Water
Drip.
Drip.
Drop.
Water and blood drip from the ends of your filthy blonde hair.
Drip.
Drip.
Drop.
Water laps against the topmost edge of the bathtub, overflowing as your head slides under.
Drip.
Drip.
Drop.
Water droplets from the gutters splash against my face, shimmering in rainbow colors as the camera flashes blind me.
Drip.
Drip.
Drop.
Raindrops ricochet off the closed lid of your coffin, collecting on the rose petals someone scattered there.
Drip.
Drip.
Drop.
The faucet leaks into the sink at Arkham, filling my monotonous day with a cruelly monotonous sound.