“You are so beautiful.”  He looked down at the woman of his heart with love and admiration.  A tear ran down her face, and he brushed it away with a gentle stroke of his hand.

“Sh sh sh…” he whispered in her ear.  “Be still my love.”  He ran his fingers through her long black hair, the smell of sweet perfume hanging in the air.  She looked up at him with pleading eyes and he couldn’t help but smile. She was beautiful, and oh but she adored him so.

“I promised that I would love you always.”  He stroked her cheek with tender care.  “No matter what.  Now, at long last, I can prove my love for you.”

The glint of his knife sparkled in the old abandoned apartment, his face haggard and stark in the shadows of the night.  Tears streamed down her face as she fought in vain the ropes that bound her to the chair.  Trying to scream, all she could manage were choking sobs and gasps for air.

“You thought me vane.”  His voice was sad.

She continued to struggle, and he sensed her unease.  “Oh, but you misunderstand me, my love.  I mean you no harm.  I wish only to prove my love for you.”  His voice took on a tone of reassurance.  The blade inched closer to her face.  “Now you’ll see.  I care nothing of looks.”  The tip of the knife pricked her skin.

She kicked and thrashed, but her retraints refused to oblige.  cold steel dug in deep, and howls filled the room as it sliced through skin and flesh.

He set his weapon down on the floor and touched a fingertip to her lacerated cheek.  He beamed down at her, wrapper her in his arms as she shook.  “You see now how looks mean nothing to me.”  He bent down and lightly kissed her sweaty forehead.  She closed her eyes and cried.