Exploding this time, from the oppresing hold of sleep, Rojer tossed the sheets from his body, letting them pile up on the other side of the bed and sprinted through the bedroom towards the stairs. Looking down he saw no-one down there. Feeling sick in the pit of his stomach he all of a sudden felt like he knew where Julie was.
Turning back and this time slowly walking back to the bed, he carefully peeling back the blankets, only to find them caked with blood.
Lifting the last blankets he saw laying there, his love Julie. stuck in a position that screamed of prolonged agony on her part, her back arched and stiffened, her face wide open, forever to remain mid scream.
Looking down her body he saw her dress, torn open and beneath a matting of knife wounds that revealed the inner workings of her body.
Seeing this Rojer felt the puke running up his oesophagus. Turning on pure instinct, he let his innards eject their contents freely over the floor as he was taken to his knees.
As the river of half digested food began to end he found himself weeping bitterly over the death of Julie.
For he felt that he once again knew something he shouldnt have. he looked at his hands and saw knife wounds along his forearms where Julie, from trying to defend herself had turned the knife and it had bit him. Looking up at her once again he now noticed the knife, sticking out of her right hip, somehow wedged into the very bone.
Taking her body, he carefully stepped over the puke and walked into the centre of the room. Gently placing her on the floor he tried to put her in a more comfortable looking position but rigor mortis thwarted him.
he went and found a cloth and began to clean the blood from her face. After having cleaned her face he tried to close her jaw but the rigor mortis still tried to make her appear in as much pain as humanly possible, only making his pain and guilt worse.