Quam Amoena

By: Suffocated Entity

She was choking.

On her own blood.

From all her screaming.

She felt as if she would drown; drown in her own blood as it oozed down her throat, pooling slowly in her stomach. The nausea washed over her, the bile rising up in her airway. The raw tears pricked at her swollen eyes.

She wanted to stop screaming, she really did. Every time another one broke through her bloodied lips, her cracked throat reopened a new wound and started to spill crimson liquid down her passage. She was crying, she wanted it to stop, but the scene before herself made it utterly impossible.

More and more blood was going down her stained windpipe, making her need to empty the contents of her stomach.

So she did. All over his body.

She was gasping heavily, her eyelids shut tight as her body convulsed. The energy had left her, bring her to her knees beside him. When she opened her eyes and saw her vomit mixed with the blood from his own wounds, she retched for a second time.

The smell of blood and spew diffused around the room; its thick essence suffocating to her. She tried to hold her breath, to avoid the stench, but her need for oxygen prevailed as she wheezed in.

Her screaming continued, her eyes wide with fright.

This was not happening.

It was not true.

It couldn't be true.

He couldn't be dead.

He just couldn't be, but he was.

The way his corpse was splayed on the dirtied wood-flooring, the gaping hole where his heart should have, the absolute glazed look of his own eyes; there was no way he could be alive.

Clutching her hair, she ripped countless strands out as she went on with her screaming. He could have been alive right now, possibly holding her in his strong arms.

That now was no longer possible; she had killed him after all.

It was an accident.

She was terrified. Minutes before, she was with his cousin. His cousin was aggravating; she was jealous of her. She had been able to tolerate her for weeks, even months, but she had finally reached her breaking point and snapped.

She had used her arms to slice her head off in one clean cut, and he saw her do it.

He had been furious at her; he was fearful, hysterical, and even murderous. He had taken out a gun and threatened to kill her.

She was petrified, he had attempted to harm her. In her terror, her defense, she plunged all her arms into his chest. She got him before he could get her.

Now, he was dead. His gun laying next to his open palm, the shiny metal glaring at her.

Her eyes soon lost their vibrance; she stopped screaming, and her body went slack. Her voice was gone, it was destroyed with her blood-curdling pleas.

Grabbing the gun, she held it up to her forehead and closed her eyes. With her finger on the trigger, a sick smile rose to the surface.

Quam sancta.

Quam serena.

Quam benigma.

Quam amoena.

"Kohta..."

Pulling the trigger, her insides blew out the back of her skull, splattering on the floor. She collapsed backwards, falling into her own entrails, the smile still on her face. She was dead.

He probably was in a wonderful place right now, his every wish being granted without hesitation, he had deserved it.

She wouldn't be with him though.

She was going somewhere else; a place where nightmares were reality and suffering was absolute.

She had earned her fate, hell was the only place a tainted lily could bloom.

END