joe sighed as he readjusted his position in the chair. "I think that's enough for today."

He stood up and clicked the pen before attaching it to the clipboard. You nodded slightly and looked up at him with a pitiful glance.

"You gave us a description earlier... Well, two, actually," he announced while shuffling through a couple papers on the desk. He pulled a thick pile out of a large stack and held up one sheet.

It was a drawing of Jeff, but his hair was too chestnut and his eyes were too blue. Or maybe you lost your sense of color with him? He seemed to make everything so... dull. Anyways, you knew that they couldn't catch him with such an absurdly abstract picture.

"That isn't right," you said, quickly shutting your mouth before you said anything else. You just wanted to go home.

"Oh, yes... Well, we wanted to know if this was something you saw in a dream or on the TV." The officer put down the picture before he sat again in his squeaky leather chair.

"What are you talking about?" you asked. "He's just a normal looking person."

But he wasn't. He was attractive to you, and you knew it. He didn't look like anyone else on the street. If he had, then you would've ran for your life at the sight of them. Good thing the only place to spot anyone with the same features of that devil was the doghouse. And you didn't plan on going anywhere near that place any time soon, and you didn't intend on finding a wild animal on your doorstep the day of release.

Joe slammed his hand down on the desk, silencing you. "This is not something to joke about!"

You didn't even say anything. You weren't joking. You weren't in denial, and you weren't lying.

"Next time we meet, I need you to be completely honest with me. We're only concerned about your mental state," he explained.

His eyes tore through your skull and left a harsh aura in his place. He stood up and sped out of the room, telling other officers to get you out.

You were driven home by a woman from the homeless shelter. She brought you things you needed, which included more food, drinks, toiletries, and medicine. She explained that she installed a security system and better locks for your doors and windows, though this still didn't make you feel completely safe.

You walked inside with the woman and she carried everything for you in large grocery bags. You had a cast over your arm and a splint on your shoulder, so you couldn't help out much. They were going to be taken off the next day anyway, so you didn't stress.

It's funny how your arm wasn't even broken.

After a while, the lady gave you instructions from the hospital. You were to get to bed early every night and take your medicine as often as possible. While she was explaining everything to you, a question appeared in your mind.

"How did I pay for this? What about the hospital bill?" you asked, slowly standing up from the couch that lingered in the now vacant living room.

The woman smiled at you and tilted her head. "Oh, a nice, young boy paid for it."

You froze. You were so startled and you swore you could hear your own heartbeat as you stared at the woman who was still giving you an exuberant expression.

"He said he was related to you in some way... Brown hair, blue eyes... Oh, and he was always wearing this white jacket," she mumbled as she danced around and finished putting food in the fridge.

"W-What was his name?" you asked, still locked in an icy chain of fear.

"He never told me. I usually found him sitting outside the hospital and sometimes outside your house..."

You shook your head violently.

The woman popped her head around the corner. "Well, I finished up so I'm gonna go," she cheerfully declared as she looked through her purse and pulled out a palm-sized, black object.

She explained, "This is like a pager. Just press this button here, and it'll notify the police and hospital of an emergency." She held it out to you and pointed to a disguised, black button on the side.

You reluctantly took it in your hand, silently waving her out the door.

"My phone number's on the counter. Call me if you need me," she exclaimed as she pulled the door shut.

You crumbled to the floor.

What if Jeff found you? What if that boy was Jeff? It probably was... Who else fits the description? How did he even get through the police? You described him perfectly to them. Wait... But they didn't have the right image.

There was no way you would get any sleep. It was already nighttime and you were wide awake. In fact, you didn't sleep for the next week. An hour here or there, but you found it to be extremely difficult.

The worst type of fear is knowing that something is going to happen, but being clueless about when. It's like a jack-in-the-box. It goes on and on and on, and it eventually pops, but it's always unexpected. That is... until you memorize the little tune.

After you got your cast off, it was easier for you to complete tasks and chores. One night, when you couldn't fall asleep, you decided to clean up a bit in the kitchen. It was going well until you heard a bang on the window.

You jumped back and scrambled to get behind the counter, which was out of view from the glass. You looked around the corner and saw that it had seemingly opened itself. You pulled a knife from the block before approaching the window. Slowly closing in the distance, you felt eyes running through it, so you quickly slammed it into place and locked the little latch on the side.

You paced back and forth on the floor, not knowing what to do. You looked all around the house, checking to make sure that no one was inside and all the windows and doors were closed and locked. You spent the least amount of time in your room... It creeped you out the most.

At midnight, you heard the clock chime throughout the house and echo off of every bare wall. It was at this moment that you creeped over to the front window and moved the blinds out of the way, looking into the darkness of your street.

Standing under the light across the pavement was someone you didn't want to see.

First, you saw the shadow that chases you in your dreams, always being one step ahead, present around every corner of every maze.

Next, you saw the scratched up shoes, wrinkled, black pants, and the bloody, white jacket that reminds you of the shadow that fooled you.

Finally, you saw the large, bloody smile, and the darkened, soulless eyes, covered by the broken, black hair; all of which made you shake.

Jeff stared back at you as you stumbled backwards and fell onto your butt. The knife slipped out of your hands and danced across the floor. You gazed at the antagonist standing there, just leaning against the pole.

You blinked.

He bolted towards you.