She lays on the hard cold bathroom floor, eyes open, examining the intricate vintage tile work that once made them fall in love with their home.
She flashes back to when it began and how it was lost. The first time she felt his embrace, the last time she kissed his beautiful face.
He once said he never knew home until he had her. That her love was his saving grace, all the meanwhile the demons begged him to take another taste.
Her love was a force unlike most, but it couldn’t save him. She knew the truth. Right when it went dark, but fighting for the ones she loves is the best part of her heart.
She was not the heroin of his tale. Her love couldn’t be drawn into a needle or injected directly into his veins.
She suited up for battle like a soldier of love. Her armor was well thought out and researched with love. Her sword was sharp, her hopes were high. She was prepared to fight for her love.
She had no clue of the beast she was up against. Faced with the depths of hell and fury she fought like the warrior goddess princess she was.
Battered beaten and bruised she wiped the blood from her head and tried to compose an another strategy.
Right at that moment the beast delivered it’s final fatal blow. Instantly her love fell to the ground and took his last breath.
The beast that haunted him for so long finally won.
She dropped to her knees and let out an agonizing blood-curdling scream. In that moment, she was faced with the true reality that she was not the heroine of his tale.