Amelia stared at the roses. She extended her arm out to caress the blood red flowe with her bony white fingers.
    “Soon enough my heart will be as purely red as you,” Amelia whispered to the rose in a raspy voice.
    She looked down at her chest and saw only an empty hole that was waiting to be filled up.  Amelia straightened her scarf and sniffed as if she was waiting for her prey.
    Amelia brushed her hand down the flower like a musician  playing a violin and suddenly felt a bump.  She had pricked her finger on a rose thorn. Amelia looked at her finger with sorrow for she felt no pain.  She wanted to feel pain.
    “Excuse me miss, do you need something to help take care of that wound? I know these can be nasty,”  a strange man said.
    Amelia hid her finger from this man for she knew it would be abnormal for the slightest bit of blood not to come out.
    “No thanks,” Amelia said with a ghostly like voice.
    “Suit yourself, “the strange man said, “I am Victor Crow, by the way.” He gently picked up her hand and kissed it as an introduction.
    She put on her gloves. Amelia wanted to escape  his man’s presence immediately, but  then, she heard a beat.  It was like the drums were beating very lightly, but soon to get louder. Amelia needed for it to get louder. 
    Her eyes quickly lit up, and she smiled at this Victor character.
    “Pleasure!” she exclaimed, “My name is Amelia Verovich.”
    He looked at her in confusion for seconds ago she was this dark character usually found swarming horror stories. Now, she was the complete opposite. Victor found that quite interesting.
    “There is a cozy little tea parlor on the corner of Baker Street. Would you care in accompanying me there?”
    The beating got louder. Amelia nodded as an expression to say yes, and quickly stuffed the rose in her bag.
    The couple strolled down the streets after exiting the flower garden. The sun was beating down rays of heat on their shoulders, but Amelia still remained with her scarf on. She could not feel heat, for heat was for those who belong.
    “Why are you wearing your scarf when it feels like we are going to be roasted pigs soon?” Victor said with a questioning tone.
    Normally, Amelia would huff at a man who said that to her. She was a lady, after all. This time, though, Amelia paid no attention.
    “Now that is a mystery, Mr. Crow,” Amelia responded.
    “I like a girl who is a mystery,” Victor said.
    The beating got even louder.
    Suddenly, Amelia was pulled from Victor, when a man who was not the cleanest of them all, grabbed her.
    He pushed her hair back and said with a maniacal tone of voice , “You should not be here.”
    Amelia was not shocked at that sentence, but she pretended she was.
    “This is London! I am allowed to walk in these streets. How dare you talk to a lady like that?” Amelia exclaimed.
    The old man let out a large cackle. He pulled her face closer to his and whispered in her ear, “No, my dear, I mean this world.”
Amelia backed up, startled. She was not so worried about what the lunatic man just said, but the reaction of Victor. Amelia hoped he did not trust that man.
Amelia quickened her pace. Victor looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but he did not want to mention the incident. He felt like that terrified her enough. Yet, Victor was surprised at how well she handled it. The beating grew louder.
Amelia intertwined her bony fingers with Victor’s and she felt the warmth in his hands. Hers were as cold as her face was when she collapsed. It was as if the night of the winter touched her and and flew away. Soon, though, Amelia’s summer would appear.
They sat at the small beige table in the outdoors of the tea parlor. Amelia felt a clock ticking in her head that went along with the drum beat. It sounded like relaxing music to her. It was a Beethoven symphony she needed to make louder.
“What tea do you want?” Victor asked amelia, politely. He felt like the tea would comfort her from the incident with the crazy man.
Amelia needed to come up with an excuse to not drink tea. She twiddled her hair and bit her lip.
“I’m sorry, I don’t drink tea.”
She knew that she could not drink the tea or it would go right through her.
    “So close...so close….” Amelia thought in her head.
Victor was giving Amelia a peculiar look. She knew that she could not afford him thinking that he could not trust her for the beating would get lower.
    Amelia brushed her bony fingers amongst Victor’s tan cheek and walked him out of the tea parlor. He looked as if he was hypnotized by the vision in front of him.  The beating got louder.
Victor followed Amelia, trotting behind her like a lost puppy. Running in front of him, under the bright light, Amelia seemed translucent. Victor noticed how her raven black hair was dull like the old concrete in the alley ways.
    The pair stopped in front of a house that looked decades old. The color of the home faded and only left a faint touch of what it was.
Amelia unlocked the creaky gate and walked up the path to the door. Victor raised his eyebrow and stared at the abandoned house. He thought Amelia was completely mad to even think about stepping a foot in this house. Amelia turned back and flashed Victor a thin smile.Victor was still reluctant to go ahead, but Amelia’s eyes urged him to take a step further. He slowly drifted up the ancient path leading to the residence. Victor’s eyes flew to “Amelia Verovich,” embedded on the mailbox. Astonishment reached Victor’s head when he thought about how such a lovely maiden could live in a shuddersome home like this.
Amelia unlocked the venerable door and let Victor inside. The house was as cold inside as it was out. The dusty furniture rested against the barren walls and the sound of the mice rubbing their tails against the vases could be heard. Victor felt a pit of fear in his heart. To Amelia, that was just another ingredient of humanity.
    Amelia’s bony fingers intertwined with the sweating palms of Victor and she dragged him to the shredded couch. In the hallway, the floorboards creaked under the pressure of Victor’s feet. Under Amelia’s heels, no sounds were heard.
    Leaving Victor alone in the parlor, Amelia sprinted to the kitchen and fetched the flint and steel. Amelia threw it in and the conflagration of blaze arose like a million stars lighted at once. Victor was mesmerized by the glowing pattern of light in front of him. The heat conjured Victor’s body temperature to rise, so he took of his coat. Amelia did the same, but nevertheless, she kept her scarf on. The fire lit up Amelia’s face and she looked like a vision burning in the flames. The drum in Victor’s heart became a symphony of beats playing in Amelia’s ear. The voice in her head urged, “It’s time. It’s time.”
    Amelia looked directly into Victor’s hazel eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Puzzled, Victor felt his mouth trying to say “why”. There was no time for him to get the words out. For the last time, Amelia touched Victor’s cheek. She felt the warmth that would soon be gone. Amelia stretched out her skeletal arm into Victor’s chest and reached for the beat of the drums, the flames of the fire. She slowly pulled out his most prized possession: his heart.  Victor’s glassy eyes stared into Amelia’s silver ones for the last time, and now, neither eyes had life. Victor’s expression was broken, and the beat of drums was no more.
    Amelia stared at Victor’s corpse. The largest part of him was glowing in her hand. She slowly found the empty hole in her chest, and placed the organ inside. Amelia touched her face and the skin that was once ice was now burning as bright as the fire. The sliver in Amelia’s eyes vanished, replaced by the piercing blue color of the sky.
Amelia pronounced with joy, “I am human.” She took the rose out of her bag and put it in a vase.
Her joy was replaced by the fear of having a decayed body on her carpet.   Amelia’s hand grabbed the arm of Victor and using her newfound strength, she dragged him near the only door that looked animate. Amelia opened the door and slowly descended the stairs, Victor in her arms. The room gave Amelia shivers down her spine. The dried blood on the walls was a reminder that only the dead should be here, so Amelia slumped Victor’s body against the wall and ran. When Amelia got up the stairs, she locked the door, stuffing the key in her purse. Suddenly, a growing pain overtook her. It was coming from her chest. In a matter of minutes, it was gone. Amelia had grown tired after today’s events. Her feet shuffled against the floor, the tiles now creaking under the pressure. She passed the rose, but did not notice that it was wilting.
Amelia jumped from her bed with a startle. The dream of Victor’s lifeless body awoke her. The pain in her chest came back.This time it was stronger. It was as if two sides of a war were ripping her into pieces. After the pain released her, Amelia straightened her scarf and walked out of bed. Amelia stepped outside and felt the sun’s rays embrace her with its gleaming warmth. She was on her way to the town's doctor.
In the waiting room, Amelia examined the faces of the people there. It seemed like countless hours until her name was called. She was about to go in the room when she heard the word,”checkup.” Amelia dashed out the door and into the streets.  Her feet were sliding against the concrete and she did not know where she was going. It was as if fate was pulling her by the hair to a place where she needs to be. When Amelia knew it was time, she stopped in her tracks. She was facing a door that said, “Dr. Dmitri Gorbachov, town’s best psychologist.” She opened the door and walked into a peculiar setting. The waiting room was empty and there were no nurses around. Amelia only saw one glass door with a shadow at the other end of it. Amelia strolled towards the door,and gently twisted the knock on the door.
“Hello, dear. I have been expecting you,” the psychologist said with no doubt in his voice.
Amelia was appalled by this man. She was about to leave when a hand grabbed her. It was the same hand that touched her cold wrists the day before. Dr. Dmitri Gorbachov was the old man.
“You!” Amelia screamed as she dug her wrist out of his grip. The doctor just gave her a small smile.
“Guilt is your answer honey. Your chest hurts because of guilt,” Dmitri expressed to Amelia.
How could he know? This man seemed to know everything about her, but how could he?
“I have no idea what you are babbling here. I came here to see a professional about an incident where I was harassed yesterday. Turns out the professional is the man who harassed me!”
The man left out a gigantic cackle that could have been heard throughout the entire universe. The man’s eyes were silver with madness.
“So, you do not have someone else’s heart inside of you, the guilt eating away at your soul?”
Amelia remained silent. The pain struck her once more. She collapsed on the ground and only saw the innocent hazel eyes of Victor. Her breathing got louder, almost as loud as the drum beat that once was heard. Over all the events occurring, Amelia heard Dmitri’s voice commanding, “Take off your scarf. Take off your scarf.”
Amelia galloped through the door, the pain still in her chest. She tumbled down on the sidewalk. Amelia then lifted her traumatized head up only to see a sign that said, “Victor Crow. Age: 22. Missing. If you have seen him, please contact Mrs. Crow at the police station.”
Amelia felt something wet on her hand, the dampness of her own tears. As a human, she could now cry, but were her actions now naming her as a human?
Amelia knew what to do. She arose and strolled back to her residence. The tears no longer streamed down her face.
There was one flame still lighting in the fire, Amelia knew that soon this flame that continued to burn would disappear like all things should. Her eyes redirected to the vase where she put the rose. It was now fully wilted and the red on it was just a memory.
Amelia dug out her key to the cellar. She unlocked the door and quietly walked down the stairs. Amelia did not have the pain attacks anymore because she acknowledged her guilt and wrong-doing. Amelia killed a man to be human. She tried so hard to be human that she completed an action that made her the opposite: a monster.
There was a broken mirror in the cellar. Due to the mirror’s cracks, she saw herself for what she truly was: a broken soul not meant to walk the planet.
Amelia looked down at her scarf. This once was the only thing that put her in the middle of life and death. Now, the middle was gone.
Amelia slowly started unraveling her scarf.  She felt the itchy fabric underneath her skin. Amelia took one last glance at the lifeless corpse lying, motionless. Amelia stared at herself in the mirror, knowing that this would be how she remembered herself. As the one last knot in the scarf was left to be untied, Amelia took a deep breath. Slowly, her bony fingers went through the knot and the scarf fell down. Her head tipped sideways, and her heart stopped. Amelia’s vision blurred, and her silver eyes rolled backwards. Amelia’s head fell to the floor with a thump, landing next to Victor’s chest.