They would never unravel what had happened. Laying on the table, utterly miserable, her blue eyes surrounded by dripping blood on the old-fashioned rustic chair. Her red lips meerly closed with fear, her scratched face, not at all clear.
Litten with an only canlde, thay were able to distinguish in the dark something written on a peeling wall. An illegible message in leaking red. Terrified, bewildered somebody read: ´Little by little my blood is flowing untill one day there won´t be any left. Will you miss me? I´d like to know´.