KILL BOUT YOU: "SKITTLE"

The puppy's name was Skittle—no S, just Skittle—and she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Black and tan fur soft as velvet, eyes like dark chocolate, and a personality that seemed to embody pure joy. She was supposed to be a gift for my girlfriend Katrina, a symbol of our love and our shared future. Instead, she became the catalyst for a chain of events that would destroy multiple lives and prove that some wounds never heal—they just fester in the darkness until they become something monstrous.

But that's getting ahead of the story. The real story begins fifteen years later, on a sweltering Miami morning when I stood over my cousin's corpse and felt nothing but satisfaction.

You see, I killed Alonzo Duncan—though everyone called him Crimes—on a Tuesday night outside a cheap motel, and I've spent the months since then watching two innocent people get convicted for my crime. It's been the most satisfying experience of my life.

But I'm getting ahead of myself again. Let me start at the beginning, with the phone call that gave me the perfect opportunity to finally get the revenge I'd been planning for fifteen years.