"What do you want from me?" Sven snapped.
"Nothing...it's just that I really like you and stuff, and I want you to be honest with me" Lenore said awkwardly.
"You want honesty?" he caught hold of her shoulders, "Then I'll give you honesty. I hate losers like you. I can never like someone like you. You don't even know me and you can't like me."
She was shocked into silence, not only because his words of rejection had pierced her like knives, but because of the cold, distant, almost maniacal way in which he was talking to her. She had seen him cold, and he was aloof and distant most of the time, but he had never been violent...ever.
"Can we be friends then?" she asked in a small, lost voice.
"Go away, Lenore" he sneered, "I can't stand pile ons either. I think it is pretty obvious that we can't be friends anymore. I don't like toying with people and seriously, with you, I've lost patience. You're too climgy and dependent. You think I'll always be there for you."
"What has happened to you?" she shrieked, shocked. "You weren't like this before you started hanging around those catwalk models."
"That's my job, and I'll change to suit it if I like" he replied icily, "Now get out."
It was then that Lenore's childish ways had taken over once again.
"I hate you!" she screamed, "I hate you more than anyone on the face of Earth, Sven Schulz. No one, not even my sisters had ever made me resent my words this much. Goodbye, and I hope that you burn in hell."
With those words she had stormed out of his house. The very same night, Sven had shut his bedroom window that overlooked Lenore's house, and it had never been opened again.