A cold glint reflected off Christopher's glasses. As his emotional wounds were painfully laid bare, a savage, beast-like bloodlust surfaced within him. The shame, frustration, and vulnerability stirred up something within him.

"Bella... I know you hate me, but you can't accuse me like this..." His voice wavered between defensiveness and desperation.

"Accuse you? Christopher, you really are out of your mind! If you dared to do it, why can't you admit it?" Bella stared at his pale, sinister face with nothing but searing hatred.

"Mrs. Iverson's condition seemed to have gotten worse because of my words, but when she convulsed and foamed at the mouth, I knew something was wrong! You once mentioned that your mother had a weak heart, but when I checked her pupils and pulse, it wasn't consistent with a heart attack or even epilepsy! Later, her skin developed red blotches, and now, given your behavior, I have every reason to believe that she was poisoned. You must have injected her with some toxin beforehand! She was poisoned to death!"

Christopher's hand, wrapped tightly around her waist, tensed further, the veins on the back of his pale hand bulging as his eyes flashed with a murderous gleam.

"Christopher... Have you not taken enough lives and caused enough damage? How could you bring yourself to hurt and kill your own mother? How could you do such a thing?" Bella spoke with disbelief and anguish. "Bella, do you know? Your strength is in your intelligence, but your flaw is being too clever," Christopher laughed, but it was a twisted, sorrowful sound, more akin to crying. "Why did I do this... Others might not understand, but you do, don't you?"

He grabbed her chin with so much force, as if he might crush the delicate bone beneath his fingers. "I did it all for you... It's all for you!" Christopher screamed, his voice ragged and broken, as if his vocal cords had been torn.

He was vicious, ruthless, and inhumane to everyone. Yet toward Bella, he had never lost his temper, not even once since he was a child.

her

a tangled mess of contradictory feelings-love and hate, resentment

bottled up for so long that they had festered and bred like parasites within

back, it was too late. He had

"My mother...

Even

if I hadn't killed

ver

time left. In the end, she would have died in extreme pain. I

a lot harde had only one chance, and

overwhelming emotions of pain and despair

composed on the outside, tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. "What happeried to turn you into this? You weren't like this 15

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