Obsession

"To those who have ever felt pressured, taken advantage of, used, and abused. This is for you..."

Track Zero:(Prelude)

Her skin is moist from the sweat making her glisten. Her pupils dilate with eyes wide open, legs wide open. She clenches her jaw and gnashes her teeth as he holds her down, penetrating her. Her thighs squeeze his hips and her nails dig into his chest, drawing blood, exciting his desire. He grunts and moans in such pleasure as she screams and moans at his fervorous effort. She shuts her eyes tightly as he releases, thrusting harder into her. Sweat and blood mix on his broad back and she lays motionless on the purple satin sheets. After such a long while, he had finished and she was reeling. He gets up off her and takes a smoke in front of the mirror across from the bed, looking, searching, seeing nothing and no one there. Now the scent of sex and cigarettes fills the air in a sort of bitter aroma. He looks back at her briefly; she's still in a state of shock, to say the least. He takes his clothes and leaves the room.

This is not a love story.

OBSESSION

Track One: With No Dignity

She waits until she knows that he is gone. Disgusted with herself, she arises and slowly walks her darkened room to the bathroom across the hall to wash away the night. She sits in her tub as the water rains down on her, her bright red hair darkening. She's still, head in her knees, toes curled and hands gripping her shins. Her slender fingers slowly slide up into her hair grasping her head, tears stream down her eyes. Hours go by and she remains still, the water now cold, she feels nothing. Her cell phone rings loudly from the other room. She turns off the water and grabs a towel from the outside of the shower door. Slowly she walks into the other room and picks up the blaring phone. It's her best friend, Angela, Asking how her date had gone with her road manager.

When she doesn't answer, Angela asks with concern, "Rosalind, what did he do to you?" Still, the shaken star has no words. She sits on a chair in the living room, staring into the doorway of her room, silently, with eyes tightly shut to hold in tears and lips pursed to keep the truth from slipping out because it was too painful. "Rosalind? You still there?" Angela urges, "Rose!? He hurt you didn't he, that fucking sick bastard. I knew it! I told you to fire him." Rose gasps and sobs, still saying nothing. "Dammit Rose, just tell me!" Her loving friend insists arduously. "He fucking raped me! Is that what you want to hear!? Damn you Angie, why do you have to push so much even when you know.." she sobs, "When you fucking know already. Shit.. I'm sorry, I should've..." Angela cuts in, "No Rose, shh, don't. I'm sorry. Do you need me to come over?" Rose continues on, "I should've listened to you, you were right. All Je-- all he-- wanted was to-- I should've seen it. They way he always looked at me, and he was always trying to walk into my dressing room backstage or in my trailer. He was such a creep! I should've seen it, but I'm so stupid, I'm just so--" she sobs. Angela sighs, "Honey, you're not stupid. You just... Sometimes you don't listen too well and you're too nice. You think the best of people." Rose stands up and walks out to the balcony and stares into the nightlife of the city, "Well, not anymore, Angie."

Glasses shine in the city lights from a black convertible parked across from a tall hotel building. Short, slick-back, black hair shines in the headlights of passing cars on the man responsible for Rosalind's tears and pain. He ponders on what he'd just done, how good it felt, and how he must have her. He craves her more than anything, yearning for her to be his and no one else's. His eyes are sharp and open wide, sort of crazed-looking and shaky. He grips his steering wheel in anxiety and reaches down into his pocket to grab his cell-phone and takes it in hand. He flips it open and scrolls through his contacts, thinking if he should call her. He purses his lips briefly and presses on the SEND button. "Hello, mother. I'm coming home." He pauses to listen, then continues, "No. No, I'll tell you after I get there. I'm in the city tonight, so I'll be there soon." She says something indistinctly. He replies, "Yeah, no, I uh, I had some things and you know, the concert. I was lucky this weekend to have been able to book something in my home town. But I'll let you go, gotta drive. Love you mom. See ya in a bit." He hangs up before she could say anything back and drives off into the night.

Angela drives into the parking lot of the tall hotel building. The night is young and cold, colder than most. A crescent moon is struggling to be seen through a threatening storm cloud and the stars are completely erased from the sky. She closes the door to her car after stepping out and chirps the alarm to secure her ride. As she walks to the entrance she notices a black convertible drive off from across the street. "Was that..?" She spoke to herself. She shook it off and proceeded into the large hotel lobby to the check-in desk. "Rage Rose's suite. I'm a visitor. Her best friend, actually." The clerk says nothing, not believing her. "Okay, Rosalind Ramos. Or Rose Ramos, either way, I know i need to talk to your dumb-ass before I even think of getting mine up there. So just let me go." The clerk simply says, "Can't do that." She retorts, "God damn it, I'll fucking call her." Angela pulls her phone from her purse and calls Rosalind, "Can you tell this flaming idiot that I'm really your childhood friend and not a stupid fan?" She hands the clerk the phone and Rosalind tells him to let Angela up. "Sorry, miss. But it's my j--" Angela rudely interrupts the clerk, "Yeah, yeah go fuck yourself, okay? Okay, thanks." She walks away, throwing her middle finger up behind her.

Angela knocks on Rosalind's door to no answer. She stops and thinks, How did our secret knock go? "Right!" she says and knocks on the door in a specific beat. Two-three-one-three-one-one-four. Rosalind shot up out of her seat by the sliding doors to the balcony hearing her and Angela's secret knock that they had come up with as kids for their old, "Rock Princesses" club where they were the only two members. She opens the door to Angela's hands displaying the club sign. "Rock Princesses forever." They both say smiling. Angela walks in and takes a stroll around the place, "Pretty ritzy for a hotel room. Hell, it’s more like an apartment, living room and everything. How much do you pay for this thing?" Rosalind sighs and sits on the same chair by the sliding doors, watching the rain fall, "I don't..." a hint of sorrow in her husky voice. "Right... umm..." Angela takes a chair and sits in front of her. "Tell me, Rose, what happened?" She says in a soft and concerned tone that only Rosalind will ever hear from her. Rosalind's gaze does not stray from the rain outside. "Rose?" Angela takes her hand. "It started out nice..." Rosalind says, "Dinner at a nice restaurant. I've never been to one... We sat in the park and then walked around for a bit. He was so quiet though, always just staring." She shivered a little. Angela went into the bedroom and found some unused sheets to wrap Rosalind in. "Here, you're cold. Let's wrap you up." She says with a smile, throwing the blanket around Rosalind. "The look in his eyes was a little unsettling. It was like, like he wanted to take something from me, like he... He frightened me. And when we got back here..." She bites her lower lip and her eyes begin to tear. She hesitates, "He poured some wine.. and he must've put something in it or whatever, because I was feeling weird afterwards, like woozy. Then, next thing I knew..." She began to sob, "He was on top of me. I-I thought he was someone else at first, I thought it was a dream. I was still woozy so he looked like my ex so i didn't immediately push him of or try to fight, but then I came to and saw him on top of me, fucking me! I clawed at his back and pulled his hair and tried to push him off but he was too strong! I-I couldn't do anything!" She began to cry heavily. Angela jumped out of her chair and wrapped her arms around her. "Shh, baby.. It's okay, you're okay Rosie baby. What have I always told you? What have I always said? When terrible people do terrible things--" Rosalind completes the saying, "Terrible consequences come to the terrible people." Angela cradles Rosalind on the floor, stroking her hair, "Yes, that's right. So no worries, sweetie, cause he's gonna get what’s coming to him and he's gonna get it good. I promise you that."

Track Two: Unknown Avenger

The death of such a man that never loved a day in life, was mourned by none but one and that was not her. The one that had been hurt by his cruelty rejoiced as silently as the arid nights in the barren wastelands. She cries at his funeral but not of sorrow or emptiness, but of joy knowing he is gone and will never ever hurt her again. The sun is high shining brightly in the sky for it’s a new day for the girl broken beautifully, now healing. "Finally, I'm free." She says as she walks away with a smile on her face. But it doesn't last, the media won't let it pass. On the way to her car she's bombarded by reporters coming from all around asking questions about her abuser's murder and if she had anything to do with it. She just gets inside her car, slams the door and drives away home.

At home she sits down and thinks of all that she's been put through and all the pain he's caused. Angela drops by unannounced to check on her best friend, "Rosalind, are you there? I heard the news and came to see how you're doing. Open the door, please." The door creaks open slowly to reveal Rosalind's misery filled eyes, "Angela? Why are you here? Did anyone follow you to this place?" Angela looks back behind her and thinks before saying, "No, Rose. Now please let me in. Why so glum?" She walks into Rosalind's domain and sits down inviting her friend to join her. She looks into Rosalind's as she walks to the couch and sits by her side. Angela's smile fades as Rosalind sighs and says, "I don't know why, but I can't seem to be happy with his death. It seems like there's something left unsaid or undone between us. I can't shake this feeling like he's still here lingering around. Haunting me." Angela bites her bottom lip and sharply gets up to walk into the kitchen, "I thought you'd be happy. I mean, that bastard got what was coming to him." She turns to Rosalind, "Dammit Rose, why can't you ever be fucking happy for once? Especially when something happens-- Just tell me why you feel like that, okay? I-- I want to know." She shakes her irritation and takes a drink of water. Rosalind is taken by surprise by Angela's reaction, "Ange... I-- I can’t explain it. I'm sorry I can't be happy, but I don't think you understand. You've never been through what I went through. It's like, I feel like since it wasn't me, you know, that "ended" the whole ordeal, that like, he's still here, in my head just toying with me still and sometimes I can't take it cause I still feel him." Angela sighs and sits back down beside Rosalind and takes her hand, "I'm here for you, sweetie, if you need me. For anything. I'm just a call away. Hell, if you want, I'll stay here with you while you get back on your feet and start being that kick-ass fucking rock star we all know and love again." Rosalind faintly smiles in a way, recognizing Angela's subtle insinuations. Angela smiles and stares into Rosalind's eyes with a certain feeling of contentment with a hint of contempt. She's conflicted with herself due to the decisions she had recently made that changed her and Rosalind's lives forever.

Days later, the police come to Rosalind's doorstep, interrupting her compositions. She gets up from her piano seat and on the way to the door she turns to Angela and states, "Can't you get the door?" Angela shrugs and continues devouring her pork fried rice and egg rolls. Rosalind rolls her eyes and opens the door. "Miss Rosalind Ramos, better known as Rage Rose?" inquires the officer at her door. Rosalind sort of glares a bit, "Uhh.. Yeah, that's me. What's this about?" The officer continues with slight patronization, "We're conducting an investigation of the disappearance and murder of one Jean D'Blanchfleur, your former road manager. I understand that he had assaulted you in some way." Rosalind interrupts disgusted with what the officer had implied, "Whoa, whoa hold on. Are you saying that you think I may have had something to do with it?" The officer retorts, "Ma'am, we're just going through routine investigation of a list of possible susp--" Rosalind interrupts again, "Listen, cut the "ma'am" shit okay. I'm not even in my mid twenties. I've been through enough and I don't need some damn cop harassing me, listing me as a possible suspect! Are you kidding me? I wasn't even there! I was in my hotel room, sitting in the shower after a show and another fucking "assault" by him, as you so lightly put it. So please do me a favor and fuck off!" The officer sneered and clenched his teeth, "Okay, alright. You made your point. But your best friend Angela E. Figueroa wasn't accounted for that night. Is she around?"

At that moment, Rosalind's eyes widened as she remembered Angela's reaction to her displeasure of the untimely, yet well deserved death of one Jean D'Blanchfleur. And for a single split-second, the thought of her best friend as a murderer crossed her mind, No... she later thought as she contemplated lying to the good officer and paused before saying, "Uhh.. Angie? I believe she's indisposed; she hasn't called me since last night. If she wasn't busy she would've called and, or, dropped by. So, right now I don't know where she is." The officer didn't believe her but sympathised and didn't push the subject, "Alright, Miss Ramos. Just here," He pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and takes a card out, "it's my card. Take it, and if you have any problems at all, you can call that number there and I'll be on my way. And that there's my name," He points, "Dante L'Juste." Rosalind takes the card and slightly smiles, "Okay, Officer L'Juste. Will do." She briefly stares into his clear blue eyes. He looks at her and says, "Okay, well then I'll be off. Guess I'll see you around. Good-bye, Miss Ramos." She snaps out of her space-out, "Oh, yeah. Bye Officer L'Juste." She waves nervously as she steps back inside, slamming the door. Angela looks at her with a mouth full of rice and ready for more, "What was that all about?" Rosalind opens her eyes wide in anger and anxiety, "That was the fucking cops! Dude, did you do something to make them think you killed Je-- you know what..? No," she sighs, "This is ridiculous." She plops down next to Angela and takes a bite out of an egg roll. "Hey that was mine!" Angela pouts. "Tough cookies, Angie. What the hell am I going to do with you? You've always been such trouble." Says Rosalind exasperated. Angela retorts with adorability, "Yeah, but you love me!" They look at each other and laugh a little.

That night, after Rosalind had fallen asleep, Angela gets up out of bed slowly enough to not disturb Rosalind. She walks on the balls of her delicate, pretty, pale feet quietly out to the back porch on the other side of the house. Crickets chirp as the moon light shines on Angela's white skin. She gazes out to the moon, "Oh God, why? I shouldn't have done that. I was only thinking of Rose, I wanted to make her happy. What that bastard did to her was unforgivable." She sighs and looks down. Inside, she hears her cell phone ring, "Oh shit! That's gonna wake her up!" She quietly rushes back in and through the house to the kitchen where she had left it. She answers it, "Not now, she's sleeping!" She urges quietly, "No. No, she doesn't. I, uh.. Just stay low okay, I don't want the cops finding you. They came here today looking for me." There's indistinct chatter on the other line, "Shit. Tonio, just.. I don't know, try to get out of town or something." She listens, "I know, I know. Umm.. How about I meet you next week on Tuesday night. Wait, are you calling me from ma's house?" The line goes silent, "Hello? Tonio, damn it, I know you're still there. Tuesday night, at Hollow's Eve Park. By the big ass dead tree. Bye." She hangs up. "Fuck, that kid's going to mess everything up." Angela tightens her fist in frustration and turns off her phone.

Track Three: The Fall

The next morning, Rosalind wakes to the beautiful sight of her best friend's open and snoring mouth, in a sort of mangled spread eagle position. She sighs and softly remarks, "Well that’s elegant." Angela snorts and she smirks amusedly getting up to walk into the kitchen for some orange juice and a quick toaster treat. Reaching for a glass, her shirt rises too high and a neighbor unexpectedly glanced into her window, seeing too much of her. Rosalind realised and quickly pulled her shirt down and buttoned it shut completely embarrassed. The neighbor was a teenage boy whose face had turned very red from the sight and something may have come up for he quickly shuffled into his home. She rubs her face forcefully with slight frustration and takes a glass quickly before anyone else sees anything else.

Angela wakes up and walks into the kitchen in nothing but a pair of red and white boy shorts, "Mmm, let me steal a bite." She takes one of Rosalind's toaster treats and bites into it, then sips her orange juice. Rosalind looks at her as if she's just committed a horrible crime, "Seriously? Couldn't you have gotten your own?" Angela looks at her for a moment, "Maybe. But yours looked so delicious I couldn't help it. Besides, sharing is caring." Rosalind pursed her lips and glared a little saying nothing as Angela smiled wide grabbing her own cup noticing the same teenage boy noticing her bare breasts as he turns a greater shade of red and runs into his house saying, "I'm staying inside for the rest of the day." Angela laughs a little and says, "I think your neighbor likes us." Rosalind giggles and sips her orange juice.

Flashbacks and nightmares all through her mind, as the murder scene haunts her with images of blood and blades dancing in elation. Smiles on her face as the life drains away from the monster that killed her. Now he falls down deep into the darkness never to be seen again. She opens her eyes with a sigh of disgust wondering and pondering as to why these pictures plague her mind night after night. It's been a week and two days to the hour and sleep now eludes her for guilt she feels is hers to own. "Why, oh, why do I feel like this? And why in the world do I dream like that? Was it... no it couldn't that’s just insane." She walks outside and looks to the moon, "But maybe, just maybe It could have been--" A shot in the dark can be heard in the distance, it shook her and took the words from her lips.

Later that night Angela sneaks out to the park to wait by the dead tree whose limbs stretched out like a man in agony to meet her brother about a secret so dark. As time passed by, Angela's patience growing thin and she wonders what had come of him. "Where the hell is my idiot brother? He's almost an hour late. Where could he be?" She looks and searches around for traces and lo and behold she finds a trail of blood on the ground, the green stained red leading towards a tree even bigger than the one dead. More ominous this grew and thoughts fill her head. Above drips blood from a figure in the dark hung high from what looks like guitar strings. "Oh, my god... Tonio... No..." It was her brother strung high in the tree cut open and dismembered. In horror she turns away with tears running for her life, fearing that close by is the one whom killed her brother. No time to think or feel any more pain that she does now, she needs to get back home. "What have I done? I sent him to his death. I should have never told him to come. Now he's dead, and it's all my fault. I might as well have killed him myself!"

In despair she throws herself aside Rosalind's sleeping body. She cries trying to keep herself silent as to not disturb her best friend's sleep. But for nothing, Rosalind awakens and sees her friend so distraught, "What's wrong, my dear, why do you cry?" Angela does not answer her, "You can tell me, I'm your best friend." Angela looks at her with eyes so red and full of sorrow, "Rose, it's my brother. He.. He's been murdered. I don't know how or why or when he was just hanging there from a tree at Hollow's Eve! Bleeding and missing his fingers. Oh, my god, what am I going to tell my mom? This is all just so fucked up!" Rosalind is shocked and saddened by this revelation, she cannot speak or even think of what to say to make her trusted friend feel any bit better. "There is nothing, my dear, that I can say to make this pain go away. Just know that in time, you'll learn to deal with the loss you now feel. It's terrible I know this, but now there's nothing we can do. Just call the cops and tell them, so that Tonio can have the proper burial he deserves." Angela buries her face in Rosalind's chest and the night lingers on.

Track Four: Ghosts

The ones we loved and those deplored have gone away to a world where forgotten they will never be, for in death we are immortal, forever locked in the hearts and minds of those whom loved us and their generations to come. There are times when immortality takes shape and form in shame of the life lived or in anguish and despair, even in hatred and anger. Such are the haunts in the hearts and lives of the few unfortunate enough to feel the extreme emotion of these figures draped in white. Even so only seen by thoughts wracked in guilt beckoning the question of if they indeed exist or are we merely insane from the guilt and pain. And in this we find one enveloped in such guilt on the bathroom floor in the night with only a waning gibbous to cast light onto her figure and the crimson on the floor mixed with hard liquor and tears. Her dark shape in a position expressing such despair to what had happened, huddling over the flooded bathtub whose water is tinged red. Ripples on it's surface from teardrops, "This is my fault..."

The piano sings through the fingertips of Rosalind as her voice fills the humble home with hope and love, slightly tainted with cynicism and sorrow like the beautiful howling of a hopeful wolf in anguish and loneliness. Angela awakens with a slight smile induced from Rosalind's song, "Beautiful." She lazily stumbles toward Rosalind and wraps her arms around her from behind and kisses her head, "I love your music, Rose, you're so talented." Rosalind looks back at her and sighs, "Too bad all these people want is Rage Rose and her HxC music. The moment my music changes I'll lose half my fan base." Angela purses her lips, "Well, you'll never lose your true fans like me. I'll do anything for you, you know that right Rose?" Rosalind smiles, "Yeah, I know."

The sun is bright on her dark clothes as they put him down inside the ground and roses descend upon the casket of the brutally mutilated man, followed by dirt. She cried silently, not losing her demeanor, and walked away to the other side of the cemetery where she is met with a tall figure in uniform with beautiful blue eyes that shine kindness and compassion. He didn't smile, for empathy filled him, "Miss Figueroa? Can I have a word with you? I understand that you must be bereft, but it is important." She said nothing but nodded, trying to keep from bursting. He continues, "My name is Dante, Dante L'Juste. And I've been investigating the murder of Jean D'Blanchefleur and now of your brother. I believe they may be tied in somehow." Her eyes widened and the tears dried, "How do you mean? I mean... Wha-- You're-- " she pauses, "Do you know who did it?" He looks at her curiously, "Not yet.. But I am working on it. Who ever did it must have known them both. The M.O. was the same: seemingly random attack, borderline psychotic, disembowelment, and dismemberment. And it seemed as though it was an ambush attack. Like if the killer waited for the victims, knowing where they would be ahead of time. Do you know anyone that may have known both of the victims?" Before answering him, she gulps and bites her lower lips anxiously, "I, uhh, no... Other than me or Rose.. I think one of the roadies might have. My brother did have back stage passes every show. And he tended to hang with some of the boys. You can possibly ask them some questions. Though, I wouldn't know where to find them." Dante clenches his jaw, "Well then, I'll see what I can scrounge up from that. I'm a pretty good detective, not so easily fooled. Anyway, call me if you have anymore information. Your friend has my card, and tell her I said hi. Please and thank you, Miss Figueroa. Sorry to have disturbed you in this moment of grief. Good day." And with that he leaves, vanishing in the glare of the sunlight as more tears fill her eyes.

"Why? Why did you do it? You killed me! Murderer!" Whispers and chants over and over a familiar voice from the grave, antagonizing and vindictive, plaguing her mind as she tries to sleep. Over and over they say the same words, growing ever louder and only for her. She tosses and turns and covers her head, but nothing she does can help her escape. She cries and screams and goes unheard, and the poor thing fights to no avail. Wracked with guilt and misery her subconscious is, not letting her get a moments rest. For what she's done there is no coming back, and it is this that she knows too well, as in her bed she suffers. She begins to sweat in her struggle with her subconscious, gripping her soft pillow tightly and shutting her eyes to see what is not there. The spirits she had damned had come to haunt her.

Day breaks and the sun shoots brightly into their eyes interrupting what may have played in their heads as dreams or nightmares. The sheets were scattered about and pillows thrown across the room. Both girls seemed to have had no luck with sleep. Both haunted by the past. Restless. Nightmares of the dead, returning for vengeance, or to torment more. Their eyes shoot open and dart towards each others'. Relief comes quickly after realization that they were just dreaming.

Track Five: Clandestine Separation

Tall and dark figure in the night, walking Hollow's Eve, searching for the truth. Not all is at it seems, someone is hiding something dirty underneath the carpet, covering all that is ugly and unpleasant. Blue eyes shine in the diminishing light from the waning crescent. The darkness is approaching, and fear will steal the hearts and wills of the truest men. Below, the Verde stained rouge glistens slightly and curiously as it should be dull. Coagulated crimson shines not, inducing inquiries from the mind of one stalked silently in the shadows. Lurking, something ominous in the near distance, no sound, no movement. Eyes fixated on the unsuspecting investigator, dangerous endeavoring to solve what should be kept clandestine and buried deep. Instincts unfurl and the blue shifts from one subject to another, leaving the crimson for the black behind. "I know that presence. It feels like..." His voice ceases as the shadow flees in realization. Pursuing relentlessly ‘til the shadow dissipates into a deeper black with no trace and no clues to back up a theory based in feeling. "Was that--? No, that's preposterous." Still, the blue eyed figure cannot shake the feeling of familiarity.

Thunder breaks through lightning's path sending a resonant clamour throughout the skies, forcing the two to jump forth from their rest with pounding hearts. Eyes wide and full of shock, the tremulous noise shook them to the bone, "Oh my shit, Rose! What the fuck was that? Sounded like a fucking bomb went off!" Rosalind catches her breath and gathers her wits as she looks around and then out the window to the violent storm outside, "Thunder. It was thunder! Wow, it looks like the seven seals out there. We need to find somewhere safe. If it was that loud, then the lightning must have struck close." The lightning filled the sky, falling with great fervor, inducing the most boisterous thunder the two have ever heard. The rain falls heavily and quickly as waterfalls after raging rapids, just as dangerous. Panic ensues in their hearts and minds, fogging all thought of where to go for safe haven. More lightning strikes all around Rosalind's little home, surrounding it with blinding light. Scared to death, they collapse in the very center of the abode and underneath the ebony grand piano. Angela hyperventilates, "Why's this happening!? Oh my Christ, are we going to die? We are! Fuck, I can't-- I-- I can't fucking-- Breathe!" Rosalind wraps her arms around Angela and holds her tightly, "No, sweetie, we're not going to die, you're going to be okay. Just try to breathe deep." Angela continues escalating, "I can't! It's-- I-- Oh my god-- I'm going to-- I'm gonna-- I'm gonna die!" Rosalind holds her tighter, "Listen! You are not going to die! We will get through this! Calm down damn it! Angie, stop it!" Rosalind strikes Angela sharply, "Stop, okay!?" Angela nods and begins to calm down, "Thank you. I-- I needed that. Rose, I--" A bolt of lightning strikes straight through the ceiling and down in front of Angela. She screams and passes out.

Images of death and despair, blood and gore, plague her mind as she rests in her state of fear grandiose. Guts spill of her fallen brother quickly replaced by the vision of Jean's throat being deeply slit from ear to ear to near decapitation after having his privates taken and fed to him and his fingers severed. Blood splattering across such a nightmare, forcing her pulse to pound rapidly and the blood to surge throughout. Eyes open largely and search about desperately for something normal, something familiar. Rosalind. She needs to see Rosalind to know all is well. "Rose! Rose! Please, be here... Rose! Where are you!?" She panics more unable to find her dear friend. She searches the entire house, only to find it is devoid of life. Outside, the storm rages on, but she must venture out to find her darling Rosalind, "Rose! Are you out here!? Rose!" She looks around as she is violently whipped with rain and nearly taken by the powerful gusts. Lightning strikes all around whilst she continues to search the grounds to no avail. Until she reaches the back of the house and sees Rosalind impaled on a tree branch, draped and displayed and missing her fingers, "Oh my god, Rose! No! You-- You can't be dead... not like this!" She breaks down and cries as lightning strikes Rosalind's body. Dante rushes to her and wraps his arms around her, "It's okay, Angie. You'll be fine. I have you." She sobs heavily, "She's dead! Rose... Oh my god. She's dead!" Dante holds her closer, "I know. I saw..." He pauses as she continues to sob, then says, "I saw you do it. You killed her. You killed Rose." Angela's eyes glisten and widen with shock and fear, "Wh--what!? I-- I didn't! I couldn't have! No, Rose was my best friend, I loved her! I could never kill her!" He retorts coldly, "But you did." Rosalind's body falls in front of her, charred and cut open. Rosalind's eyes open sharply, full of hatred and sorrow, "You killed me! Just like you killed your brother, and Jean!" Angela becomes even more frightened and screams as lightning strikes and the brightness allows not for sight.

"No!" Screams Angela as she awakes from her fear induced slumber. Rosalind's face is her first sight, "What's wrong? Angie, you're okay. The storm is over. You had me so worried." Angela trembles and breathes heavily, "Rose! Thank heavens you're alive. I-- I didn't... You're alive, it was all just a nightmare." A knock of three-three-six on Rosalind's door, "I wonder who that could be after a storm like that. Angie, stay here." She walks to the door as Angela calls out to her, "Don't! I-- Don't leave me, please?" Rosalind looks back with a smile, "I'm right here, love. Not going anywhere." She answers the door only to see Dante on the other end, "Officer L'Juste, this is a surprise. Why are you here?" He smiles politely, "I just came to check up on you girls. Make sure you're both okay." She smiles and says sweetly, "Awe, how kind of you. You care about us lil' ole girls." "Something like that. Listen, can I come in?" He says softly. She looks back at Angela, and then at him, "I don't see why not. You did come all this way just to see how we're doing." She opens the door wider as he steps in slowly, removing his mud stained shoes before fully entering her home to avoid tracking her lovely hardwood floors. "Thank you kindly." He says entering further, looking around. He notices a large burn on the ground in the music room next to the piano, then looks up, "Holy hell, that lightning just came straight down didn't it? That’s some luck." He looks around some more and sees Angela on the floor in the next room, seeming very frightened. Rosalind stepped into his side, "Yeah, but don't talk too much of it. Nearly killed Angie. Had me worried sick." He grimaces slightly, "I see. I'm sorry about that. It's no wonder she looks so damn scared over there. Poor thing, I feel bad for her. Lost her brother, now this." Rosalind sucks her teeth and exhales deeply, "Yeah. My poor Angie. I wish bad things didn't happen to her. Speaking of, have you found anything out?" He raises his eyebrows and sighs, looking over at her, "Not very much, no. Everyone had an alibi. It's just such a weird case. And the other night, I was investigating the scene of her brother's murder. I had this weird feeling i was being watched, and his blood is still wet. You’d think it'd be dried by now, and absorbed. Then the strangest thing happened," He paused as he looked over at Angela, "There was someone hiding in the darkness, I couldn't make out who it was, but they darted as soon as I noticed them. I couldn't keep up." Angela bit her lip and Rosalind crossed her arms.

Angela stands up slowly and weakly treads off to bed, burying her face in her pillow. Rosalind takes Dante's hand, "Look, all of this has been very hard on Angie. She's sensitive, and easily flustered, but she means well. She's a sweetheart, so if you suspect her, you can forget it. She'd never kill her own brother. And of course she wanted to kill Jean, but she wouldn't be able to go through with it. She panics. Please, leave her alone." Dante purses his lips and squints, "Alright. But if what you are telling me is a lie, I'll take you both in. Now, I don't want to do that, I like you. Both of you actually, but you, Rosalind, are something else. I hope for your sake, and hers, you're right." They look into each others' eyes searching for the right words to say to each other after all that's been said, but nothing comes. "Well," He says, "I have to go. I hope to see you soon, Miss Ramos, and not as a business call." He steps into his shoes and heads out the door, and with a wink he says, "Goodbye, then. For now." She smiles and responds, "Goodbye, Officer L'Juste. For now." The door closes. She slowly paces to her room, looking up at the gaping hole in the ceiling, thinking, That was so close... She lies in her bed next to Angela and holds her close, stroking her hair sweetly and planting a solitary, comforting kiss upon Angela's forehead. She gulps, "Don't you worry, love, I won't let anything happen to you. Everything will be okay, I promise you that, Sweetheart." I promise...

Track Six: No Loss Greater Than

For no reason, or perhaps for every imaginable, she sang softly below the gaping hole from the vicious lightning as the sun bathed her in warm light. Rosalind's voice was bitter, sad, and full of regret. Every high note choked in near tears and the lows a serene whisper seeming to be for only one to hear.

"And though it pained me so I had to/ Made it so damn hard to take it back, take it back/ I did it all for you, ignoring such agony inside/ My dear, how could you?/ Trusting in your words yet doubting the actions/ Hell the life I had to endure, but this is worse/ Could I ever take back what was wrought?/ Never again, never again/ You took advantage, of course it was my only chance at freedom/ The knife I hid inside/ The knife I hid inside/ Oh, your heart/ How it bled/ How I bled for you, you did for me/ Could you do the same?/ Easily, you could, you never loved a broken wretch like me/ How could anyone love a wretch like me?/ A monster like me/ Oh! A monster like me!" Her song fell on the heart of Angela, bringing her to tears. It rung familiar to her and guilt entered swiftly. But holding back she entered the room and looked at Rosalind with such emotion and simply stated, "Easily."

Elsewhere, Dante sits in his tiny disorganized office over his desk covered in papers all linked to the murder of Angela's brother. He looks them over trying to make sense of everything and tying it to the murder of Jean D'Blanchfleur, whom was killed in the same fashion. Poor souls didn't even see it coming. Tortured too... He thought to himself, biting his lip. Just then, his assistant burst through his office door, "Officer L'Juste, sir. This came in for you. It’s a letter." His gaze shot up, "From whom?" The assistant stumbled on his words, "Um, I-I-I don't- Don't know, doesn't s-s-s-say." Dante snatches the letter and inspects it before opening it, "Thank you, you can go. Now." "Y-y-you're welcome, s-sir. Bye." The assistant leaves and Dante rips open the letter, "Oh, my god... It’s from the killer."

The letter reads:

Hello my dear, Inspector L'Juste. Things have just begun, that is, if anyone else gets involved and too close. The first was merely justice being handed to one whom warranted such a disgusting death. You see, Monsieur D'Blanchfleur was a brutal rapist, so he died with the weapon he had used against his victims to defile them in the same manner he chose to defile them, well in a way. Choking on it. And since he was choking, I decided maybe, just maybe, he needed some air. So I cut his throat open so he could get a little oxygen in his lungs. But then he was trying to close the hole i had fashioned him so i cut off his fingers for being so naughty. Unfortunately, or perhaps, very fortunately for his victims, he died. And the second, well, he simply knew too much about the matter of the first and was very unreliable to keep his filthy mouth shut. So I killed him too. And since I loved the way I had destroyed the first, I decided to do the same to this one, but fingers first. And as a finishing flair, I gutted him. It was glorious. You should have seen it when his intestines just rolled out. Well, if you're not careful, you could be next. Ta-ta for now, my love. Oh, and do please watch your back, we wouldn't want it cut open for your kidneys to fall out.

Your biggest fan,

The Six-String Killer

"Fuck! He's toying with me!" Dante exclaims furiously. "Bastard!" He slams his hand on his desk and clears it of all the papers, "None of this makes sense. There were really no direct ties between Antonio and Jean. Well, except Angela. But she can't have killed her own brother. And her only tie to Jean was Rosalind." He paused and rubbed his forehead, "But Antonio was on tour with them and... Rosalind! It can't be. She has an alibi and she's... Shit. She's the only one that could have gotten close enough to either of them. My dear, God." He grabs his coat and fedora and heads out quickly.

Outside the sky has grown dark and lightning breaks the black clouds to bring down a heavy downpour. There's no one in the parking lot, but yet a clang echoes within. Weary, Dante slowly heads to his car, looking about and seeing no one. He unlocks his car from his electronic keys. Another loud noise. No one still. A shadow moves from the corner of his eye. "Who's there?" A distant car alarm blares and he jumps turning around with his gun drawn, "Show yourself!" He waits for a while, shifting and turning, looking vigilantly for anything or anyone but nothing appears. He gets into his car and starts it, "Got to get to her house quick. Angela might be in trouble." Just then a sharp blunt force blow lands on his head from behind, knocking him out cold.

Groggy, he wakes up hours later tied up to a metal chair and gagged in a dark and dank room full of tools to cut and split and tear and bore holes into hard surfaces. Dante begins to panic, assuming the worse. Sweat beads down his face, I've gotta get out of this mess, somehow. She got me, shit she fucking got me! A heavy metal door creaks open and a dark figure steps in. Dante begins to writhe and scream in anticipation. "I told you to watch your back, didn't I lovie. Now look at what you've gotten yourself into for being so damned noisy." Speaks lowly an indescribable and distorted voice, "Now I think I'll have some fun with you." The figure walks into the dim light revealing a masked person in a long shapeless overcoat. The figure walks over to the tools and picks up a drill. "Tell me, how many people have those hands killed, Officer L'Juste? I know you were a Marine. You must have killed hundreds. Including innocents. So let’s make sure you never kill anyone ever again." The figure seemingly glides toward Dante and revs the drill. In a steady pace the drill begins to descend on to Dante's hand. "Now be a good boy and don't move a muscle."

Meanwhile, Angela desperately calls Dante's phone to no avail, "Please come one, pick up. Please! Where are you?" She had awakened to an empty bed and had called Rosalind countless times but there had been no answer. She's missing. "Rose, where'd you go? Where are you, dammit? Why didn't you tell me or leave a note or call or... Oh no... I hope you're okay. Rose!?" She feels lost without her friend, and believes that her friend is lost as well. Her fears have begun to unfurl. She's started to despair, running her hands through her hair and curling up in a ball to keep herself from breaking down. Tears begin to stream out of her beautiful eyes. "I've lost everything. Everything I love. Just because of some stupid vendetta. Damn you Jean! Damn you..."

Track Seven: A Short Reunion

Slipping in and out of consciousness, and struggling to keep his wits about him, Dante breathes shallow puffs filled with saliva and blood for he had been beaten and tortured by the supposed Six-String Killer. Blood was spilled and splashed on the floor and all over his clothes. He's lost a few pints but is hooked up to an I.V. to make sure he doesn't die of blood loss. And as another form of torture, the killer had seared the wounds closed with a white hot iron blade, making sure he was awake only to hear him scream in such indescribable agony. Now, barely alive, he searches the room finding that the killer had gone, and had seem as such for quite a while. How the hell am I going to get myself out of this alive..? The bloodied detective thought to himself as he tried to think of ways to break loose. I've got nothing -Dammit! I've got nothing! What kind of a detective am I!? He continues, beating himself up on the inside. Then a loud clamour and a creak from a heavy metal door radiates from the other side of the door in front of him. Shit! She's back. I'm not sure I'll survive this... He grieves heavily, remembering all the things he's done, tears stream down from his closed eyes as his memories take him to a time long passed when he had a wife and a son. Both of them were taken from him. His son was killed by a drunk driver, crossing the street to school for his first day after he'd just been dropped off. Dante saw the whole thing and was powerless to stop the tragic event. The driver just drove off. He held the limp body of his deceased son for hours weeping. Shortly after that, his wife suffered a breakdown and committed suicide, slitting her wrists and writing a suicide note on the kitchen floor in her own blood only to drag herself to the top floor of their apartment complex, bleeding out the whole way, and throwing herself off the roof. She died on impact.

The second metal door creaks slowly open. Dante pulls his head up and opens his eyes only to see the unexpected. "Dante!" cries Angela rushing to his side so that she can free him and escape. "Angela, what the... How'd you find me? Where are we?" She doesn't say anything for a moment, then speaks solemnly, "Lets get you out of here, okay? Save your energy, you'll need it." Angela manages to free him, but he's reluctant to go with her, "Ange... What exactly is your role in all of this?" She grits her teeth and exhales heavily, "Dante, be a good boy and stop asking questions. We have to get out of here before we get killed. Now take my hand and let's go." He sighs and hesitantly takes her hand. She props him up and carries him out through the heavy metal doors, up some decrepit, hard concrete steps and into the light of day. Dante's eyes shut instantly as she carries him out passed the house in which he was held. They walk steadily by the mailbox which reads: "Figueroa".

Angela sets him down on the passenger side of Rosalind's second car, red of course, of which Angela borrows on occasion. She straps him in and rushes over to the driver's seat, "I'm taking you to the hospital." Dante's eyes adjust to the light and he opens them cautiously. Just then, Angela begins to drive off before Dante could look around. "Angela, please, I need to know what’s going on here. Why were you there? How'd you find me?" Her eyes deviate from the road to Dante rapidly before she nervously states, "It's Rose... She's gone, I woke up and she's gone. I called you like a million fucking times! You must've been down there the whole time. Oh, my god... Rose, what if-- no. This is just so fucked up. This wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not like this." Dante gathers his wits and shouts weakly, "Angela! What are you talking about? What's going on!?" Angela stops the car immediately and sighs heavily, still clutching the steering wheel. Dante awaits her response as she remains silent for a moment gathering up a bit of courage and staring down into the brand insignia in the center of the steering wheel. She finally looks over at Dante, whom is glaring intently into her as if into her very soul, exhales forcefully, and hesitantly speaks, "Look, you were not supposed to get this close. No one was. This is something a lot more complicated than you think. It's not just a crime of passion, or some well thought-out serial killings. It isn't revenge... It's better for you if you just drop this case and never get involved with us again. Especially with Rose. I know you care about her, and I know you have strong romantic feelings for her as well. Well," She scoffs and continues, "that's something you have to forget about. For your own well being." A sort of frustration mixed with concern comes over him, "Is that a threat?" Angela cocks her head low and gazes up into his eyes with ferocity and a slight smile, "Take it as a strong suggestion. After all, I do like you. I wouldn't want anything unfortunate to befall you, my dear Dante. Say like... well, you already know." Dante sits back in shock, believing now that it is Angela that is the Six-String Killer. He's left speechless. Angela smiles more and turns her gaze to the road, "Now, let’s get you to that hospital. Patch up those nasty wounds." She switches gears and speeds off to the hospital. The ride silent all throughout.

Elsewhere, Rosalind sits in a cold, black, empty room that seems to nullify the senses and keep time distant. She feels a sense of weightlessness and despair. She clutches her hair and smothers her face in her hands, claws at her arms and legs, bites her nails off. She's losing grip on reality, and she can’t stand it anymore. "Get me out of here! Angela!" She shrieks in anxious desperation hoping to be heard.

Nothing.

The darkness seems to be encroaching on her, trying to swallow her up, never to let her go. She huddles into fetal position in what seems to her as a corner, rocking back and forth, telling herself that she will be found and rescued from her confinement. In her struggle with her own psyche, which in her anxiety had induced a series of violent delusions depicting the murder of those she is closest too in gory manner similar to the Six-String killings, she had collapsed into a comatose stasis. Her mind is blank, there is no Rosalind Ramos at this point, there is only a drone, driven by violent urges. She snaps out of the stasis and into a personality much more violent and morally impaired, capable of anything.

Rosalind has suffered from Split-Personality Disorder, Sociopathic tendencies, and an abnormal adversity towards men stemming from her traumatic experience with Jean D'Blanchfleur. The constant rapes affected her overall mental stability over a short period of time, drastically causing changes to how she processes reality and, in some instances, causing blackouts in which she may commit acts she has no recollection of. Knowing this, Angela had come up with the seemingly cruel but necessary inclusion of what they call The Dark Void, to ensure that, during one of her episodes, Rosalind didn't bring any substantial harm to herself or anyone else. But recently it’s gotten less predictable for them, thus forcing them to rethink this strategy.

Track Eight: Revelations of The Fragile Hearts

Locked away in the darkness, howling in rage, Rosalind slams her fist into unknown walls made of concrete nightmares, bleeding through busted knuckles, peeled and scraped to the bone. She cries out with such passionate ferocity, she's gone insane from the seclusion. The abyss cutting her off from all senses and time. "Oh, get me out of here! I'll fucking kill you!" She lets out in a blood-curdling scream so resonant it can be heard above. And desperately she searches for the way out, until finally she finds the cellar door. Behind the door is a cast-iron ladder ascending into the light.

"What happened to him?" Asks a nurse in the city hospital. Angela sneers, "He got into an accident and we didn't want to pay for an ambulance, so I drove him. Anything else you want to know? Like, maybe my sign, or if I shave it all or leave a strip - Just take him to a room, and have him treated! Geez!" The nurse frowns very angrily, "Alright, just fill this-" "I'm not filling shit!" She interrupts, "He needs immediate treatment! He's got sever lacerations and burns. He's lost a lot of blood, and he's been through a traumatic experience. So just fucking get him a room, now!" "Angela." Dante manages out. The nurse grits her teeth and gets a wheelchair, then easing Dante into it and throwing a blanket over him. "Angela..." He speaks softly, "I--" "Shush, go rest, my dear. You need it. Be well!" She cuts him off and sends him off with a kiss and a wink, hiding something with her radiant smile. She waves good-bye and turns, "That was close." and speeds off.

It's been hours and the night came as swift and cold as death itself. Tonight is the darkest of the month since the moon had hidden away from sight, anew. From the window on the tenth floor of a large, brick apartment building breaks through the body of a man. He falls a few feet until he's stopped by guitar strings strung around his neck and tied to a tall lamp which has collided with the window frame, becoming stuck. And as his body suddenly comes to a violent stop, the string cut through to the bone and his intestines spill out of his perforated-sliced-open torso. Blood and guts splatter over the asphalt below, leaving pedestrians shocked and in panic. A woman screams out, pointing at the body of the slain man suspended out of the window. A shadow speeds across the windows and out of sight, escaping before the law arrived.

White sheets stained in crimson splatters from the sins of the night before. She awakens with blood on her delicate, pale hands and smears it on her forehead and through her bright red hair. Feeling the thick texture, she takes her hands before her eyes and fear overcomes her, "What did I do? Oh, my god, what have I done? Did I- Did I kill someone? Oh, no... It's me, I'm the Six-String Killer!" She closes her eyes shut while tears stream down he beautiful eyes so full of remorse, "I did it... I killed Jean, and Angie's brother... And now someone else. I'm a monster!" She cries into her arms, then feeling deep wounds.

"No, you're not Rose." Angela steps into the room, expressionless and cold with her hands behind her back. "You did not kill anyone, and you're not a monster." She continues, walking towards her, "You're so beautiful, you know that? I admire you so much. So much talent and passion. You’re amazing at what you do. And... You were so innocent." She breaks her gaze and looks away to somewhere distant, "He broke you. He destroyed your spirit and broke your mind, ripping your body. He was the monster, not you! You're just a hapless victim of an obsessed and depraved mama's boy. He deserved to die. I hated him so much. I hated him for what he did to you. He broke you! But still you remain beautiful. Beautifully broken." She shot her icy gaze into Rosalind's eyes, "I love you, Rose." She then leans into Rosalind and speaks, "And I'd do anything, anything... To make sure you get what you deserve."

Rosalind's thoughts race and run rampant through her fragile mind. She begins to doubt what's real, losing her grip. "You? Angie, you killed him? And your own brother!? Why?" She runs her hands through her hair and clutches her head, shaking. "Why would you do that!? Dammit, Angela, why? Answer me! I trusted you!" Angela's temper rises, not understanding why Rosalind is so upset, "I did it for you! I love you too much to have sat back while he got away with what he did to you! And my brother was going to turn me in, I couldn't have that. I can't be away from you. And then the roadie started to suspect something was going on, so last night... I took care of him. Now the only person left is Dante, and I'm going to pay him a visit later. So if you don’t mind..." She stops short feeling as if someone else is present.

"I mind." A gunshot follows the voice of a wounded Dante. He had left the hospital without notice with an ominous feeling of Rosalind's impending doom. Still in scrubs and shirtless with patches all over his body, he paces towards an unconscious Angela, gun still drawn. He's shot her in the shoulder to bring her down, "You okay, Miss Rose? What are those cuts on your arm? Did she--" Angela coughs and interrupts, "She's a cutter when... when she has her break-downs... She's unstable..." He crouches over her, "Angela, you have the right to--" She talks over him, "No, no you can't! You can't separate us! You don't understand--" He continues, "--remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an att--" She cuts him off launching at him with a formally concealed shank, "No! I won't let you separate us!" Rosalind yells, "Angela, stop! No!"

Track Nine: Resolution's Revolt

Her headstone reads: 'She loved ‘til the end and to a fault. Her greatest strength led to her untimely demise. She lived a life of fear and love as an angel, and died a monster. Angela Elizabeth Figueroa; Born: December 13, 1988; Died: October 10, 2010.'

Black and red roses lay on her grave from the only person who'd ever love her. Rosalind somberly walks away from the grave as her long coat and blood red hair flow in the strong autumn wind, which also picks up leaves and carries them away. The beautiful reds, yellows and orange colors being swept throughout the cemetery to contrast dull grays of the gravestones and mausoleums as Rosalind enters her car.

Dante is held in high esteem for ending the Six-String murders and keeping the whole case concealed from the public. But some things never added up in the case. The chief of police ordered him to leave it be and just close the case. Still, something kept poking and prodding, picking at the back of his mind. If Angela killed all of three of those people, the where was Rosalind? Had she been kept in the so-called Dark Void, through the whole of the murders? If so, then how had she been able to sleep in her bed with Angela at her side? Some things just didn't fit. It couldn't have just been Angela.

Rosalind went on to tour the United States and Canada, with all new songs inspired by the events that took place that fall. She recorded a new album titled: Six-String Killers which went to the top of the billboard charts and was named Album of the New Decade and went triple platinum. Still, something dark within her remained. Something which shook her very soul and had her questioning her sanity. She still woke up some nights with blood on her hands from nightmares of Angela and Jean. She'd refused to speak of those events and chose to never see Dante again.

One dark, moonless winter night, a letter arrived at Dante's desk. He picked it up and opened it casually. His eyes widened in a fearful stupor as it read:

Good evening, my dear Inspector L'Juste. I hope you didn't think this was over and done with. I had merely just begun. I hope you are the first to find my latest work of art. I believe it's a masterpiece! I've tried new things, having tons to think about. You see, in my absence and seclusion, I fantasized of ways to end your life. But then I thought, "Why kill him when he's just so much fun to mess around with?" And I came to the conclusion that I would spare your life for the time being ‘til I perfect my craft. And to do so, I've got to find more men worth killing. Depraved souls that deserve to die. Now that everyone that suspected me is dead and buried, I have no one left to fear or kill undeservingly. Anyway, I do look forward to when we meet again. Until then, Tata, my love. And leave no stone unturned, suspect everyone.

Your Biggest Fan, and Most Loving Adversary,

The Six-String Killer

Hidden Track

One year has passed since Angela's death and from the tree her brother was found hung three bodies from guitar strings, dismembered, disemboweled, eyes cut out and replaced with testicles and Dahlia Smiled. These men were all molesters and rapists and pedophiles, wanted by the FBI. Dante found them on a hunch, thinking to himself, Rosalind. Damn you. With nothing to go on he hopes only for her to slip up and leave a trace of evidence.

Until that time, Dante will just have to keep following her tour where ever it goes. Anywhere she has a show, a murder follows. Either she's the murderer, or an obsessed fan of hers copying Angela's modus operandi. Either way, it’s up to Dante to end this once and for all.

In the midst of the murders that have now gone public and have raised Rage Rose's sales, Rosalind begins a downward spiral into drugs, alcohol and promiscuity. Having backstage orgies after her shows and bringing fans home, both men and women. All in an attempt to keep her past and disorders at arms length and to feel nothing. Numb.

Meanwhile, Dante closes in on the Killer and is about to give it a go, when news of Rosalind's tragic suicide hits him hard. She slit her wrists after a slew of sexual endeavors with her self appointed biggest fan, who woke up next to her lifeless body with a note on his chest reading:

I know it was you.

Shortly thereafter, the murders subsided along with the following suicide of Rage Rose's biggest fan, who killed himself in Six-String manner.

No one can know whose obsession it was that led to the Six-String murders...

THE END