He sat in the chair in the corner farthest from the bed. The moonlight shown through the window, bringing light to his new masterpiece that lay upon the bed. He grinned, hearing her gasp for air, like a fish out of water. Standing up he walked over to the side, his eyes taking in the beautiful sight. The once snow white sheets soaked in fresh blood, her pale form starting to shake from the loss of blood, the perfect cut across her slender neck. He chuckled, as he sat down beside her. It was perfect…but something was missing. He felt that he could have done better with this one, but then again artists were usually their worst critics. Placing his hand over her throat, the warm blood pumping through his fingers, he brought his face close to hers. Her lips moved but only the sound of her blood bubbling in the back of her throat came out. He kissed those full lips, getting a taste of that crimson liquid before reaching over for his tool to finish the job. His fingers found nothing but blood soaked sheets, eyes widen as he caught the glimmer of the blade. Too slow, too late. The blade pierced through his skin and ruptured the wall of his heart, making a sick cracking sound. He stared down as she held the blade to his chest, her lips forming into a twisted smile, painted with blood. He couldn’t help but smile back, falling beside her on the bed of death. Taking her cold hand, he closed his eyes and spoke in a whisper to her. “See this is why I fell in love with you….”