And suddenly, there was death everywhere, not even a single heartbeat in the room. And all I saw was blood. Blood on the floor, blood on the walls, blood on the ceiling. I pulled a half of a fingernail out of my arm, I was numb. Oblivious to all the tears in my flesh and my bruised and broken bones. I walked to the corner of the room, and I made more and more slices, watching the blood roll effortlessly down my stone cold wrist. A woman appeared, and I thought, what a tricky illusion. I kill my fiancé, and her ghost haunts me and taunts me, even as I die. When she picked me up, I realized she was not an illusion, but the blood was, the cuts were, the dead bodies, it was all in my head.
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