"Alfred!"
Her black hair swirls and twists in the wind as she comes running toward me, her brown eyes sparkle, and her smile tease me with its rows of bright white teeth.
"What's wrong Alfred?"
She asks me as she comes closer, noticing my drawn and tired face.
"Nothing"
I force a smile as I hug her close, my hands quiver.
"You're trembling,"
She has noticed it; I try and hold myself firmly, but in vain as she pulls back, her face a mask of concern, I quickly shove my hands deep in my pockets.
"Tell me, what's wrong Alfred?"
I just shake my head; I can't look her in the eyes, for all I see there is love, love I don't deserve.
"Alfred?"
She takes hold of my arms and tries to pull one of my hands from out of my pockets where I have shoved them. I won't let her, I can't let her, if I let her look at my hands she will see…
"Why won't you let me look at your hands?"
I can feel my heart beat faster as I just shake my head.
"…please Alfred, let me see your hands."
I cringe, I can't say no, I can't resist when she gives me that look, that undying, unfailing look. I slowly allow her to pull my hands out of my pockets.
"Oh Alfred."
I let my hands drop to my sides as she lets go of them, covering her mouth in horror at the blood red stains that cover them.
"W-why?"
I feel my heart break as a tear slides down her cheek, that beautiful piece of delicate art, I look down, ashamed of myself, ashamed of what I did, of what I had to do.
"I… I am sorry,"
It's all I can say. I turn and slowly walk away,
walk away to wash the blood of her people off my hands.