'I love you as certain dark things are to be loved. In secret, between the shadow and the soul.'

Carol... now he was not all he seemed to be. No, he was much, much more. And not in a particularly good way. He hid things. He hid stuff from his ardour. Stuff that he wouldn't want anyone to know. Like the shack, he used to visit. He used to take a little blade with him to the deep woods. The night. He loved the night. In the heart of the woods. There was this moss dense tree growing around the breaking shack. He called it the house. No one likes to say 'shack'. It's so damn dull. House is okay. It was always damp. Just the way he hated it. So he would go in there, close the door behind him and stand there breathing the musty dark inside. He would take out the blade and make an incision on the side of his abdomen. And he would lather his index finger with the pulsating blood and write on the wall of the shack. He would write a name. About two months later, he would come back and rewrite using the same means. On the dried and flaky first. 'What name?' I hear you ask. Well, that's simple. He wrote- 'HATHWAY'. No, that's not the second name of his ardour. Her second name is Stone. He wrote 'Hathway' cause he loathed Hathway. Nope, wrong guess. I'm not Hathway either. And neither is Carol himself. Hathway is just the person who...

Well I got carried away.

Carol was what his ardour called him. He was given the name of Carlos. And he did things that were not so nice. That includes his job. He was paid to kill people who kill other people. And those words might be ambiguous. He killed the poets. Not the regular ones... the actual poets. We'll get to them in a while. Was he a good guy?

I don't believe so. Cause killing is a heinous deed. I wouldn't dream of it. His ardour knew that he worked as a writer. Writing articles for journals. His journal and public journals. There were tons of loopholes but as I said... killing is an ambiguous term. A term used in tergiversation.

Tergiversation- Falsification by means of vague or ambiguous language.

But lying to her... her... her...

Gods, I cant tell you how much he loved her. I cant because I don't know how to. But that was before she was killed, of course. She was killed because she had killed someone else. He was paid to kill people who kill people.

He loved her more than...more than...

Is love stronger than death is? I hope so, but...

I cant tell you the truth in that.