I’m covered in it. The blood, it’s covering everything. It’s dripping from my fingers, staining my palms, oozing down my arm. It’s so warm and thick, such a brilliant shade of red. I know where it’s coming from and it’s not mine. It’s his. I’ve killed him.
Please believe me when I say this is the worst part of my day, killing the man I love. I put up with a lot of shit on a daily basis but it is nothing compared to this. This act, this murder, this ritualistic killing which I am subjected to – it tears me up inside. My heart breaks, my stomach clenches, my muscles ache. I wish I knew why I did it. I wish I could forget. But as I try not to think about holding the knife, the smooth finish of the handle, the ripping sound his skin makes as I slice into him, I can’t deny what I’ve done. I know that I am to blame.
The guilt that surrounds me is minimal. As unpleasant as this act is, I find comfort in knowing that he will return to me the following day and we can be in love again. In love. Such a state of being that so many take for granted. Such a state of being that so many never get to experience. But I cherish it. I feel all of it. Just as I feel his blood now cooling on my skin, I feel the fluttering anticipation of a new love about to dawn on our lives. Everyday our love begins anew, and everyday it ends this way, him lying on the floor and me lying next to him, covering myself in his blood much like a child would wrap herself in a favorite blanket.
I look at his lifeless body and smile. He’s told me before that he doesn’t mind. He’s told me he doesn’t remember feeling any pain. He doesn’t blame me. Those blue eyes aren’t full of terror or confusion, anger at being killed by the woman he loves and trusts. No, they are calm and peaceful, reassuring and hopeful. He’s looking forward to starting over tomorrow. He knows I’ll be waiting for him and he will find me when he is ready. I pray that our first encounter is early in the day; I do hate it when he makes me wait.
So rest now, dear Sawyer, for I love you more at this moment than you could ever imagine. I shall kiss your lips, still soft and warm just as I shall kiss them tomorrow when you are back by my side, animated and full of life. But for now, I must go. They are telling me it is time for bed. So I’ll leave you and dream of you as I sleep. I’ll walk into my white room, running my fingers over the walls and scribbling our names with your blood. I’ll crawl into bed, staining my sheets with the red reminder of your death. And I’ll remember the way you looked at me, the stars in your eyes when you told me you loved me.
Goodnight, my love. Believe me when I say that I am sorry. Believe me when I say that without you, my world would cease to exist. Believe me when I tell you that everything is going to be fine, everything is going to be better tomorrow. Goodnight. Tomorrow you will find me a changed woman. I won’t be the Sarah who killed you the night before. Tomorrow I will be the Sarah you fell in love with, the Sarah who loves you and cares for you, the Sarah who completes you.
Goodnight. Goodnight. Goodnight.
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