From the Ashes

It was at least an hour after her heart had beat for the last time before Mason could bring himself to move. He wanted to remain there forever, cradling her in his arms until she opened her eyes again. That's exactly what he did during that time, until the sound of the bird's morning song indicated that morning was on the horizon. It was only then that he moved, taking Harley with him, and returning to the empty house that he pathetically called home.

Once he'd got there, he went straight to the master bedroom and laid her down on the bed. Her blood had painted his hands red and he hurried into the bathroom, unable to get them under the running tap fast enough. Water slid over his hands and with some scrubbing, the blood washed away. In his mind though, his hands were still stained crimson. He turned the tap hastily, ceasing the flow of water and glanced up at his reflection staring back at him in the mirror that was screwed into the wall.

Anger and hatred bubbled up inside him unti