Here’s part 8 of my review of Virginal Bella.
When I first started writing my review for Virginal Bella, I was a different Assassin. I was bright-eyed and bushy tailed, naïve, ripe with promise, hopes and dreams. While I still have a great ass, the light has long since left my eyes. Now, I am jaded, world-weary, almost cynical. I no longer dream. I no longer hope for a better tomorrow. This story has killed the earnest, sunny Assassin of yester year.
Now the gloves come off. Not the boxing gloves or anything. The kid’s gloves I wore every time I read a section of this to keep from scratch my eyes out. That’s right, Virginal Bella. I’m coming at you stone sober… ish.