Love that Burns, Passion that kills

The man she buried is back and knocking, drenched from head to toe, his long black hair shining through the midnight sky. He was looking to the ground as if to hide the bloodlust reflecting from his pupils. I didn’t know whether to call her or wait until he left. As I stared at the video monitor waiting for him to try the backdoor or send a rock through our window, It was difficult to not be in awe of how he managed to survive her wrath. My sister was never a violent being, but one human can only be pushed so far. Through the monotonous sharp tapping coming from the door down the hall, flashbacks start to invade my mind one by one. The accusation, the argument, the pushing. Nobody was prepared for what happened next...