Too Late He knocked on the hardwood door. "Izabella? It's just me, David. Can I come in?" There was no reply, just defining silence. He knocked again, but like before, there was still no answer. David flung open the door, knowing immediately that something wasn't right. Izabella lay there, on the cold floor, motionless. Blood dripping off of her crimson colored wrists. He sank to his knees and held her as hot tears streamed down his face. "I'm too late," he whispered quietly to himself. He held her in his arms as he shook uncontrollably. Blood pooling beneath them both.
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