Nothing frightened her anymore. Melancholy had consumed the place, and the walls had grown darker than her own thoughts. The rose in her delicate hands had already withered. She tried everything to keep it alive, but water was never enough to restore the vivid red of its petals.
Raindrops began to run through her lifeless blonde hair. It was as lifeless as those lying around her; not a single drop of blood flowed through their veins.
It was all over, and she thought that this would be a fitting end. Her tears blended with the rain, and she drank every drop of the crimson liquid left behind.
The gleaming metal met the softness of the lily's petals, and the lily, too, withered. At last, the lily could rest in peace for all eternity, and nothing could ever change what had been done.