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The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, the candles flickering softly on the rosewood nightstand, casting a warm, amber glow across the room. Emily lay on her back, eyes closed, her petite body gently rising and falling with each breath. Beside her, her fiancee, Henry, pressed his lips to her forehead, his strong, capable hands tracing gentle circles on her supple skin. The soft rustle of the sheets mingled with their quiet whispers, as they spoke of their plans for the future, their voices low and intimate.
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But then, a sudden and inexplicable chill crept up Emily's spine. She shivered, and Henry, sensing her discomfort, pulled her closer, wrapping his arms tightly around her. It was then, just as they shared this moment of quiet intimacy, that the door was knocked. The sound seemed to echo throughout the room, ringing loudly in their ears. They exchanged glances, their eyes wide with surprise and uncertainty.
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Henry slowly stood up, his hands still on Emily's shoulders, as if he were afraid to let go of her. He walked over to the door, peering through the peephole. His expression turned pale when he saw who was standing on the other side. It was Darren, their past lover. Henry's heart sank as he turned around, his eyes filled with fear and despair. "It's Darren," he whispered hoarsely.
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Emily's eyes widened in shock, and she struggled to stand up, her movements slow and sluggish. Darren, however, was already pushing the door open with force. He strode into the room, a knife gleaming in his hand. Henry tried to step in front of Emily, but Darren was too quick. He grabbed Henry by the hair, forcing him to the floor, and tied his hands tightly behind his back with a strip of cloth.
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Darren laughed maniacally as he surveyed the scene before him. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with venom. "Look what we have here." He knelt down beside Emily, running his fingers through her silky hair, his face contorting into a twisted mask of rage and lust. "You really thought you could just leave me, huh?" He lifted the knife above her, the blade glinting in the candlelight. "Well, you're about to find out that you made a big mistake."
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Henry struggled against the ropes binding his wrists, but they only cut deeper into his skin. Tears streamed down his face as he watched in horror as Darren slowly began to carve into Emily's delicate flesh. He screamed and cursed, pleading with Darren to stop, but the words seemed to slide off the other man's cold, hard exterior.
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"Oh, don't worry," Darren crooned, his voice cold and calculated. "I'm not going to kill her... not yet." He pressed the knife harder into Emily's side, drawing a line of blood across her once-perfect skin. She screamed in agony, her body arching off the bed. Darren leaned in close, his breath hot against her neck. "But I think it's time for a little payback, don't you?"
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