❝ I'm supposed to kill you. It's My job. My purpose. And you're supposed to kill me too! I can't understand why I can't do it! Merda! ❞ I cried as the cold piece of metal dropped from my hands with a clatter.
❝ Amore mio. It's because you love me and I love you too. ❞ Lorenzo replied in a voice that was no louder than a whisper.
The whole situation was rather refreshing in a way. In my corrupt world of guns and drugs and violence, our love was ironically perfectly imperfect.
I was supposed to assassinate him because he was an enemy and it was what I was assigned to do. The worst part of it all was that he knew that he had to kill me too.
So what were the chances of us both killing ourselves over a love that was never meant to happen?
His love consumed me. Loving him signed my very own death signature; like an addictive drug, it killed me slowly because our love became...
The Death Of Me