My heart was still beating.
I thought I would have died the same day; under the debris of my car covered in blood, my hand locked into hers… Instead no!
I was still alive maybe because my devilish side was stronger than my mortal one, or maybe because hell wasn’t ready to welcome me yet. I had experienced death a thousand times, and I had always overcome it. Even now, I felt as if I had once again experienced the icy flames of hell.
I didn’t remember immediately what had happened, but slowly I put the pieces together in my mind, and everything was clear.
The infection by now had spread throughout my body, and I had taken control of my mortal side confusing and inebriating myself.
My story is written in blood.
I think I will never be forgiven for what I did because I, for first, can’t forgive myself. I’m sure you think I’m a disgusting person; a psycho killer. And you are right because I am this kind of person and even more. But everything I have done has brought me to a crossroad between hell and paradise, and now I know for sure which path I want to take.
Don’t judge me; just listen.
My story doesn’t certainly narrate pity and compassion, but now I know how little of my past belongs to me. I realized too late the true meaning of the word ‘love’ and, perhaps, now there is no more hope for me.
Allow me, the child of Death, to tell you my story.
Allow me to tell you how I sold my soul to the devil, just to be with her.