Thoughts of pure rage and eternal sadism are locked behind penatrating blue eyes, intentions cruel and filled with a darkened sense of immorality. Slowly yet surely it seeps deeper within the heart, consuming all kindness and sympathy that the soul has left to offer. Scaring the mind of the ****** as it fights this curse. Day after day, the haunted shadows creep closer, their fingers outstreched as they attempt to capture her heart and mind. She screams, but the cotton of the pillow poors into her throat muffling her to a soft whimper. Her body pulses, twiching but only in minimal movements. No signs of struggle, but inside she sees it all, the blood, the corpse, the weapon firmly grasped. By the end of this masterpiece, she drops her paintbrush, the blood running down her own body as her eyes open to the soft and warm sheets of the bed.