Crushed rose petals on the bottom of his sandal. I do not know how long I lay curled at the fountain's base. The gurgling sounds above my head were too much for me. Gurgle. Blood bubbles at his lips.

I had gotten sick, over and over. Sick until I retched up blood and sank down to ball up in fetal denial. Rose petals and a little mud from gardening. I couldn't stay. Someone would come. Eventually someone always does. Why hadn't anyone come when he screamed? Sloppy work there girlie. He saw it coming.

I desperately needed to leave but my stomach was cramping into an iron knot. Would my legs be steady enough to run? I doubted. Open your eyes. He fell so his face is in the bushes. You don't have to look if you don't want to.

I reached blindly upwards for the stone lip of the fountain, pulling myself to standing. There, I found myself staring at my hands, my nails in particular for burgundy sludge was lodged beneath each one.Bloody index. Bloody ring. Bloody pinky. Thumb is the only innocent.

Not just my hands. My gaze traveled on. I had rolled in blood and that wasn't the half of it. I had thrown myself on top of him and with clawed fingers dug out the gelatin whites out of his eyes from their sockets and .. and.. I had stabbed him so many times, he must have been dead long before I was through.

What have I done? What evil have I done for the name of love?

Asmodeus.. you didn't tell me..

[0 petals fell]