The knife had told him so. He had found his Purpose in life. A Purpose he was good at it. And better yet, he liked it. His attention was drawn back to...the bloody, abused girl in his hands. He carried her by the throat back through the door and down the rickety basement steps. Her fingers were digging into his hands, nails drawing bloody furrows, her bare feet were kicking at his legs. He didn’t feel it. All he felt was the pull of attraction to the knife. The pull to the power, the omnipotence. . the details were a little fuzzy.I remember that it had started with Sasha's admission that she'd never loved Rod. Having witnessed the parallels of her break-up with him and Dawn's break-up with me, I couldn't help but wonder aloud if Dawn had ever truly loved ME. Parental notions of soulmates aside, we had grown up together and fallen in love together and come to depend on each other to always be there. I knew -I- had always loved Dawn; but now I had to seriously question whether or not she. More

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