Dearest, why are you looking at me like that? Your expressive eyes are wide with an emotion I cannot name. I wish you would speak to me. Your pure voice is so much easier to understand. Is something wrong?
It is so cold in here, your shaking shoulders seem to say. I understand, my home can be rather chilly. I leave you to retrieve a blanket. You can't be cold with me here. I place the blanket around your shoulders. You gasp and close your eyes. Your emotional response moves me. I could almost weep again. I never imagined my touch would have such a positive effect on you. Regretfully, I step away.
That is when I notice the spots on the blanket. Right were my hands had been. Dark spots. When had that blanket gotten dirty? Dirty things are not allowed. I remove the blanket and retrieve another. I place it on your shoulders again. You bit your lips when I touch you this time. If I could, I would smile. I walk back to inspect the blanket again. More dark stains! You see me looking at the spots on the blanket. Your large eyes are questioning. Surely you would understand my urges for perfection? I step towards you again, to dispatch the displeasing blanket. You back away. I understand the look in your eyes now. It was not love.
Dearest, why can't you love me? I walk towards you again. You began to pant and struggle to turn away. You trip. I make a move to catch you, and you fall to the floor. What did you trip on? Oh...that.
You scream. The sound breaks me and I begin to weep again. You stare at the floor in horror. The stains on the blanket, which is still wrapped around your shoulders, begins to drive me mad. I walk towards you again. You remain frozen, staring at the lump on the floor. You look up at me, your eyes burning. I know that look. My tears come faster and faster. I had not intended for it to be this way!
You begin to hiss at me, tears falling down your lovely face. Please, don't cry! I hadn't meant to! But the stains on your blanket have made me wild. In one frantic step, blindly moving through my tears, I snatch the blanket off. You cower away, protectively leaning on the lump. I throw the tainted blanket to the floor. The dark stains spread when I make contact with the material. I look down at my hands. They are covered in the dark color that ruined my blankets. I look to you. The blankets' stains have leaked onto your white dress, turning it a dull shade of crimson. Oh Christine. Your eyes are wild. Suddenly, you begin to smile. I cease crying. Do you love me now? You run over to a table behind me, faster then lightning. Then you dash back to the floor, next to the lump. Before I can stop you, I see the object you took from the table. A shining knife. I remain frozen while you swiftly bring the blade up and slash your throat. More crimson stains your dress. It is no longer white. You fall on top of the lump. Your rich hair blends into the shades of gold that the lump has. Your blood spills to the floor. I run to you. Are you still there? I fall to my knees. I take the knife from your hands. You are still warm. I raise it to my throat and look at you. You are face down. I want to kiss your forehead, your smooth, unblemished forehead. But that would be taking a liberty. I want to turn you over. But I don't. You will rest on top of the boy for the rest of eternity. I take your hand into mine, then crawl away from you. I raise the blade to my throat. Oh Christine.
I had never meant for this to happen.