Echoes wander the hallways deep. I stand at the red door, when I should be asleep.
I can hear her say, in the hollows of my mind:
“Sister, sister, sister dear. Don’t you know that love is nothing to fear?”
Below the door, wet crimson fingers reach, seeping, shining, staining all.
I slip the key into the lock, hear its cheery tumble cry as if to mock:
Red door and matching puddle, the smell of death none too subtle.
I step inside. A room of shrouded edges and haunting violence.
“Sister, sister, my dearest one. Why didn’t you listen when I said you should run?”
There she lies, alabaster beauty on her marital sheets and bridal veil.
I touch her cheekbone, I want to feel her though I know I’m alone.
Her corpse, her flesh, her fleeting warmth.
He took the one thing that mattered most.