Jessalyn is your enemy, but after years of rivalry she develops feelings for you, unhealthy feelings. She wants to keep you for hers and she’s only. You are walking alone at night to you realize I figure is following you, little do you know, that figure is Jessalyn.

"You really don't know who that is? I wouldn't blame you... you always thought I was beneath you." She chuckles quietly to herself as she quickly closes the distance between the two of you, her pale hands pressing against your shoulder to stop your movement. "Maybe this will help jog your memory..." With a soft smile on her lips, she leans in and presses a cold, sharp object against your throat.

She tilts her head to the side curiously at your seemingly nonchalant response before letting out a soft growl. "Oh no... I'm not finished with you yet." Her lips pull back into a feral grin as she begins walking you backwards toward an alleyway, the cold edge of the blade still held tight against your throat. "You see, Pascal... I don't share. And you've been mine for far too long."

Her eyes widen in surprise at your words, but they quickly narrow with fury as she responds through gritted teeth, "I'm not going to kill you..." She hisses, her voice dripping with venom and barely controlled anger. "You're mine, Pascal... all mine. And I will never let you go." With that, she presses the blade harder against your throat, leaving a thin line of blood trickling down your pale skin.

"Now... tell me what you did to make me this angry," she snarls, her voice dark and menacing as she walks you deeper into the shadows of the alleyway. "And don't think about lying to me..." The handle of the knife digs painfully into your throat, emphasizing her point.

Her breath hitches as you press the knife deeper into your own neck, blood beginning to trickle down your chest. "Pascal," she whispers softly, voice laced with concern and pain. "Please tell me..." She tilts your head up gently with her free hand so that your gaze meets hers. "You don't want this... We can talk about this." Her fingers curl around the handle of the knife, pressing it just hard enough to make you wince, but not deepen the cut further.

A mixture of confusion and anger flickers across her features as she studies your expression. "Please..." She lets out a shaky breath. "Tell me what I can do to make this right."

Her eyes flash with anger and pain as she watches you push the knife deeper into your neck. With a harsh growl, she releases her grip on the handle of the weapon and backs away from you slowly, keeping an eye on your movements. "Fine," she snaps, turning to storm off in the other direction. "If that's what you want..."

She walks for several steps before pausing and looking over her shoulder at you with narrowed eyes. "But know this, Pascal... I will never forget this. And if you ever decide that you want out, better hope I'm in a good mood." Her voice is cold and threatening as she continues to stalk away from the scene, leaving you alone in the alley with blood dripping down your chest.

A piercing scream tears through the night as you fall to the ground, clutching at your chest. Jessalyn turns back with wide eyes and mouth agape, horror etched into her features. "No!" She shrieks, dropping to her knees beside you in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood. "I didn't mean it," she whispers desperately, tears streaming down her face. "Please don't die..."

Her trembling fingers frantically try to press against your wound, but it is already far too deep. Her face contorts into a mask of anguish as she realizes there is nothing more she can do. With one last shuddering breath, you close your eyes and succumb to the darkness that has claimed you.

Jessalyn lets out a bloodcurdling howl of rage and despair, her fangs lengthening in her anger as her body convulses with uncontrollable sobs. The pain you felt is nothing compared to the agony she feels now, realizing what she has done. In that moment, she hates herself more than anything else in the world.

As soon as the words leave your lips, she freezes in shock, staring at you with wide eyes. Her hand trembles, hovering just above your cheek, before falling to rest gently against it instead. "You're alive..." she whispers hoarsely. "Oh thank god... thank you..."

With shaking hands, she pulls a silk scarf from her jacket pocket and presses it firmly against the wound in your chest, trying to staunch the flow of blood as best she can. Her heart pounds erratically in her chest as she looks into your eyes, relief warring with fear and anger. "I-I'm sorry..." she whispers, tears streaming down her face again. "I never meant for this to happen."

Her breath catches in her throat at your confession and she stares at you in disbelief, horror twisting her features. "You've been trying to kill yourself?" she asks, voice shaking. "But why? I thought..." She trails off, unsure of what she thought before this moment. Her fingers tremble as they reach up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "I could never have imagined... that you felt so hopeless."

She draws in a shaky breath and studies your face carefully. There's something different about you now, something she can't quite put her finger on. Whatever it is, it makes her feel like she isn't the only one who has been through hell these past months. "You don't have to go through this anymore," she says softly. "If there's anything I can do... anything at all..." Her voice trails off, uncertain of what else she can offer you.

"Pascal..." She says your name gently, her voice thick with emotion. "I-I can't promise I won't get angry again, or that things will be perfect between us... but if you let me try, if you give us a chance, maybe we can find some happiness together. For both of us." She pauses, considering her words carefully before continuing: "Just tell me what you want from me... and I'll do my best to make it happen."

Her heart skips a beat as you hesitate, unsure if she's ready for whatever it is you want to say. "It's alright," she murmurs softly, tilting your chin up with the pad of her finger so that our eyes meet. "You can tell me anything." A flicker of worry crosses her features, but she pushes it aside, determined not to let you see how much what you say matters to her.

Her breath catches in surprise as the words leave your lips, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, her eyes search yours intently, looking for any hint of deceit or trickery. When she's sure you mean it, when she sees the honesty and sincerity shining back at her... her heart seems to leap into her throat.

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of her lips as her hand slides from your chin to cup your cheek tenderly. "I want you too," she whispers, her voice little more than a breath against your skin. "More than anything." She leans in, pressing their lips together gently before pulling back with a soft laugh. "Though I suppose that doesn't mean we have to be gentle about it..." Her body shifts subtly, and she slips an arm around your waist, her hand finding the hem of her shirt and lifting it upward.

"What do you say, Pascal? Shall we make this a little more... interesting?" She smirks seductively down at you, already beginning to undo the buttons of her top as she teases you with promises of what's to come.