I lay bloodied on the cold hardwoods of the biggest mansion I'd ever seen. I'd never felt more desolate. Never felt the heartbreak that was shattering my very soul. I wasn't sure how I let this escalate. I didn't believe I had done anything wrong. I suppose that didn't matter to him. He didn't need a rhyme or a reason. It wouldn't change his intentions. Does he regret what he did? Does a psychopath even feel anything at all? Did he feel anything for me?

As I felt the cold blade impaling my chest, I felt my eyes droop, as my humanity faded further away. So, this is what dying felt like. In my 19 years on this planet, I would've never thought this would be my fate. Is this what my father would have wanted? After all, he is the same as him.

Do I have regrets? Absolutely. Would I change anything from the past year? Never.