She drops to the ground after finishing her morose task. She hurt herself for so long she began to hurt somebody else. It was difficult for her to discern between hatred and love, for they seem the same. The tears in his eyes made her feel nothing. Laying there with blood dripping from her mouth and a bitten heart that she dropped on the ground in front of her. He leans over and kisses her lips soaked with his blood, as his entire body goes limp. Her irises shift from onyx to her natural, striking blue. Shaking, and wide-eyed, she pulled out her needle with dried blood and clean, white thread. She apologizes as she shoves the ***** in its place and poorly sews it back in. She begs for forgiveness, sobbing as she looks into her lover’s beautiful hazel eyes. He can’t hear her anymore. This has happened before. She’ll fall asleep only to wake up in the morning with a new hunger and an excruciating thirst for blood. He won’t let her hurt anybody else. His heart is getting poor circulation, he feels cold. Yet what he has left still beats for her. In his everlasting sleep that he’s drifted into, he still dreams of her, the lioness.