There was blood everywhere. She had lost her head before even being able to realize it. And her body was completely torn up.
But there it was. An almost invisible shape. Walking joyfully around the whole scene. Her soul.
That intrinsic part of every human was right there. As if nothing had happened. It looked like there hadn’t been any sort of happiness before the murder.
She had been killed by the man she loved. He had tortured her, mostly mentally and then picked up an axe (I suppose it’s the manlier weapon) and whacked her head off with no mercy.
But her spirit was there. Rejoicing for the newly acquired freedom.
I think I heard it say: “I knew you were going to do this, you fucking coward. Couldn’t even stab me to death, you impotent son of a bitch.”