The black gate, white house, the small flower garden, the scattered flowers, the small staircase, the brown door, the small passage, the three doors, the door with a 'don't enter sign'...
Shattered, a glass shattered inside the room. Then another crash, now it was some paper, Bloody papers.
A figure curled up at the side and trembling it looked at It's hand.... it was blood, bloody with her own blood.
Not far lied a knife with blood too.
But she had no big open wound.... no she had...small cuts covering her wrist to her shoulders.... her pants a little riped and the blood oozing from the wound made marks on the clothes.
(NO THIS ISN'T ENOUGH I NEED TO DO MORE NO! I DESERVE TO DIE! I DON'T WANT LOVE ! I DON'T WANNA BE A BURDEN)
And with that the knife was already in her hand which made a full swing and ....
made its way through her body where it needed to be, according to her. With a satisfied smile on her face she started to have blurry vision, but even in this condition she never forget to call out one name, "Dream"
On her lower stomach was a knife, drilled deep...
Her body, it looked more lifeless then it was, her eyes hooded her hand now drenched in fresh blood. Soon her body crashed down on the cold floor like a shattered flower all broken and seperated.
