She had a strange feeling that something was behind her. Dark street corners stayed clear and her mind was foggy for she had a little too much to drink. Turned down too many beds to sleep in that night, she always preferred her home. Weird how your mind can echo footsteps when its spinning, she almost thought they were her own.
He always loved the color red and her lips were a perfect shade of burgundy under the street lights. Crimson whispers covered her ears as he mentions shades of daisies. Tells her they'd look great spread across her bed. Smeared between her legs. Tells her he can show her gardens of consent, she forgets about her own.
Waits for sheets to swallow her whole but heavy hands are all that do. Neck stained with finger prints, wrists were cut stems, by the time he was done picking flowers, everything was just a little..Red.