The rain and the blood begin to mingle. For a few nanoseconds they resist each other. When it becomes impossible for the two to keep apart the fresh blood and rain become one.

She watches closely (she always does) as the blood and rain drip from her arms to the ground. I wonder whets going on in her head. In my imagination I like to think she compares the rain erasing the blood to God forgiving her, clearing her of the guilt she’s supposed to have. The guilt she’s still trying to convince herself she feels.

The blood continues to disappear until it no longer apart of her skin. Yet she continues to stand there. She’s listening… and watching. She knows I’m here, knows she’s being watched.

Sometimes when I’m at home watching the tapes over and over again I fantasize about revealing myself to her. Would she welcome the intrusion? I believe she would. She knows I’m watching and yet she does nothing to stop me. She simply watches and listens. Her way of making sure I’m there, making sure I haven’t lost interest.

For a long time she stares in my exact location. Thankfully I’m close enough to still be able to make out her face through the rain.

I feel like her blue eyes are speaking to me. Maybe I’m not the only one who fantasizes. Maybe she fantasizes about seeking me out as much as I fantasize about revealing myself.

But this night, it isn’t right. It’s not the time, nor the place. She understands this just as well as I.

I keep the lens of the camera focused on her as she exits down the dark alley and back to the main road.

Once she’s gone I lean further into the shadows and shut the camera off. I figure giving her a small head start won’t hurt.

I sigh in what I’d like to call depression. My night is almost over. Once I drive pass her house to ensure that her car is there and that she has made it safely inside I’ll return to my casa knowing that it’ll be another ten and a half hours until I’m  able to see her again…

~

Continue?