How long did she fall for? She doesn't remember; all she knew was that from now on, she was alone, this time she truly was.
When she woke up, the man's head was lying right next to her. She remembered the words she told him, the words he taught her; she used them against him. She deeply regretted it; that was the feeling she felt, but she didn't understand that concept. There was no one left to teach her about it.
She killed, with her own hands, the only person who truly cared for her, the only person who taught her so many things. She vomited for a long time, a very long time.
Her legs were broken, all she could do was crawl like the garbage she was, the garbage she was named by. She thought at that moment that she truly was a fiend. She grabbed the man's head and held it closely to her while crying down all the tears left in her body; she cried until falling asleep. The only remnant she had left of the man was his head and the gift he gave her, but she knew that his head would only be temporary and that it would rot sooner or later; she was well aware of that. She dared not even glance at the box, even when recalling the memory of the promise she made; she wasn't able to open it. The guilt haunting her, the guilt of killing her own caretaker, was gnawing her from the inside. It was an unbearable pain, one she had never experienced before.
When she woke up in the middle of the night out of hunger and thirst, all that she was able to get was the water from the nearby river; she drank and drank until she was full. There weren't many wild animals coming close to this area, so it was a good thing for Lorelei; if any of them showed up, then it would surely be the end of her. Somewhere in her heart, she believed that it was what she truly yearned for. She looked frail and weak. She had no one to lift her up, a fallen angel that never had the chance to take flight. Every night she cried until her eyes became puffy and her throat sore.
Whenever she looked at the man's head, it reminded her of the tradition that the townsfolk used to do whenever someone would die, make a grave.
She remembered that for it, she must dig deep underground and put the person in there, so she started digging. The soil was hard, very hard. Every time she struck the ground, her hand would collide with the rocks buried underneath. Lorelei dug for hours, with guilt being the only thing pushing her forward to do so. The only sound that reverberated through the forest was the sound of the soil being dug by her and the sound of her cries resonating through the forest's silence.
Her nails broke one by one while digging, yet she kept going bearing through all the pain. She remembered one night when the man once told her that whenever she felt sad to not hold in her tears and cry the pain out, so she did so, she cried a lot, too much.
Her hand was covered in blood and dirt as she kept digging. Her arm grew tired, but she didn't rest; she stayed there digging for two days. Maybe it was a way to apologize for the harsh words emitted towards the man, but it was too late; he was dead, his head was proof of it.
The grave she was trying to make barely progressed; she felt like her bones were crushed from the guard holding her arm too hard; she couldn't afford to lose the last working limb she had.
One night, while she was digging the grave, a fox appeared behind her. At first Lorelei was frightened by it and desperately tried crawling away, but her arm couldn't move anymore. The fox got closer and closer to her, but didn't attack, nor did it show any hostile intentions against Lorelei.
He was wounded on the side of his stomach, Lorelei saw that. The fox then slowly rested next to her as if he didn't think that Lorelei could hurt him. She was powerless, frail, and weak.
Lorelei got closer to the fox, looking over him as he was sleeping. She then decided to sleep next to him as they both slept under the frightening dark night.