Silent trees

Three lines. Oozing, red and weeping, seeping out the stories as they embraced her left breast and protruding right hip bone, jaggard stripes of raised flesh. Thre triangular mark of her slayer was etched into the pale,white flesh of her stomack.
Elbow bent a bruised, arm extended, reaching for something to hold on to in her last reathing moments. Dried blood and rotting skin was trapped beneath her spilnter-struck fingernails, proof of a feeble attack, and an unproffessional assassin.
Glass lay in glistening sunlight, somewhere in the midst of her travels had she aquired the shards in her hands and feet.
Throat slid, hand clutching pathetically at the gaping wound, wishing to restore breath to her choking state, blood spatter making filthy patterns, yet somehow beautiful in a twisted fashion, across her chest, arms, face. Golden curls tangled in a blood-stained mess. Legs splaid wide open to the point of splitting her blood-smeared cunt open.
Her fragile, naked body lay undisturbed amongst the piles of leaves. She would rest here forever, for the silent trees told no secrets.
Are you satisfied, you gore hungry whore? Do you wish you could've heard those famous last words, that eery, tortured scream that escaped her maw in those last dying moments of her miserable life? Do you wish you could've seen some sick fuck ravage and brutalize her pretty little ass? Are you saddened that you didn't get to see the mortified look on her face as her eyes glazed over, eyes locked on his the entire episode?
Her spine is still intact, it was never removed from her body and used to skewer her, fuck her, destroy her. No limbs were removed, and her eyes were never gauged out, no pliers, chainsaws or machetes involved.
It was a little hunting knife that ended her.
Her slayer was consumed by the crimson as it flew from her cut jugular at him in rage. He was satisfies, he would drink of it, bathe in it, take a picture to get himself of to in the future.
But you already know this didn't happen. You already know who he was and what exactly he did to her. I'm so sorry it wasn't a random killing, a sick, perverted fuck on the lose, but there was a story behind all this.
You do not care for the story, you're in it for the blood, you blood-lusting mongrel!
But alas, you know how the story goes.
For you were the killer, and you were the victim. A little battle between two lovers, your other half. You've a taste for suicide, my friend.