"Then go ahead and kill yourself." She had a sudden thought, and as she looked into his eyes, she suddenly believed he truly loved her. "If you love me, go do it. Kill yourself."
"Do you really want me dead?"
Without hesitation, she responded: "Yes, I want you dead."
Maxwell Palmer turned on the light, and its glow made his eyes shine brightly: "Eliza, you can't bear to see me dead."
He was so certain of it.
He was always like this, able to see through others, to play mind games with ease. Cunning, sinister, and vicious, he was such a bad person.
Eliza Morgan gripped the fruit knife tightly and stabbed it into his abdomen, her fingers quickly covered in blood that was warm to the touch.
She looked up at him, wanting to see the pain on his face.
But he didn't even furrow his brow: "Eliza, a wound this shallow won't kill anyone."
The blood dripped onto the air-conditioned quilt, spreading rapidly through the satin fabric.