Blood-stained

She stared at her bloodstained hands as she backed away from his body.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, silent tears running down her cheek.

“I’m so sorry!”

She didn’t dare to look back, as she knew it would only make the pain sharper and would eventually kill her. But she couldn’t leave him. The only family she had. A friend. A boyfriend. A husband. Their vows roaring in her head like a lion, ready to tear her apart.

The memories of a lifetime flashed before her eyes, yet she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.

“Why did…” she saw the flash of a knife arcing through the air.

No. Just a shimmer of reflection from a shard of glass – reflecting the room; reflecting him; reflecting her, blood-stained.

by Xanthe Gibbs


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