Dim light covered the corners of every wall, a quiet breeze cooled the sweat upon my neck.
My eyes watching ever so closley as she slept, each breathe she took was another i despised.
Sweat filled the palms of my hands my every breath drew heavier.
Clutching my fist tightly around the handle of the hatchet, my silhoutte emerged from the shroud of darkness.
Sweat painted the pores of my face.
A sense of suffocation from beneath that mask.
I would wake her from her dreams and baptize her in death.
A flutter from her eyes a glimpse in to mine .
A swing of the blade that would end her life.
Each lash a work of art, a skill that would bring failure to her weakened heart.
The walls bearing witness to the eliquent design of her twisted frame.
My thirst for death had left me staring in the eyes of regret.
I lay beside her running my sinful hands through her angelic locks, but in that room where death had come lay the foundation for evil that could not be undone.

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