As if on cue, he entered the room, his heavy fotosteps heard before his tall, scruffy frame was seen. "James, come with me." He pulled a chain saw from behind his back and our worst fears were confirmed. "Please, Charlie. Just let us be together." I held you closer, afraid to lose you. All I wanted to do was show him that he was not the one I loved; you were. We had been certain of that since before the day he caught us together.

But still, two years after he had caught us, he was finally going to succumb to his jealous rage by mutilating your slender body. "I would never want to kill either of you," he had told me once. "I would just want to make you suffer for the rest of your lives, to let you know how I will feel for the rest of my life."

He grasped you by the hand, and you threw me one last nervous glance, and mouthed the words, "I love you." Not one minute after he left with you, I heard your screams and the whizzing of the chain saw, a combination of sounds that continued for the next five minutes.

Finally, he came out, blood spattered on his otherwise clean, white t-shirt and on the goggles surrounding his dark brown eyes. He was wearing the smile of a maniac, and was laughing with the pitches of a hyenna. "Just wanted to let you know I took off his legs. He'll be out for another week, don't worry." Just then, the sounds of pounding filled my ears, as a SWAT team arrested him and took you out to the ambulence.

I rushed over to the gurney that you were placed on, your torso now ending at your hips, which were covered in bandages. I took your hand in mine, and whispered in your ear "you'll be okay," but it was an action unnoticed to your comatose brain. Eventually, they took you away in the ambulence, and said it was amazing you were still alive. But I didn't notice; my own sobs were blocking out all of reality.