Silent cold atmosphere in this very room.
All I can think of is the night I slaughtered her.
Staring at my murder weapon, that I dropped after I realized I... I killed my precious item...my wife.
An angel from above who died by my uncontrollable hands.
She slept on the white blanket uncomfortably, splattered on her white sheets that is so cold...so freezing that it paralyzed every inch of her body turning a suffocating blueish-purple.
I did this...my sweet goddess of love...
Her fluids stain my hands and clothes...and my emotions.
Murder never felt so confusing.
Guilty I am. Happy I am not.
But good I feel...so good!
NO! I should not feel satisfied but horrified at that crime i committed.
My Snow White, my soft item, stared blankly up at the dark, gloomy sky.
Before my blade sank it's teeth in her soft neck, her crimson liquid poured out on the white snow, tainting it with her poisonous blood.
She breathed from the inside foreshadowing the crime...
In the House of White.