I know it isn't October yet, but I felt the need to get this out.

I was used to bad guys who would treat me as if I were a step lower than dirt. So, when he came to me, all saccharine smiles and gentlemanly, I couldn't contain myself. He was perfect in every way. I decided that after six months of dating, I wanted to make him more. I wanted him to meet my parents. We hopped into his Mustang and ventured from Gainesville to Miami, me grinning like a fool and him squeezing my hands gently. He was perfect; his words were perfect. He was spotless. Even as he stuffed my decapitated body into the trunk of his car and shoved my rotting, awkwardly torn arms and legs into the backseats, still wearing that customary grin like a mask. I couldn't help thinking that he was the epitome of perfection.