She’d gladly gouge her own eyes out after seeing what she’d seen.

His body – so bloody and so wrong – stained the happier memories she had of him, tainted her innocent and unknowing mind.

But she wasn’t innocent because she’d killed him.
She wasn’t unknowing because he’d told her he would do it.

As she stared at herself in the mirror she wished she could die.

When she smashed her reflection, a shard of broken glass flew up to her face, cutting her cheek, the blood trickling slowly down like a tear drop.

And she locked away her bloody secret forever.

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