His heart in his hands, blood dripping from the tips of his fingers. His tears flood his face, not a dry spot in sight. The warm crimson liquid drips from his palms to his finger to the cold concrete below the pair. She stares blankly at him, No emotion, No sympathy. The "knife" still in her hand, a slight smirk emerges from her face. His stunned expression, brings joy to her. She plunges the "blade" into his hands, ripping the still beating muscle in his hands apart. Her smile fades as his begins to spread. "My turn" he whispers as he skewers her chest with his "blade"
