Krovi.

His name was Oren; he was tall, almost six feet, and he had waist-long black hair. Adding to his dark features was his goatee and sleeve tattoos of devilish imagery.

When I found him, he was already dead; a lost soul damned to an eternity of pain and madness. He was as cold as ice and dangerous; he could kill you without thinking twice. He was ruthless and you could even say evil to some extent. But I came to love him nonetheless.

And Oren Petrov was, ironically, the one who saved me from misery.

This story is co-written with Sam, a.k.a. CaffeinatedKitty.