• And he sat and watched her sleep.

    She was so beautiful. So PERFECT. It was difficult for him to believe the kind of life she led. Her hair was feathery, and a violent shade of violet. Her eyes, when they were open, where a multi-shaded hue of green and blue. When she spoke, her voice was equal to that of an angel in Paradise. She was PERFECT. And until she had seen him, she had been peaceful. But when her eyes had caught him, she had become irrational. He leapt in and seized her wrists in an effort to stay her reaction to his watching, but instead she thrashed against his hold violently. He tried to calm her, to soothe her with his words, but with each breath she became more distressed. He hated seeing her this way. Hated how her eyes clouded over and turned a deep gray with her fear. This was not how she was meant to be. She was supposed to be calm and quiet. PERFECT. In her state of raw hatred, she managed to wrench partially free and draw blood. It was then that he decided he would force her to be peaceful again. And it was now why she lay still, and beautiful. Even with the sash around her neck, she was the embodiment of Perfection. He didn't mind that her chest didn't rise or fall, or that her eyelids didn't flutter. All that mattered was that she would be Eternally Perfect.

    And he sat and watched her sleep.