Emptiness

As far as I know it was me! Curse of the Virgin canvas

He woke up without opening his eyes. He was warm and comfortable, and he could sense the sun's warm ray reflecting from his mirror to his closed eyes. What a perfect morning for such a perfect day! He dared not move until Annabel woke up, he did not want to wake her up on his own. He would wait for her to wake up, and for her to wake him up. He would let her rest today, he would do everything for her that she did for him. Of course that wasn't hard as he was doing it for her. He would make her breakfast and let her eat it in bed, they would take a picnic and he would offer one of his best paintings to her. He would do this because today was special. Today was the day he would ask her for something very special. But....... she hadn't moved since he woke up. Normally she would be up by now, to do some chores. If she didn't wake up soon they would be late to the arrangements he had made. He had set up the entire day for her. He decided he should wake her instead. She probably wouldn't mind. He shifted in bed to where the sun light came through the window and rested on his Annabel, his true love. She was on her side, and he placed a hand on her shoulder, cold? So that he could gently shake her awake. As he did so he noticed the smell. How did he not notice it before? He would have gotten somewhat used to it as he slept he supposed. Was it rotten? Hmm, not quite he thought. Iron, like blood. Blood?! But that can't be, such a powerful scent would require a lot of blood, was he dead? Was he imagining this? He sat up and quickly turned Annabel around with his hand on her cold shoulder. He noticed his hand on her... it was bloody!
"This must be a dream! It must be!" Cradling her, he said this to himself outloud as it continued to scream in his head. His eyes glazed and now he couldn't quite tell if the screaming he heard was real or still swimming in his head. He saw the blood, he saw her open eyes that he would close as he brushed his hand over cheek to move a strand of hair. All he thought of though, was how hard it would be to wash the blood out of their clothes and sheets. he snapped to a reasonable part of himself. Why would he need to wash the blood out? Wouldn't the cops do something with them? He had no reason to act guilty, it's not like he was the one who killed her..... right? He was in the bathroom when he came to himself and his mind cleared somewhat. Running his hands through the warm water coming from the sink, watching the blood mix with the water and fall down the drain. The water cleared, but his hands were still red, and he jumped back as he realized the water was too hot. He studied his burning hands before cleaning them on a towel and walking out, leaving the faucet running. To the right and down the hall, his eyes avoiding the only room on the left, the room Annabel was still in. He felt a little sick as he continued wondering and trying to piece everything together. Was it him? Who really killed her? He made two cups of coffee and scrambled eggs with bacon, setting them on the table and waiting for when Annabel would come out of the bathroom. But she's not coming! Something in his head said as he attempted to suppress a scream he wasn't sure came from him. He quickly left the kitchen without eating, to sit in the living room with his coffee and continue wondering.