"Red is the color of violent death. Red is the color of strong feelings -love, passion, greed, anger, hatred. Emotions-better not to have them. Luckier not to have them. Love, Passion, Greed, Anger, Hatred.

The feelings pull one another in a circle. Faster, harder, blurring into violence. I had no power over it. Love, Passion, Greed, Anger, Hatred. The words pulsed in my head every time I plunged the knife into her body.

Hatred, Anger, Greed, Passion, Love, The line between them is thin and red. "

Herbody lay on the floor. Her slender arms outflung, palms up. Death. Cold and brutal, strangely intimate.

The people rose in unison as the judge emerged from his chambers. The Honorable Franklin Monahan. The figurehead of justice. The decision would be his.

Black pools of blood in the silver moonlight. Her life drained from her to puddle on the hard cypress floor.

Richard Kudrow, the defense attorney. Thin, gray, and stoop-shouldered, as if the fervor for justice had burned away all excess within him and had begun to consume muscle mass. Sharp eyes and the strength of his voice belied the image of frailty.

Her naked body inscribed with the point of a knife. A work of violent art.

Smith Pritchett, the district attorney. Sturdy and aristocratic. The gold of his cuff links catching the light as he raised his hands in supplication.

Cries for mercy smothered by the cold shadow of death.