The blade cut across guts. Liver, stomach, bile duct. Blood oozed. Blood leaked. Blood poured. All forgiving, hiding the crimes of yesteryear with its leisurely flow. Washing away sins committed in the sands of time. No hurry. All the time in the world at its disposal. He wiped the blade on her shirt and stood back, allowing the body to slowly slide to the ground. A streak of red marked its progress.
His knife was stained.
“On thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before.”
His hands were stained.
“Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red.”
His heart…where was it?
They took it away. They took away his childhood. They took away his innocence. They took away all the beauty of the world. They took away his heart. They cut it out from deep within his barely breathing body and they left a hole inside. Empty and hollow. A hole he had been trying to fill for the past twenty years.
He looked down at the bleeding corpse at his feet. Her dress was soaked in blood. A little trickle made its way out of her mouth. Such beauty. He looked down at the orphan waif. Tattered rags for a dress. Palms scratched and torn. Such innocence. He looked down. She was smiling. In death she found peace. He looked down till he could bear it no more. And then he walked away, the hole where his heart was to be, a little less empty.
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