Crimson

Word Count: 292

Long, slow.

I had no idea where I was headed, but that didn't matter now. The wind was blowing forcefully, but not enough for me to notice. I wasn't noticing much of my surroundings anymore. My long, brown hair was swaying softly.

My name? I didn't care enough to remember. I didn't care about anything. All that I loved and cared for had been ripped away from me. My once white dress, now heavily soaked with blood, was bouncing just above my knees. His dull, rose-red eyes no longer laughed with the spark of life. His head swung lightly with every step I took, occasionally tapping against my leg.

I was tired, so incredibly tired. I knew I needed to get away. Get away from the blood, the tears, the screams, my screams. I wanted to forget. I needed to forget the look on the pink-haired psychopath's face, the protests the blue-eyed boy had screamed, all of it. The way his head went flying, the way he continued towards the boy.

I screamed, I yelled, I caught his head. I fell to my knees, I broke down, he died. He had died. Everything I cared about was taken from me because he was taken from me.

All I had left was the feeling of aching in my bare feet and heart. All I could feel was pain and the soft locks of his snow-white hair between my fingers.

If I could stay with this part of him forever then it would be enough for me to continue on until the end of the world, to continue walking towards nothing and everything. As long as I had what was left of him, my steps would be long and slow.