A time like this is very precious. This she knows. And though she is anxious to get it over with, her movements are careful and slow.

She looks at her surroundings. The door to her tiny room is locked. The lights are dimmed. No music plays. Only the crickets outside her window, playing a sad concerto, and the wind that howls in pain.

The clothes she is wearing are all wrong. The black dress she picked out is one he would hate. It makes her freckles stand out like stars and he would have laughed at her attempt to be elegant in satin and lace. Elegant is something she has never been and never will be.

She sighs heavily and changes into the old standby. The plaid skirt and crisp white shirt of her school uniform slide over her skin with a soft hiss. She ties her hair with a black ribbon, and her heart catches in her throat because she can almost smell him on her. She shakes her head and moves on to the next step.

The blades are in an elegantly crafted silver box. A dragon slithers across the side, a heart in its mouth. She imagines the heart being crushed between razor-sharp teeth and swallowed whole.

As she takes out the tiny steel tool, her eyes fall onto the piece of paper on her desk. She had tried and tried to explain herself, but found she couldn't. How could she explain that her heart and soul had been lowered into the ground with his cold, still body?

The act itself is difficult. Her hands are shaking badly. She inhales deeply as her porcelain skin splits open and her life begins to flow out onto the towels she put down. An effort to keep the floor from getting stained.

Now, she almost wishes she could turn back. But she swallows the feeling and closes her eyes. In the darkness of her mind, beyond the distant flashing lights, his gray eyes are dancing, and he is reaching for her hand.

fin