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Happy V-day cocksuckers! <3 I think I've lost my mind....

He walked down the street, a bouquet of bloody roses in hand. The full moon glimmering upon the ice covered surface. He makes his way to a tall metal fence and begins to climb. Fog covered tombstones lay in front of a dark, dense forest. He walks calmly between the isles, his eyes filled with excitement. A demonic grin overpowering his cheeks, he turns to stop in front of a grave. A bloodstained nightgown lay beneath the headstone; he gazes down upon the white and red material. Now kneeling beside the dress, the man places his fingers on the fresh stain. The warm blood transferred onto his fingertips, he moves them to his nose and smells. Sighing a little, the man seems pleased as to the scent he has encountered. A twig snaps from the forest ahead and the man stumbles to his feet, dropping the roses upon the dress. A phantasmal apparition of a woman strides out from beneath the sheltering trees. Her angelic gold hair lay just past her breasts. Though as she walked into the light of the moon a crystal tear trickled down her flushed cheeks. The man stood silent and still confused as to what is reality. Stepping backwards as the woman drew closer, he fell over a tombstone. Laying in disbelief on the cold ground, the woman stopped beside him. Looking down at the quivering man, she wiped her tears away from her face. Switching her gaze to the dress and the flowers that lay beneath her headstone, she smiled in sympathy. She began to walk towards the roses, and the man violently jumps to his feet,
“Are you proud of what you did to me?”
The woman asked while picking the roses off the ground.
“I see you never got around to washing my dress... shouldn’t that have been one of the first things you would have thought to do? Or was the smell of my blood too pleasurable for you to get rid of?”
Startled by the woman’s shroud voice, he attempts to say something but comes up with nothing but a not so silent gulp. The woman paces in emotionless steps, her white dress blowing in the cool winter breeze. The leaves on the trees rustling; the only noise keeping the graveyard from utter silence.
“Have you yet rid your freezer of my rotting corpse? Or do you still occasionally enjoy peering in and kissing my frozen cheek?”
The woman, puzzled as to why the man would not reply; she attempted to figure out why he only stood there with an intimidating grin across his face. Looking at him, she felt herself enraged with anger. Taking one more chance at getting the man to speak, she asks a question that has made her dreams perverse since the night she was murdered.
“Why? Of all times, why on Valentine’s Day?’
The question asked seemed to be what the man had been waiting for. Fidgeting with his hands he opened his mouth to speak.
“Valentine’s Day, the day of love...I loved you so much...”
The woman’s face relaxed a little and she urged him on.
“...Love is always shown through a drawing of a heart, or accompanied with the colour red. You told me that you wanted to give me your whole heart... so I took what was rightfully mine. And with that, I saw the purest colour of red, the red that represents love, the red that runs through every vein of your beautiful body. Your blood got all over me, I have never smelt a sweeter scent... it was wonderful...”
The woman stood in complete shock, still holding onto the roses he had brought to place above her grave. Unsure of how to respond, the man continued to speak.

“I bought those white roses for you, on this February 14th; I hope you like them... smell them...”
The woman did as she was told and brought the flowers to her nose.
“Smell good?”
“...They smell nice...”
The sun began to peek over the horizon and a faint ray of light shone down onto the roses. Looking down at the flowers she had been holding, her hands shook and she dropped the roses to the ground. Her hands painted in red.
“I drenched them in my blood last night before I came here. I want you to enjoy the colour and the scent of my blood as much as I enjoy yours.”
The graveyard fell silent, and a tear fell from the woman’s eye. She had agreed that the flowers smelt good... was she as psychotic as he? Without saying a word, the woman turned and disappeared into the depths of the forest. Standing alone again above the woman’s grave, the man picks up the roses. Bringing them to his nose he smells the blood-stained flowers and smiles. Dropping them back onto the cold surface, the man glances towards the forest where the woman had disappeared. Licking his lips he picks up the nightgown and crumples it into a ball and places it in his left palm. Taking one last look at the woman’s tombstone he whispers to the wind.
“Happy Valentine’s Day my love.”