Þótt þessi saga sé aðdáandasaga tengist hún í rauninni sögunni bara að því leiti að þetta eru sömu persónurnar.
Og já hún er á ensku, segið hvað ykkur finnst að mætti bæta og laga. :D

She leaned forward to see his face, it was so peaceful in the yellow sunlight.
She kissed him gently, on the cheek and said with her soft voice “Wake up, it's almost noon already.”
He opened his eyes slowly, to her amuse. She stood up and removed the white t-shirt he had lent her and enjoyed having his beautiful green eyes laid on her porcelain skinned body. Now as she was completely undressed, she walked out of the bedroom passionately.
She walked to the living room and imagined she was walking on a catwalk, her hips swung from left to right, right to left. She picked up the pieces of clothes they had trown away last night in all the caos. She hurried to put on the short miniskirt she had just bought and her elegant silver colored top, she took the rest of the clothes in her arms and walked fast towards the front door, and got outside. She walked over to her apartment and got inside and changed clothes again, then she took up her phone and texted him “I have do run an errand but I'll see you soon xxx Fiona.”
She put some rubber gloves and her stepfathers gun in her purse, and got to her car.
She put the newest cd from The Used in the radio because she knew she would have a long ride to go.
She drove past the dark, and high houses which everyone contained at least 500 apartments. Finally she arrived to the destination, a house which wasn't a bit different from the other buildings, aside from the number plate just above the lobby, which said with unclear letters “667.”
She felt a little guilty already for doing this, but she had to, she briefly heard the sentence “Eye for an eye makes the world blind.” These words who seemed so true, she tried to ignore them, she had to, she had promised herself to do this.
She parked her car in the only parking lot that was available, she walked towards the lobby, and to her amuse a concierge offered his help, she denied it, said it would only make it more obvious if she even implied her errand, or even whom she was visiting.
She noticed the elevator wasn't working because of an obvious sign on it, which said “Broken, use the stairs.”
“Is no way up other than the stairs ?” She asked the concierge.
“No.” The Concierge answered dryly.
She looked at the stairs in disbelief. “How could anyone walk up and down these stairs so often?” She asked herself.
She waited for a while and doubted that she should do this, but she always stuck to the decision she had made earlier, she had to do this, for Fernard, for her stepfather, for herself.
The first floors were easy, but then the walking began to get more and more difficult, she was certain that she had never been this tired in her life, and doubted that when she had finally gotten upstairs she could finish the task, but she always kept on going. She knew she had to do this.
When she finally got up to the penthouse apartment, she was so tired she could barely stand upright, she had to rest for few minutes before she could begin her task again.
Should she knock, or should she use the doorbell or should she break up the door? Should she find another way in or what? She was confused by all the possibilities, would Esmé recognize her again? Was Esmé still in Olafs company or what, she didn't know, she couldn't know. Maybe Esmé had moved, then all this preparing would go to waste, she decided to use the the doorbell, find out if Esmé was there, and if so whether or not she would recognize her back. Would she greet her as Triangle Eyes, Fiona or a complete stranger. It had been almost 10 years since the last meeting.
Finally after a long time of thinking she finally rang the doorbell. A young girl, maybe 9 years old answered the door. The girl had long dark hair and obvious green eyes, her eyebrows were big and almost got together over the nose, she recognized the facial structure, and the only thing she could think was “Olaf.”
“Hello!” The girl said cheerfully.
“I'm looking for Esmé Squalor.” Fiona replied.
“I'll go get her.” The girl said and ran into the apartment. “Mo-o-ommy-y.” Fiona heard her yell.
Few second later Esmé Squalor, a woman in maybe her late 40's, earlu 50's came to the door. “Can I help you?” Esmé asked calmly.
“I'm here from the bank, something came up, I'll have to talk to you in privacy, if that's possible.” Fiona answered, struggling to be convincing.
“Alright, we can go into the better livingroom, Emma won't disturb there.” Esmé replied and made Fiona aware to follow.
As they walked into the livingroom, Esmé had chosen to meet her in, Fiona pretended to look for papers in her wallet, but secretly taking the gun in her hand.
When they got into the better livingroom Fiona sat down in one of the nicest chair in the room, but Esmé got to the closet and took two wineglasses out and a bottle of fine french redwine. Fiona looked around while Esmé was pouring the redwine into the glasses, surprisingly and gladly noticing the windows were all very concealed, she wouldn't have any trouble in getting away with it. As Esmé handed her a glass of redwine, Fiona took up the gun, but to her surprise Esmé was as calm as before. Fiona pressed the gun confusingly to Esmé's forehead, but Esmé was still as calm as before.
It was like she knew exactly her plan, and didn't have anything against it at all, Fiona thought.
“You're incredibly calm.” Fiona said. “One could think you'd want to die.” She added dryly.
“No one wants to die.” Esmé replied shortly. “Some just realize they deserve to.”
“Any last words?” Fiona asked not very seriously.
“Just do it already.” Esmé answered. “Coward.” She said a bit lower, but high enough so Fiona heard.
*BAANG*
The blood gassled out from Esmés forehead on Fiona, Esmé, and everywhere around them. Esmés body fell forward on Fiona, who hurried away, and then on the floor silently.
Afterwards Fiona stood there frozen like an ice statue and wondering why Esmé had made her task easier.