A/N: This was published November 16th 2013, although it appears to have been added earlier. It is a rewrite of an earlier chapter, which I felt was in need of revision. Apologies for any confusion this may cause.

Punishment

"NO!"

It was a long, drawn out howl of pain and regret, and it took that Baron a while to realise that the sound was coming from himself.

What had he done? He was a murderer, nothing but a monster, doomed to rot in the deepest depths of Hell. There was, he was sure, a special place reserved for people like him.

His hands and clothes were stained with Helena's blood, shockingly scarlet and disgustingly still warm. The knife he had used to snuff out her life lay discarded on the ground, similarly stained with red.

"Helena!" The Baron pleaded. "Helena, please – please wake up! I am sorry, so very sorry. What have I done?"

The last few minutes were a blur in his memory. He focused, remembering how Helena had eyed him haughtily, refusing to accompany him to see her mother. He had called her selfish, told her that her mother ought to be ashamed to have a daughter like her.

Her usually icy and impenetrable exterior had cracked at that, and she had screamed at him that he was a bully and a brute, that there was no way she or any other woman could ever love him. Until then, he had tried to be patient with her, to reason to the best of his ability. He thought if she could see how tolerant he could be, her opinion of him might change.

Her words made it abundantly clear that such a thing would never happen, and he was incensed, seized by a blind fury, an all-consuming rage. He didn't think, he acted on impulse, and he would regret that decision ever after.

He unsheathed the knife he kept in his pocket, and he experienced a savage sense of satisfaction when he saw that the loathing for him that he saw so often in her eyes was replaced by very justified fear.

"Baron," she had asked, sounding panicked, "what are you - ?"

But the Baron did not give her the chance to finish. He drew his arm back and plunged the knife deep into her chest, relishing the power that surged through his veins. She would never look down on him again.

Once was not enough. In the midst of his rage, he stabbed her twice, three times, four. He lost count. It didn't matter, really. Now she knew that she could not treat him like some street urchin, nor dismiss his love as inconsequential. He loved her, and she refused to see it.

As his wrath faded and clarity returned, the Baron was overcome with what he had done. There was only one punishment severe enough for his crime, and only he could deliver it.

Closing his eyes, he turned the weapon on himself, stabbing himself just as he had done her.

"Forgive me, Helena."

Written for:
Monthly Het-tastic Drabble-athon (52 blood)
25 Days of Christmas Competition (red)