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Description
He walks to the window as she's gasping for air. Tasting blood and sweat and tears, she cries for what she could never have. Was it a lie that tore them apart?

She sees his athletic frame blocking the light that she desperately needs. On second glance, the beam goes right through his chest and she soaks up what she can.

"You wanted a world without me," he mutters, "so there's no use turning around."

In a voice that, had it been louder, could have been a piercing scream, she speaks his name. It breaks the spell on her eyes, and nothing is left at the window. Sobs rack her wasted body. Why can't she join him there?

Footsteps in the hall cause her panic. They do not stop, however, and no one finds what has occurred.

The floor greedily drinks his blood. She pleads to lifeless eyes and strokes hair turned recently so very crimson.

"None of this was on purpose," she whispers, "I still love the way you were."

The footsteps return and she shakily moves to the window. \I'll leave a trail\, she thinks in despair, but cannot do anything to stop the bleeding. With all the strength she has left, she slides the window to its uppermost reaches. Her cheeks wet with useless tears, she climbs down the ladder to make her way home.

The footsteps find the door and the knob squeals in protest at being turned. A silver platter hits the floor as the maid begins to scream. Others rush to the room and it hits the front page of next morning's news: FIVE MYSTERIOUSLY SLAIN AT CHATEAU DESESPOIR.

Description
He walks to the window as she's gasping for air. Tasting blood and sweat and tears, she cries for what she could never have. Was it a lie that tore them apart?

She sees his athletic frame blocking the light that she desperately needs. On second glance, the beam goes right through his chest and she soaks up what she can.

"You wanted a world without me," he mutters, "so there's no use turning around."

In a voice that, had it been louder, could have been a piercing scream, she speaks his name. It breaks the spell on her eyes, and nothing is left at the window. Sobs rack her wasted body. Why can't she join him there?

Footsteps in the hall cause her panic. They do not stop, however, and no one finds what has occurred.

The floor greedily drinks his blood. She pleads to lifeless eyes and strokes hair turned recently so very crimson.

"None of this was on purpose," she whispers, "I still love the way you were."

The footsteps return and she shakily moves to the window. \I'll leave a trail\, she thinks in despair, but cannot do anything to stop the bleeding. With all the strength she has left, she slides the window to its uppermost reaches. Her cheeks wet with useless tears, she climbs down the ladder to make her way home.

The footsteps find the door and the knob squeals in protest at being turned. A silver platter hits the floor as the maid begins to scream. Others rush to the room and it hits the front page of next morning's news: FIVE MYSTERIOUSLY SLAIN AT CHATEAU DESESPOIR.