ELLIOT

"ROSELLA!" I roared with even more urgency, a sinister premonition assaulting my senses.

I ran toward her scent and then… that suffocating, intense smell of iron.

Before I reached her, I saw her stepping out from the shadow of the trees—her pale skin, trembling lips, and disheveled hair.

My eyes dropped, stunned.

Her hands… her hands clutched the hilt of a weapon, buried deep in her chest.

"NOOOO!" I bellowed, rushing toward her.

She tried to take steps toward me, staggering, stumbling forward.

I caught her midair in my arms; the coldness of her skin clenched my fears. I lifted her immediately, afraid to touch her chest, feeling her life slipping away with each breath.

I sat on the ground, near the precipice, my back to the forest.

"No, no, Rosella, you can't do this to me, you can't! Damn it!" My fingers reached for that damned weapon.

When did this happen? How could I be so careless?

"I… I'm sorry…"

"Don't talk, don't talk, baby, damn it, no, no…" I bent over her dirt-streake