The dame was a bona fide knockout, even had the papers and all proving as much.  There wasn't an inch on her body that wasn't desired by every sane man, and there wasn't a thought in the room of sixty guests that didn't relate to her.  Most likely, this was because she was lying dead in the middle of the floor.  As it was, no one was having a good time, with the possible exception of McGuinness, that sadistic bastard that just sat there, chomping on his carrots with a sweaty grin.  Nobody knew this party was just a stage but me.  I was the one who invited the gusts, I was the one who decided on the music, and I am the one who murdered Kristen DeWitt, in front of sixty witnesses.  Of course, I didn't know it was my fiancé I was poisoning at the time, but I have always been made a fool by the world and its trappings.  Santiago had hit me where I never imagined he could, and I will never forgive either of us for what happened.  The only acceptable thing to do in such circumstances was to roll my one love up in the carpet, which was as crimson as the blood that had stopped flowing through her toxic veins.  I knocked that stinking carrot out of McGuinness's mouth, then took my poisoned angel into my room, where she still sleeps.  I never went back there after that night.  Ever since, I have been a warrior, of the nomadic sort- a rogue hunter.  And I will never rest until I lay Santiago down to sleep, along with all the other scum indirectly responsible for turning me into what I most despise.  A killer.

THE END