She was always beautiful. Even in death, her cold touch was soothing to my soul. Whenever I felt the urge to take the blade and end my life with it, I heard her gentle voice asking me to stop. I've been sitting in this palace of the dead for so long... that I swear it's heaven. I've grown so fond of it all. The darkness. The gray. The death. It's all so peaceful to me now. Then a force brings me back to life. The sadness for my lost Mary. Why does she retain her beauty? Why is she still so fair? Even after the alleged man who killed her had been caught, I felt no satisfaction. I long to be with her again. But the black robe of death refuses to meet with me. It refuses to come. Do I have it in myself to end it? Can I take the blade that ended my love's life and finish mine too? I would glad