//------------------------------//
// Chapter 7 
// Story: Lucia di Lammermoor 
// by cierragp 
//------------------------------//


She wanders the ballroom, covered in blood, wiping the remaining fluid off a thin silver dagger. The guests turn in astonishment, expensive glasses of wine and champagne toppling to the ground as they stare at her ragged mane, her bloodied chemise, and most of all, her hazy, unfocused eyes
~~~



She enters the martial chamber with Blueblood. 

Blueblood was drunk. As soon as the doors were close, he tears at her corset and skirt and she hides. He soon finds her again. She throws a vase at him, only further enraging him.

She would not let him take her. 

Frantic, she reaches for the dagger hidden in her chemise. She finds it, and plunges it towards his heart. It doesn't hit the target. It goes left, hitting a shoulder.

He cries out in pain. She cries too. She plunges the dagger into him again and again, until his chest is a bloody mess. 

She wipes the dagger on the chemise. It stains and cuts a thin line. She pushes open the door violently and is relived when she sees the yellow floor.

The guests are in shock. Was that Fluttershy? Sweet, kind and compassionate Fluttershy was unrecognizable. The mare standing before them had a tousled mane, bloodied clothes and coat, and a frighteningly empty look in her eyes. 

And she begins to sing. She wipes the blood again and again, and she wipes her hooves on the cold floors again and again.

Her voice was mellow, sweet. She sang of love. She sang of warmth. She sang of their meetings. She holds her hooves tight to her chest and imagined a lover's soft embrace. 

She wandered the balcony overlooking the ballroom. She runs her hooves across the delicate iron rails, and descended quickly as she stepped and slipped on the blood. She embraces the edges of a tablecloth.

But suddenly a change takes over her. Her voice is frantic, her notes are filled with rage, and the story she tells is warped and unintelligible. She sees things. She chases a ghost that was never there.

Then Zephyr realizes what happened. He motions for a doctor to be called. 

Her voice becomes more frantic and soft and she sobs the last refrain of a song. She cries out for someone to save her, yet none do. She throws and tramples the dagger the same way her lover did with their rings. The hem of her dress was now stained with both her own blood and Blueblood's. 

The dagger is left alone. She pursues the feather atop the head of a noble, and pulls it away. 

Soon Zephyr returns. They have not inserted a needle into her arm, but yet a peacefulness comes over her and she falls to the ground softly, crumpling on top her bloody garments. Her eyes close, and her hooves drop. 

She was dead.