Blood. Thats what she loved. And then she would go outside, into the storm, and it would wash the blood away, so that she could be saved.
I remember the screams, the shock horror. I remember the looks on her sad little face.
And I remember the quote on her headstone.
No one, no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't save someone who was already dead.
Her soul was always dead. She had a heart to love others, but not herself.
WHY COULDN'T SHE COME BACK? WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME? WHY DID SHE LEAVE ME WITH HER PAIN?
Save yourself. Leave me to suffer.
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