TW: blood, suicide

Blood soaked her dress, trapping her in a red nightmare. The red seeped into her hands, wet and sticky. The air had turned as thick as the blood by now, but she couldn’t help but admire her mess. 

She thought it was beautiful. She loved how the blood settled in the callus of her palms and how calm the blood flowed as it freely streamed out of him. To her, the body was like a painting: Perhaps a man swimming - drowning - in a sea of red, or a deep sunset that bleeds the sky red.

She smiled as her hands dried, red and patchy. The blood had stopped pooling out of his head by now, so she decided to pull out the cake-cutting knife that she viciously stabbed him with. She teased the knife as she pulled it out centimeter by centimeter, enjoying every agony-long second of it. 

She stood in her beautiful once-white wedding dress, now engulfed by a sinister red, as she heard the church bell sound for the groom. She blushed thinking of everyone waiting for the groom to appear, unaware of the bloody massacre that occurred. 

She shakily held the cake-cutting knife, slowly feeling her arms lift the knife to her throat. She looked at her vanity, admiring her beauty before she looked longingly at her groom. His body lay lifeless, his color had completely drained from him after losing an impressively large amount of blood. She crawled to the floor to meet him, taking his cold hand in hers and kissing it gently. 

“Till death do us part”, she whispered, lifting the knife to her throat and slicing it in one swift motion.