I crouched down in the blood on the ground, and dipped my hands in the nectar of life, coating them with the dark red stain. I stared at my hand, watching the blood as it dripped and flowed around the shape of my hand, making tiny little rivers, like veins. Across my hand the blood flowed and slid, crisscrossing over what had already dried. I covered my arms until they were completely red, and wiped my hands on my bare chest, the bloody prints burning into my skin. I stared at my arms, at the wonder and the color that was there, the veins of her blood that danced with the light, the color of my skin and the amazing intricacies that allowed it to function. But that only added to the appeal of the life dripping from my fingertips. I stood and walk past the body to the window, and look out at the moon. The sky was clear and the moon was full, its rays streaming down into my private world. I put my forehead to the glass and my hands on the glass, and stare at the moon while I fog the glass with my breath. I I loved my little world, for I had no one else her to cause me pain. Of course that also meant no one to talk to, but that was acceptable. No one needed to know who I was anymore. They had all lost my trust, and with it my voice. They all betrayed me when I needed them most, but that was no longer an issue. The only one that could have kept me there was now dead by my hands.
I walk away from the window leaving my bloodied hand prints there as well and step closer to the corpse and sat down in the blood, watching as its light blue eyes stare off into space, their emptiness reflecting the hole in my own chest. Its skin gone pale from lack of blood, the warmth gone with its life, I reached out with my hand and touch its cheek, cold like ice compared to the warm blood that once flowed from the wound. I sat there for a time, just sitting there so that I could be with her all alone, to just sit and relax, never again to confuse myself because of her actions.