When person A loves person B," he began, "person A gets upset at the thought of never seeing person B again."
He meant me.
He meant he loved me.
But now I knew that love was a poisonous thing. It had turned me into a murderer. I would die with my secret before I would tell.
"It's better that way," I lied, "because person B doesn't love person A back.

Auteur: Cherie Bennett