You've been ordered to kill someone you've fallen in love with. How did you get into this situation? What will you do next?

You ponder, walking down the dark streets on a cold Saturday night, quietly following your targeted victim. You searched your memories, remembering nothing but what the big boss had said to you.

"Go follow him, and when you get the chance, give him his finishing blow. By dawn tomorrow, if you don't come back with his head in your hands, you're the one who's going to be hanging on that wall with the others."

You shook your head in confusion, turning a corner as your victim did as well.

Your quiet footsteps made no sound, and you could only hear the wind howling, and your victim humming a bright tune. Too bright for the misfortune that was about to happen.

You felt terrible, to end this persons life. The guilt was rushing all throughout your veins.

"Excuse me, sir," You say, walking up to him, making him flinch slightly before turning around and looking at you with a smile that shone like the sun.

"It's quite dangerous to be walking in this alleyway so late at night," You continued, feeling your heart now not only pound with guilt, but also with happiness. Why, why was that?

"Oh, that's true, maybe you'd like to accompany me then?" he hummed as happy as could be.

You nodded, not being able to help but think he was a little too gullible, and asked where he was going at such an hour.

"To the beach, it's really beautiful and quiet so late at night," he replied, beginning to skip as he walked towards his destination.

Once you arrived, you were amazed by the sight.

The quiet sounds of waves crashing along with the marvelous shades of blue and purple with small white dots scattering the sky made it almost impossible to do what you set out for.

The two of you sat together, listening to the quiet sounds as you contemplated why, why you had such feelings for someone you just met, and are about to kill.

But something about what and how the big boss said, not even the punishment for not completing the task, but just the way you had been commanded to take this innocent life, let you eventually make up your mind.

After scouting your surroundings one last time, as silent as your steps, you pulled out your knife and brought it to his throat, before whispering an "I love you," and making a swift, clean cut.

You looked down at the red liquid on your hands, at your stained clothing, at the cold metal in your hands, before looking at the dying body, at how he was starting to go limp, how he was losing heat so, so quickly.

With terror, you looked into his eyes. You didn't see the rage, fury, or disbelief you expected on his face. You saw a warm, gentle smile, as he reached out, and gently stroked your cheek with his stone cold hands, and mumbled those three words back, before collapsing into your lap.