A soft cry. Such a tortured noise drawn from my throat. I hold my peace, hoping that cry that so started me would not cause him to see me silence.
Cold filled me. Kiss of a blade upon my skin; curtains parting for a rivulet of red It flows so gently upon me. I feel no pain; hand of soft silk moved across my breast.
Lank strands against me. Once gold now brass. The clammy calm is restored within me. Hands running down my front, behind. Parted folds yet unviolated.
No tears well within me. My surprise is complete as he removed his hands. Resealed; violation of red only. This is not my day then; happy faces once known now remembered flash like painted dolls before my eyes.
Red, black, blue, green. Fills my vision with eyes, not the cloudy grey of those before me. Futile in sustenance, I know my virtue remains till death.
She lay upon the floor. Face broken in, stomach cut open. Virtue, purity in the open. New orifices crafted and used, caked blood upon my brain. Red sanity slipping. What face is this? Will this also visit upon me?
Grey eyes know. Fetid breath spills forth; fills my senses.
Still I hang here. Sanity a thread, red knows, blue knows. Black lays face down in the mud, green but a mere memory so erased from this earth.
Consciousness leaves me, pain breeds within me.