(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

A thief's reflexes are much sharper than you might think. Drunk on ecstasy
as she was in my arms she could still feel something was wrong, twist away
just as the blade buried itself in her chest. I had missed her heart
completely, and Annah began to struggle.
I had seen how quick she was with the blades, how deft. They were
unsheathed in an instant, and she could've swung back and slashed my
throat in a blink of an eye. She could've left me gurgling on the tiled floor,
my blood mingling with hers. There was no reason Annah couldn't now be
crawling towards the door, crying out for help even as she slowly bled out
from the wound.
But she hesitated. Oh, how she hesitated, punch-daggers trembling in her
hands as if she didn't know what to do. She just lay back in my arms, trying
to make sense of it all, trying to dig herself out of the hurt of betrayal. She
couldn't bring herself to kill me, even if slashing my throat meant nothing in
the long run.
She could've saved herself easily.
"Excellent," the book moaned in rapture, "Excellent. Never have I felt
treachery as deep as this. I can taste it. You have proven yourself a worthy
student. This, then, is the final spell I can teach you." It muttered some
strange syllables, and a strange howl swelled in my heart. A smile curved at
my lips like the blade of a dagger, and I knew a word of power, an utterance
that can unravel reality and sever the strand of life with just a whisper.
It felt good ringing in my head. I felt giddy, as if I were keeping a secret I
must not let out.
"Ch-chief?" The voice at the door was small and afraid.
"Ah, good thing you're here, Morte," I nodded, not looking up, "I'll need you
as a witness. The thief had somehow broken into my rooms, tried to rifle
through my belongings. I had to defend myself, of course."
His voice was furious, and he trembled in the air with rage, "I can't believe
this... you've sunk pretty low before, chief, but this just takes the cake. I'll
see you in Baator, you banged-up, short-stemmed, back-stabbing,
ungrateful, pock-marked, dung-biting, greasy-haired, snaggle-toothed sorry
piece of amnesiatic garbage! Mark my words, you piking sod, keep on this
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