This feeling he had deep inside. The misery of believing....or rather.. of knowning what he did. She was dead now, he thought as he cracked an egg on the stove. He loved her, and now she was dead. His own jealousy had induced a rage that turned him into something...a monster. He couldn't remember all that much, only that it felt like looking through someone elses eyes. Thinking with someone elses brain. Feeling with someone elses hands. The power he felt as he held her throat tightly, and watched her eyes look back into his with horror. She loved him, or so he thought she did. When he walked into the room, there she was waiting for him. And then HE came out of the bathroom in only a towel. It wasn't what it looked like, She had screamed. Really? He thought back at the sight and gave a little sigh. He stood at the stove and stared at his hands, and watched the egg burn in the pan. Death stood only a few feet from him, and here he was trying to eat. He turned off the stove and walked back into the room where the dead lovers lay. He kicked at the limp figure of a man on the floor, and then walked to her and kissed her cheek. She wasn't cold yet, he wondered when she would turn cold. He shivered as he reached for the phone. Should he turn himself in, he wondered. Surely a neighbor had heard the noise of death. Pain that felt like glass invading his skin began to envelope him. He fell the floor, as he heard neighbors voices enter the house. They must have a key, he thought. He began to cry, as he became once more what he was before she gave him his final wish. He watched as the neighbors entered the room. He walked over, the younger neighbor let him lick her hand...He sniffed at her and left the room. A thud is heard, and he turns around. The sight was too much to bear for the older one, a heartattack reached through his soul and snatched his life away. He turned away, and ran out the open door...in search of one last wish.