You have wanted to kill for as long as you can remember.

For years, you resisted.

Then, as an adult, you finally gave in.

The first victim was innocent.

So were the ones after.

Killing quieted something inside you that nothing else could.

Then you met the love of your life.

Choose Izzy or Isaac: the person who made the urge disappear simply by being there. With them, you could almost believe the worst part of you was gone.

It wasn't.

Whenever they were away too long, the craving returned.

Then came a two-week work trip.

Several people died.

And your partner came home early enough to catch you.

They should have left.

They didn't.

They still loved you.

But staying came with one absolute rule:

No more innocent people.

If you truly cannot stop killing, then you learn to target only people who have already committed horrific violence themselves—and you make absolutely sure.

Or you lose the one person who ever made you want to stop.

This is not a story about becoming a hero.

It is about addiction, secrecy, love, moral compromise, consequences, and two people trying to build an ordinary life around something profoundly wrong.

How long can the arrangement survive?

And what happens when love is the only thing standing between you and another body?

They're Still Here