Stacks of letters and pictures were scattered in front of him. Every part of him went into a pause while he tried to catch his thoughts. Almost robotically, his hands raised and picked the pictures from the table, his eyes as still as a mannequin. There were graven images of Leena as if she was an object of worship.
A sudden dread and sense of coldness took over on Devin. As if the cold wind went through him, he picked a letter and read the content written on it.
[My dear beloved Leena, someone touched your portrait today and I have sliced off his hand. Only I can touch you, right]
His mood sickened and he picked another letter without finishing it.
[I have written this letter with my own blood, my beloved, Leena. Only you could make me crazy for you. I promise you, I will soon come and take you away from everyone and we will live together happily, Only two of us.]
