Blood.

Blood was the only thing I could see.

Dripping from the wounds on my chest. Staining my shoes and the hem of my dress. Pouring from the corpses littering the street, and gushing through the gutters in the road. The blood was mixed with the dirty, stagnant rainwater, creating a mixture that smelt worse than the dead bodies around me.

The world was permanently stained red.

And it was all my fault.

All this blood, all this pain, all this death was my fault.

But I have no regrets.

I only have one more step left to my plan.