Honor is washed with blood

          The people that you love are the ones that can hurt you the most. I never realized

how true that was. His body lay motionless on the floor, his eyes staring up at the

sky. In one swift motion I took the knife from his chest. The blood dripped from the

knife to the white marble floor, leaving a trail as I walked away. I slowly walked up

the spiral staircase, the knife clutched tightly in my hand. I felt no pity, no regret. I

was not scared, I was not sad. I only felt a stronger love for him than I ever had. I

knew that I would be joining him after all. And he would forgive me. He always did.

          I took my clothes off, leaving them in a heap on the floor. I turned on the

water in the shower. I cleaned his blood off my hands, my hair, my face. Would I

regret this later? I wondered. No, I knew I wouldn’t. I had never been so sure of

anything in my life. He had to die, it was everyone’s destiny after all. Sooner or

later, what was the difference? I was going to die too, I knew that. And it was not

going to be long before I did.

          That night I didn’t bother to clean up. He was still sprawled on the floor

when I woke up the following morning. The trail of blood was still there, on the

marble floor. I approached his body and stared at it for a long time. His upturned

eyes were still staring at the sky, as if asking for forgiveness. Forgiveness for all the

pain he had caused me, for all the sins he had committed.

          Slowly, meticulously, I cleaned the house. I rinsed the blood off the

floors and off the walls. I dragged his body out the back door and left him out in the

street. Someone would find him soon enough. I packed a suitcase with my few

belongings, and I grabbed the few hundred dollars we kept under the mattress. I

locked the front door as I left the house and strolled off down the streets of the city.

          Honour is washed with blood, they say. That is all I did. The one thing

that I had when I met him, he had broken. And though for some time it did not

matter to me, he had gone too far. And yes, I loved him more than anything in the

world, and it was because of that love that I had to do what I did. He had to die in

order for my love for him to live.