I fell in love, and there was nothing wrong with that. There should be nothing wrong with that. It was the kind of love that I was least expecting; and that I was not looking for.

It gave me butterflies each time he looked at me; I would blush whenever he would praise me; and everything slowed down when I was with him.

It felt so right to be with him, and yet there came a time that I knew I needed to leave—I needed to leave him. No matter how much I wanted to stay, I knew I could not. I knew I should not.

I feared for my own life.

The man whom I used to think was perfect in every angle and in every way had changed into someone I would have never imagined he would be. He was not the man I fell in love with. He was not the man who had saved me from my abuser. He was not the kind man who brought back light into my life and the smile on my face. He was not the gentle man who made my heart flutter with his words and made me believe that love could treat me right.

There was blood in his hands; there had always been blood in them. I had watched him clean it off with warm water as it mixed with the crimson and then get flushed down the drain. The very same hands that touched me, embraced me, and provided warmth for me.

I had witnessed him remove those gloves and dispose of them in the trash with those dull eyes that were drained out of life. They used to shine, and I would always get lost in them.

I admired the way he would put on his white robe over his broad shoulders and let it hang around his body for hours on end. It made me proud how respected he was in everywhere he went, and how people would only ever talk about the good things he had done, and how good of a person he was in general.

But the same robe and person were tainted with red and sin and crime.

His skilled hands became a threat. His beautiful words turned dark. His eyes grew cold. The tools he used to save numerous lives with had also taken some.

And it was all because of me.

It was all for me.

I fell in love, and there was nothing wrong with that.

But this love was twisted.

This love was dark.

This love was lethal.

I knew it should end. I knew I should leave.

But how could I ever?

I loved him so much that it drove me crazy.