The walk took forever, but it was worth it as they reached an open field far outside the city. On the far side stood a weeping willow, the hanging branches swaying in the breeze brushing lightly against the stream that trickled around its base. When they were small, the land was dry and barren, but because of her, Dahlia, she cultivated the earth to now have her own secret garden filled with the flowers that share her name.

He glanced at the pink and white starburst of petals basking in the sunlight against the backdrop of a bright blue sky. She ran into the field; this was her sanctuary, her home, and wherever she was that was his home too. She cupped a flower or two in her hands admiring each and every single one, taking in the full site with wide amber eyes.

"Isn't this the most wonderful place?" Her smile was the beauty that made the flowers pale in comparison. He gently smiled and plucked the one closest to his reach, twisting it around in his fingers. He approached her slowly, brushing her ebony hair away from her face before placing the flower to keep it held back.

"Nowhere else has ever come close to being this perfect." He set down the picnic basket he had carried all the way out here. He made them a surprise lunch for it was always an occasion to be in this field. "Now let me set up, go do your thing."

Dahlia wrapped her arms around him tightly before dashing off towards the stream, yanking off her shoes and socks along the way, not noticing his face dropping in shame. She jumped into the crisp cool water yelping a little as she hadn't anticipated the cold temperature. He cast his gaze to the way they had come, thinking about the city they came from. How their world has been in shambles since the day they were born, growing up in a world that was broken beyond repair. She would always smile and believed they could take it on together.

He heard a splash and swiftly turned to see Dahlia sitting in the stream her clothes soaking wet. She was not concerned about slipping and falling into the water. Laughing heartily, "I'm okay!" Worry faded from his face, if he worried, she would too.

A red and white checker print cloth was neatly folded in the wicker basket. He whipped it out, letting the breeze catch in the fabric. The cloth unraveled and billowed so that he could lay it on the ground with ease. He unpacked sandwiches, chips, fruit, and some sweets from the basket.

Dahlia skipped over to him, upon her head a crown of flowers woven together tightly. "Oh, my love. I'm always overjoyed when we venture back here! You always know how to make my day!" She sat next to him; her clothes still damp from the stream. Despite that, he pulled her closer so that she was now comfortably placed in his lap.

"A drink, my darling?" He asked with a charmed smile, pulling out a bottle of rum chata. Her eyes widened at the sight of the rather large bottle.

"With lunch? Isn't it a bit sweet for sandwiches?" She grabbed the bottle and examined it, "Oh you shouldn't have this is expensive you know!"

"Yes, but it is your favorite, and I want this moment to be perfect for you."

Dahlia buried her face into his chest pulling herself close; he held her tightly etching the moment into his memory so he would never forget it. She pulled away, trying to wipe away tears and she beamed at him with unyielding infatuation and love.

"Now, before some of the food spoils," he prompted her grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. He wasn't hungry. Actually, he couldn't bare to stomach anything, but she was in the moment, he didn't want to spoil it.

She munched happily on the snacks he had packed; everything was her favorite. She clambered on watching the sky, telling him wonderful stories and tales. She leaned against him wanting to be as close as possible.

The sky faded to shades of reds and golds; the food was all gone, and the rum chata had been consumed. They laid in that spot for a long time, and he wished it was longer.

He leaned up, pulling her up with him. "Dahlia, I want you to close your eyes." She tilted her head confused but complied. He reached into the basket, grabbing the last item it contained. "You have been the only thing in my life that I have ever loved." She giggled her hopes heightening, as her imagination ran wild. "I'm... not the strongest man. Please forgive me." He leaned forward and pressed his lips delicately against hers. They were soft as flower petals and warm as the sunlight. He reached an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She gasped, and he drew away, her eyes wide with shock and face in awe.

He looked at her with a face masked in stone cold hardness. His grip tightened around the handle of a large knife, his hand stained red as blood spewed out from where he lodged it into her. He felt her fading in his arms, slowly as her eyelids became heavier as she fought to keep them open. She grew limp in his embrace as the life in her seeped out.

"Dahlia, forgive me. You will never have to suffer again; now there is nothing else this world can hurt me with. You were my only weakness, Dahlia. You made me weak because I cannot protect you. I am weak because I'll never be able to protect you, but now I don't have to anymore."

Dahlia used the last of her strength to place her hand against his cheek, her face void of all the joy and happiness she held before. "Isn't this the most wonderful place... It's wonderful because," Her voice faltered to being barely a whisper, "this is where I met the love of my life." In the next moment she was gone.

He stared into her vacant eyes, the girl he knew and fell in love with vanished leaving an empty shell behind. He held her closely, tightly, refusing to let go to the point he was shaking uncontrollably. He spared her a life filled with pain, sacrificing her to prevent him from feeling this pain ever again. While all the good memories he will remember till he dies, this image of a lifeless Dahlia will haunt him every night till the end of time.

He carried her to the middle of the field of flowers and laid her down. He then unearthed a shovel he had buried before their arrival today. "This is the most wonderful place, the perfect place for you to rest eternally." He dug a proper grave depth, and lowered her into it, placing a bouquet of dahlias in her hands interlocking her fingers around the stems.

"I love you, Dahlia." He filled the grave and knelt down in front of it, "I'll be back to tend the flowers, don't you worry about them." He stood up and stared in horror.

The dahlias that had been pink and white turned to a crimson red. The color slick as blood that dripped off the petals into the stream contaminating it and overrunning the water so that it was a river of blood instead.

He bolted, leaving everything behind. The moon began to rise casting shadows as he dashed through the trees. The eerily red moon turned normal shadows into haunting figures and distorted shapes. He ran as far as he could as long as he could. He quickly grew tired and turned to see if anything followed, he stared at the willow tree.

Fear sank his heart to his stomach as he was standing back in the middle of the field, the blood moon directly above him, and surrounded by the crimson dahlias. A cold chill ran up his spine as he suddenly felt her presence behind him.

Dahlia snaked her arms around him to embrace him. "I love you too." His heart skipped a beat, and an invisible force flung him into the tree. The vines slithered around him to bind him to the trunk and held him still.

Paralyzing terror ran through him; he could only watch unblinkingly as she glided closer. The moonlight illuminated her as the flowers in her hand began to wither and dry up into a husk of stems. Then it decayed into ash leaving only the knife he had previously plunged into her. She flung it straight into his heart.

"Now, you will never live your life in pain." She faded away as the red color of the moon turned white. He felt a numbness growing from where he now had a knife plunged into him; it quickly spread throughout his body till he was vacantly staring out into the world unseeing. He closed his eyes and let life slip away from his grasp.