'She awoke and stared at the wilting roses in front of her. The last thing she had remembered was the red hot pain of a knife in her shoulder, then a flash of red. Now, that false lover was about again. She could sense him. She smiled in her own way; it was both malicious but held the beauty it had in life. She would not go alone to the grave.'
Arms are a bit out of proportion, but, such is life I guess.