Faint purple lines were peeking up from the horizon. The sun was ready to start the day, I was ready to pass out for the next week. It's kind of funny how most American towns are filled with neon and flashy lights. I knew I was getting close to home when the neon died away into porch lights. Luck was finally on my side as I found the secret spot for the doorkey and opened the front door.

The air was still as I walked in. Normally the two windows we have are opened. My hand reached for the light switch and found something wet. The room illuminated and before me was more than I can ever express in words. It was as if a horror film crew had rampaged my living space with their theatre gore. Lines of red smeared upon our moldy yellow walls, glass shatterings aimed at delicate places, furniture fluff was strewn about. Not one item lay intact.

Bobbie....

I was forced to walk slowly through the chaos. The smell I've only heard of in newpaper articles and movies lingered, filling me with dread.

Oh god, no....

And there she was... strewn about on her favorite bed sheets. Her skin stained the same color as the fabric, as if it melded into her. I rushed to her, checking her pulse, pulling her to me, sobbing. I breathed in her hair, it smelled of blood. Her life drenched my clothes, her breath gone, her eyes vacant.

What do you do in situations like these? I knew that if she were ever gone, I wouldn't live long after. She has been the love of my life, my whole life. My Bobbie...

How does one handle this?