There is blood soaking into the front of my lavender dress.
I've never quite handled death rationally.
For the second time in my life, I watch blood run along the tiles, and lifeless eyes stare back at me.
They had been a rich, warm brown. Kind. Full of admiration and something more intense. They would crinkle when I said something he thought funny. They would darken with barely restrained violence when I got mistreated. And they would brighten on the rare occasions that I genuinely laughed.
Gone.
My body shakes with tears as I scoop the wet organ, crushed to a pulp on the ground, and try to put it back where it belongs. But it won't stop slipping.
"You don't fuck the guard."
I should've listened.
Ruin may have landed the killing blow, but I set it into motion the second I asked him to kiss me. I should've let him go. I should've—
A rough hand grabs me by my wrist, yanking me off the ground beside Constantine's body.
