I'm sick, I know it. They call me a yandere. On our wedding day, the groom ran away. I, dressed in my fiery red new clothes, led my troops and rode after him relentlessly, finally catching him at the edge of a cliff. He held a dagger to his own neck, half-threatening, half-pleading for my mercy. "No." I stepped closer to him, standing before him and grasping his hand holding the dagger. "The knife I gave you was for you to protect yourself." I flipped my hand slightly, the tip pointing towards my heart, my eyes filled with madness. "Be good, stab me here. Only when I die will you be free." His hand trembled violently.
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In summary, both individuals who had the same account number were people trying to control each other, torturing each other until they finally discovered that the chains had always been in the other's hands.