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Fucking Gurathin. Trust my augmented human to manage to find a new way to be deeply annoying. And I can’t even tell him how annoyed I am because then he’ll know I hacked Preservation Medical. Of course he would get some completely fucking unheard of obscure disease; and for some inexplicable reason not tell anyone about it. Not even Ratthi.

Well he is not fucking dying: not on my watch. I just need to figure out how to handle the situation.

I’d realised something was wrong with him when I came back to Preservation after the alien remnant planet shit-show. He had never come out to join us there because of so-called “security issues”. Apparently some companies get a little shirty when ex-spies download entire SecUnits into their brains and steal them. Who knew? Gurathin was what ART referred to as persona non grata (I looked it up—it’s perfect for Gurathin) in the Corporation Rim right now. They have his retinal scans and fingerprints…basically all his biometric data, so he’d be easy for them to identify. Which did explain why I hadn’t seen him in weeks. Not that I cared.

It’s not as if I expected him to act pleased to see me again when I got back to Preservation, either. But since I’d been back he had been acting like a complete asshole. I’m a SecUnit, I can tell when someone is avoiding me—or trying to. He would make excuses and beg off any meetings if I confirmed I’d attend—I wasn’t imagining it, I ran an analysis. 

Whenever we ‘just happened’ to meet in the corridors (the station isn’t exactly huge) he would look incredibly awkward and like he’d rather be anywhere else (and I’ve watched videos of myself, so I know what I’m talking about here). His face would take on an expression which was almost as if he was in pain. He also refused to look at my face. At all. Which was weird. Weird for any human or augmented human, but especially weird for Gurathin. He always used to not look at me directly, but I felt it was because he was doing it because he knew I didn’t like people looking directly at me. And even then I would catch him sneaking glances, looking at me even though he was trying not to.

Now it felt like he didn’t want to look at me—and for some reason than made my organics do unpleasant things.

He also refused my invitations to set up our private feed, and when I tried communicating with him on the normal feed I just got the most perfunctory messages back. 

I couldn’t understand why he was acting like this. So I hacked into Station Security (just a little: I was checking on one of my clients, and anyway Indah will never find out so it’s not like she’s ever going to get upset) and checked his recent behaviour. Which was when I found out about the trips to Medical. So, Gurathin had something wrong with him (yeah that’s not exactly news—but something specific wrong), and it was something to do with his augments.

Recently he had been visiting Medical twice a week for some sort of treatment. I didn’t know anything more about the treatment (ex-spies are good at covering their tracks) other than it took approximately thirty minutes and required a private room and a medical bot and created some sort of waste which was incinerated (I said Gurathin is good at covering his tracks, but not good enough). Oh, and he had scans of his augments performed before and after the “treatment”. 

This had all started shortly after his return from the survey, but originally the treatments had been relatively infrequent. Then after TranRollinHyfa the rate had increased, and finally…

Look, I ran an analysis—and the creepy thing was that the obvious correlation was with how recently he’d had contact with me.

I needed to talk to someone about this, but I needed more data first. So I cosied up to the MedSystem. It was initially seriously wary of my approaches. It’s a MedSystem and I am a SecUnit. It had only really seen me before when I was dropping off injured humans when there had been an incident, or very occasionally visiting for treatment when (to paraphrase Arada) I was the incident. I needed to be clever about this. 

Luckily for me there was a very interesting story arc on Sanctuary Moon which included an unusual medical complaint. So my initial contact was asking a question. It was a dumb question, it was meant to be. If there is one thing being a mutual administrative assistant to (should that be with? I don’t know) ART has taught me: it’s that experts love to tell you when you’re wrong. As I had expected MedSystem was falling over its own processes to explain to me the statistical probability of a de novo mutation in one of a batch of cloned babies. Then, of course, it was curious about how this factored into the plot-line. So we watched some episodes together. This was where the whole plan could have fallen apart, but it turns out Systems can use Units like me to obtain emotional context. It was a lot like watching with ART, only it was much less overbearing.

It wasn’t long before we were bingeing the entirety of seasons 27 & 28 together during its rest periods (yes, even MedSystems get rest periods on Preservation Station). Then it was only natural for me to suggest watching MedCenter Argala. MedCenter Argala isn’t my favourite piece of media, but the MedSystem absolutely devoured it, and soon we got to the episode where the loyal Unit is worried about its owner, who isn’t telling it the truth about ter medical condition. I made sure I emoted heavily in the feed at this point. I pretended I was, like the Unit in the show, desperately worried about one of my clients. Apparently I did a good job because I felt the System’s attention on me. 

I almost felt guilty about how concerned it was, but this deception was all in a good cause. The MedSysyem reminded me of Bharadwaj the way it approached the subject, delicately steering me towards it. When I unburdened myself it didn’t even feel like I was acting. I obviously didn’t tell it about my hacks, just that I’d noticed how sickly Dr Gurathin looked (even more so than usual) and how he was avoiding me, and how I thought it was somehow all my fault.

Afterwards I felt kind of hollow—and when it reached out sympathetically in the feed I felt my face do something which I was very glad no one was around to see. I reached back, and for a while it just held me. When I asked it for help it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

The MedSystem clearly wrestled with considerations of privacy and ethics, but balanced them against the fact I was a trusted affiliated system, that Dr Gurathin was my client and that in MedCenter Argala the failure of the System to tell the ComfortUnit (of course it was a fucking ComfortUnit, SecUnits don’t have feeling for their clients—not like this, or like this was supposed to be) the truth led to a situation which had had the System running a full diagnostic (MedSystems are apparently almost as emotional as Asshole Research Transports). After a few agonizing minutes it sent me a data package. I thanked it profusely, I knew it could feel how genuine my relief was—but I could also feel its concern.

I opened the package and…

What the fuck, Gurathin?

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I was genuinely furious. I sent Gurathin a feed message, ripping straight through all his stupid firewalls—he wasn’t ignoring this.

Gurathin—why are you having flower petals surgically removed from your dataport? And what has it got to do with me?

He was sitting drinking coffee with Ratthi when he got the message, and dropped (almost threw) his coffee cup in surprise; spilling liquid all over the table and himself. Hah! Ratthi looked at him panic-stricken, he glared at one of my drones. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Ratthi practically shouted, I felt sorry for him— but I was only interested in what Gurathin had to say for himself right now.

“It’s SecUnit, Ratthi. It is being intrusively inquisitive about my health. SecUnit,” he addressed the drone he had obviously identified (he apparently hadn’t spotted the other two, or maybe he was just pretending he hadn’t), “my medical records are private, and you have no right to go poking around in them. Please just leave me alone.”

Then he apologised to Ratthi, and got up and stormed off in the direction of his quarters. Okay, at this point I needed to be strategic rather than reactive (or something like that). I reached out again to MedSystem. 

Gurathin was just taking off his coffee stained clothes when I hacked his door and walked into his living area. He was standing in his underwear with one foot still in his trouser leg. He still had his socks on, which somehow made him look even more naked than he was. I was distracted for a moment by the interesting patterns on his skin, and found myself just standing there staring at him. He slowly and deliberately removed the rest of his trousers and then sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. I noticed his nail polish was badly chipped, it looked as if he’d been chewing at it.

From where I was standing I could just make out his dataport, some of his hair had flopped down obscuring it. I resisted the temptation to go over and brush his hair back from it. I knew from his latest scan that there might already be petals poking through—I thought I could see a hint of pink. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” I didn’t like the way my voice sounded.

After a while (43 seconds to be accurate) he lifted his head and rested his hands in his lap. The residential spaces on Preservation are held at a steady temperature which is comfortable if you’re fully dressed—the hairs of the skin on his arms were all standing up on end; I suppressed the urge to get him a blanket or something.   

“SecUnit,” Gurathin’s voice sounded really hard, if I didn’t know better I’d think he hated me, "you've clearly hacked MedSystem and accessed my private medical information. You have also ignored my privacy on the feed, sent drones to spy on me and now broken into my home. I have every right to demand that you leave immediately.” I noticed his hands, which were resting in his lap, were trembling slightly. I also noticed he hadn’t demanded I leave, or even asked me to.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I hated the way my voice sounded, it was whiny and petulant, “I am not going to just let you die.” 

“If you’ve accessed my records you’ll be aware that there is nothing you can do. The only treatment is palliative. SecUnit,” his voice broke slightly, “there is nothing you could have done. There’s nothing anyone can do, that’s why I didn’t tell anyone.”

“You could have them removed, the roots—the mycelia, whatever they’re called! Get them all surgically excised—the MedSystem can do it. It told me it could’ve.” I probably sounded a little desperate because Gurathin actually looked up at me for a moment before quickly looking away.

“If you’ve spoken to the MedSystem you’ll know I can’t do that.” His voice was flat, final.

“You mean you won’t,” I said. 

There was a slightly scary silence. Then Dr Gurathin took a deep breath and spoke, he sounded as if he was having trouble keeping his emotions in check but I wasn’t quite sure (even now) what those emotions were, “SecUnit,” he paused and then said very softly, “Murderbot, is it okay if I call you that?” I nodded stupidly, and sent an assent over the feed, “Murderbot, I can’t have them removed. If I did it would be to remove my feelings; my feelings for you, and I cannot and will not do that. I love you,” I think he thought I was going to interrupt him, perhaps tell him it wasn’t true— because he hurried on, “I am in love with you and I’ve never felt like this before. I have loved people before, I mean I love Mensah and Ratthi…but I’ve never been in love. Not like this. And it’s not your fault, and I am sorry,” his voice softened, “I really am. But it’s also precious to me that I have had the chance to know what this feels like.”

“You have fucking petals sticking out of your augments, Dr Gurathin,” I sounded angry. He looked so pathetic and I wanted to make things better but I was also genuinely enraged— I didn’t have to pretend, “I know you’re in a lot of discomfort, and MedSystem says you’re refusing any analgesia. Will you at least let me help with the pain?”

This seemed to surprise him. Maybe he thought his admitting he was in love with me was going to make me run away from him in disgust? Perhaps my reaction should have surprised me too? My lack of disgust? Weirdly enough, when I’d read MedSystem’s data package on his ‘condition’ a lot of my feelings had been more like…relief. (Like in a show when they pull off a clever plot twist, and suddenly a whole load of things that hadn’t quite made sense suddenly did. Those little glances, the way he sometimes seemed to be smiling at a joke only he understood… ). Yeah,  I’d felt relief: as well as being justifiably furious.

Taking advantage of his confusion I pressed on, “Come to Medical with me, I’ll block the pain like I did before.” Like we did on the survey, I meant. The second time we’d been hardwired together. This would be the fourth time. 

If he agreed to this. 

My plan was reliant on the fact that he was, according to MedSystem, actually in a whole world of pain. You wouldn’t have known it to talk to him or look at him, but then Gurathin’s resting expression is often rather like that. One of my drones was currently sending me visuals, highlighting some of his subtle microexpressions. I should have noticed before, I guess. But his face confuses me. I’ve never been good at reading his emotions there. Perhaps it’s the fact the cells of his skin aren’t uniformly pigmented, making distractingly interesting patterns? 

“You’d do that? Are you sure— I don’t know if this is a good idea…” I interrupted him before he could start talking us out of this.

“Yes, I am sure. Get some clean clothes on,” I made it sound like an order, but a gentle one. I kept finding my attention drawn to images of his back that one of my other drones was sending me: his spine, where the scars from his augment surgeries traced interlocking patterns with his vitiligo. I wanted to catalogue every mark. It was a respite (or something like that) when he dragged on a soft sweater and some loose pants.  

“Okay, Murderbot,” he said my real name tentatively, apparently concerned I’d revoke his permission at any point, “we’ll go to Medical. But don’t think you’re going to change my mind. I will not have the surgery.”

Oh, so he thinks he knows what I have planned. Hah! Dr Gurathin, you are not right; not this time.

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The MedSystem was so pleased to see us both walk through its doors it was positively radiating happiness; I was surprised Gurathin didn’t pick up on it (I thought about the recent scans I’d seen of his augments, I guess all that shit growing through them wasn’t helping his feed sensitivity). It directed us to a suite it had prepared, leading us with a little wheeled medbot. I watched Gurathin’s face as we entered the rooms, his eyebrows did twitch, but just a little. 

It was laid out much like one of the nicer hotels I’ve stayed in, with a display screen and a large bed, and a bathroom off to one side. The bed had what looked like a comfortable chair set up next to it, and on the bedside table there was a jug of water and a glass, and even a bowl of fruit (I imagine the MedSystem had decided a vase of flowers would be tactless). There was also a hardwire. The little medbot was sitting patiently, ready to supply anything else we might require. 

“Do I have to lie down in the bed? I’m not actually an invalid.” 

“Yes you are.” I said, because it was true, “And yes, get onto the bed.” 

He sighed, but did as he was told. Which made my performance reliability rise a couple of points. Then I went and sat down next to the bed.  I was very close to him, and I could tell he was acutely conscious of this too. MedSystem was monitoring his vital signs, and it was almost vibrating with anticipation. I picked up the hardwire. 

He pushed his hair back from his dataport behind his ear, and I finally got a proper look at it. I managed not to wince. There were pale pink, slightly fleshy whorls protruding from the dark grey plastic. I was ready for this.

I put the hardwire back down.

“Dr Gurathin, we need to clear the port first,” as I spoke I moved closer to get a better visual. I could feel Gurathin fighting to resist the urge to pull away from me. I spoke over the feed, creating a private workspace for us (I included MedSystem—it was involved), Gurathin, it’s okay—I want to do this for you.

He accepted the message, letting down all the feed defences he’d thrown up against me recently. Now I could feel him: his fear and his pain—and the urgency of the situation was suddenly very much apparent. Why hadn’t he said anything before?

Because he was an idiot. 

He was an idiot, and so was I.

The little medbot beeped, interrupting my thoughts. It had a sterile tray ready for me with tweezers and wipes. Ugh. This bit was going to be so weird. MedSystem supplied a video of previous collorectomies (yes, it actually used that word) and I followed its instructions. The trick was not to grip the petals too hard, as they’d crush and tear (the tweezers were soft plastic and obviously specially made: I thanked the MedSystem, it had really been doing its best), you needed to gently prise them out without damaging them. 

I had pushed the chair aside to stand next to the bed and lean down over his neck, but I soon found the angle was awkward. So I simply climbed on to the bed and sat astride him, tilting his head over with my left hand, while my other held the tweezers. When I’d first started removing the petals I had felt Gurathin sort of retreating into himself; I suspected he was doing some sort of meditation—which was fine by me, if it helped him keep calm. 

But now I was on top of him, I was aware of his breathing rate increasing and his heart beating faster. I was not going to let that distract me. I saw a flush spreading up his neck. Despite not being hardwired, we were so close in the feed that I was conscious of his sensations as each petal came away. I looked at the one I was currently gripping—it was white with tiny pink veins running through. It looked uncanny, almost fleshy. I positioned the tweezers carefully, ensuring a good surface area of contact and started to pull, slowly but firmly. I met with some resistance, more than anything I’d encountered so far. Through the feed I felt Gurathin try to flinch away from the pain. I made what I hoped was a soothing noise, and tried to push gently on his virtual presence—mimicking what ART does to comfort me. Once this was done we could hardwire and I could kill the pain. He seemed to understand, leaning back into me. I ever so slightly twisted the tweezers, more of a tilt to my wrist, and increased the tension; for a second I felt Gurathin’s pain levels rise sharply, and then, with a rush of relief, the petal came free.

I looked at it as I put it down to join the other seven on the little tray, its base was stained with what looked like blood. I turned back to the dataport, just five more to go…

It turned out there were six. In all, thirteen little discs—they were almost heart shaped (ironic), with a little pointed tip to one end and a two arcs at the other. Coloured white and pink and red, there had indeed been blood—it speckled them, the tray, the tweezers, my fingers; it stood out on Gurathin’s pale skin and the sheets and made me feel queasy. Gurathin hadn’t complained at all, he’d just borne the discomfort in a way that worried me. This would be fine—once I was hardwired I could take away his pain and everything would be okay.

The medbot offered me some sterile wipes, I took them and cleaned first my hands and then, as gently as I could, I tidied Gurathin’s port. As I’d released the grip of my left hand I saw pale indents in his skin where I’d been holding him. I hope I hadn’t bruised him. The MedSystem was being encouraging in the feed, but I detected some concern. Gurathin looked very pale, I needed to hear his voice, so I asked him “Are you okay?”

It was an incredibly stupid question in the circumstances; he was lying bloodied on a MedSystem bed with a SecUnit looming over him. His eyes flicked across my face, and there was just briefly a hint of a smile on lips as if someone had made a joke, but he just said, “I’m fine.”

He obviously wasn’t fine, but I didn’t have time to argue. I climbed off him, and took up my position in the chair. I picked up the hardwire, putting his own questing hand gently but firmly aside, and attached one end just behind his left ear. ART had deactivated the dataport on my neck, so I opened my gun port in my left arm and attached the other end as he watched wide-eyed. Gurathin gasped (but it didn’t sound like a gasp of pain) and I saw him close his eyes…and I was in.

My first priority was pain-relief. Now I was in, I could feel it and it was even worse than I’d expected. You stupid, stupid brave augmented human. How long did you think you could keep this up?

Not much longer, Murderbot. I’m dying.

I hated the calm resignation.

No you are not.

Yes I am. 

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His certainty was chilling. Now that I was in his systems I could feel the extent of the disease—it was everywhere! Filaments wrapped around every augment: if it was like a fungus then the petals were the mushrooms, the fruiting bodies, the visible signs of the disease—but 99% of it was under the skin. Invisible. A complex network of mycelia infiltrating his flesh. There was no way any MedSystem could remove them, not now. Why the fuck hadn’t he said anything earlier?

I thought it was a myth, Murderbot. Whoever heard of anyone actually succumbing to Hanahaki Disease? It’s quite ridiculous. Who suffers from shameful, secret, undeclared, unrequited love these days? 

I know he was trying to make light of things, trying (like an idiot) not to hurt me; but I had to ask, What’s so shameful about being in love with me? 

He actually laughed, I looked at his face (slightly concerned he was becoming hysterical)—in fact he looked much calmer now and almost happy. His eyes were shut, his features relaxed now that the pain was gone. His cheeks had a slight flush to them. MedSystem (ever so gently) reminded me I had limited time and a task to compete.

I was aware.

You don’t want my love, you’re a SecUnit. and you don’t like me.

A shared memory:

“I don’t like you.”

“I know.”

It was intense, vivid—a moment both of us had clearly revisited time after time.

What’s being a SecUnit got to do with it? Do you think constructs aren’t capable of love?

That confused him. And I was being unfair. Gurathin was probably more aware than any of my clients of the emotional capabilities of constructs, he was about as close to being one as was possible for a human. 

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I was an ignorant fool back then…I meant…

Because we were hardwired together I knew that what he actually meant was that he’d been taught all his life, until his arrival on Preservation, that constructs were tools. He’d been taught that becoming emotionally attached to one was an aberration, something to be pitied and mocked. 

Another shared memory bubbled up—one we both shied away from,  “the simulacrum of intimacy..not designed for… emotional attachment of any kind…”—we recoiled from this one with something like horror. I held him in the feed.

It’s okay, Dr Gurathin. 

His vital signs had fluctuated wildly (I expect mine had done the SecUnit equivalent) and MedSystem had a brief moment, but I told it everything was fine. I hoped I was right.

You’re not going to die.

Murderbot, there’s no cure. Not now, you can see that. This is something you can’t fight. It’s okay. It’s not your fault.

He sounded almost happy, relieved, ready to let go. Fuck, I hoped this was going to work. 

Dr Gurathin, you said your love was shameful, secret, undeclared, and unrequited.

That snapped him out of it a little, pulled his attention back to the present, he smiled, You do remember every word ever said to you, even now teasing me,  I am glad I got to tell you, I could feel the truth of this, waves of it radiating out from him, I’m glad you know.

“Dr Gurathin,” I spoke aloud: we were so entwined in the feed I needed to pull us back into the room, it was a wrench, “you said it was shameful, secret, undeclared and unrequited—it’s none of those things.”

Yes, that was incredibly uncomfortable to say, but it had to be said. MedSystem was trying not to worry me, but I could tell my augmented human’s physical condition was deteriorating. Rapidly. My words caused him to rally slightly.

“Murderbot,” he was following my lead and speaking aloud, his voice was soft, sleepy and slightly hoarse, “you don’t have to lie to me. This,” he indicated the room, the hardwire, our connection, “it is more than I ever dreamt of, or deserved.”

His eyes rested on my face, briefly scanning it and I felt his admiration (no—it was closer to veneration) and then he locked eyes with me. And for a minute he just held my gaze…before closing his eyes with a sigh. Connected as we were, I felt as if I might drown in his emotions. It was all too much, and he wasn’t listening to me—even with the hardwire connection.

How can he be so fucking annoying at a time like this? 

Fortunately I had expected something like this (well, this was Gurathin, it was never going to be simple), and was ready. I placed the little package I’d prepared in our joint feed. It was a selection of videos which I’d cut together. I’d considered adding a voice over, but that would have been just too painful. Instead I just titled it, “Murderbot Fails to Recognize its Feelings Towards an Augmented Human [Dr Gurathin]”. I did add music.

I was still watching his stupid, ambiguously expressive face and saw it scrunch up with perplexity as he accessed it. I resisted the urge to stroke away the little puzzled crease in his forehead with my thumb. But then he started watching—the MedSystem was there too, imagine it peering over our shoulders in the feed. (Probably squinting through the metaphorical fingers of its hands held over its face.) This bit was the tricky bit.

We all watched the video. Humans have various idioms for difficult and painful things, “like pulling teeth” is one. This was much worse than pulling our teeth, believe me I know. My performance reliability fluctuated wildly and then decided to just shut up shop. 

So many moments, starting with the survey.

I kept an eye on him through one of the drones. He kept looking at me, or trying not to look at me, which was worse. I didn’t need the distraction right now.

Never asking myself why he was such a distraction.

I’m not your enemy. I’m just cautious.

I don’t care about your opinion, I said, and then immediately wished I’d put myself on a one-second delay so I could delete it. It made it sound like I did care. Which I didn’t.

I’m such a liar.

…the human also most likely to come watch me break into a damaged transport but only so he could argue with me about it.

He hadn’t argued.

Gurathin was there, feeling my emotions as we watched ourselves miss opportunity after opportunity for understanding, for honesty.

“I don’t want to be a pet robot.”

Where had that even come from?

It hurt. It hurt both of us—and not just emotionally. I had switched off the signals from Gurathin’s nocireptors but the filaments which now permeated throughout Gurathin’s nervous system felt like they were burning…I couldn’t help with this, all I could do was share the pain.

And then, again:

I don’t like you.

Gurathin murmured his response, “I know.”

I stoped the video.

“I love you!”

I said it aloud and over the feed: he had to hear it and believe it. To know it was true. I felt his response—initial icy disbelief which melted under the intensity of my insistence, but not enough. I reached out to him and grabbed hold of his hand, he felt worryingly cold and rather clammy (I wanted to hold him, warm him), his eyes opened in shock. My eyes and my drones scrutinized his expression; this one I could decipher, but it wasn’t the one I wanted to see. Dammit Gurathin, what do I have to do?

I knew what I had to do. The MedSystem had helped me come to this realisation, it hadn’t pushed me into it. It really was a lot like Bhradawaj. 

I am, as you’ve probably noticed, not always completely honest about my emotions—even (perhaps especially) with myself. But I was going to have to do this, or else Gurathin would die. And I don’t think I could bear that. I held onto that thought and the emotions that came with it: anger, desperation, grief…then I pulled all of my feelings about Gurathin together—there was fondness and affection there, but also confusion, fury, bafflement, neediness, jealousy, rage, warmth, possessiveness, desire, anger and…

I bundled them all together and basically threw them at him over our hardwired connection. It wasn’t pretty, but it was how I felt.

I had decided to call it love, I just hoped he understood. 

His first response was, unsurprisingly, shock. But he didn’t flinch. He examined it, like the analyst he is. I watched him untangle it, warily at first but then I could see and feel his…intrigue. His curiosity. As he picked it apart (peeling back the layers and untangling the skeins of meaning) I felt him gradually process the information, comprehend my feelings towards him. And, as he did so, it was like when the primary star rises over the fields on Mensah’s farm (I know what I’ve said about planets, but they have some good bits too); everything becomes warmer and brighter. 

His eyes were still on my face—we looked at each other. His eyes scanned my features as if trying to read the truth in them, and his own expression morphed into one I’d never seen before—based on the emotional data from the hardwire, I catalogued it as “joy”. I was still holding Gurathin’s hand: I pressed his fingers, he squeezed mine back gently.

The MedSystem, almost sheepishly, tapped us in the feed with a medical update. We turned our attention to it, though we both already knew; had felt the tendrils begin (slowly at first, but then faster and faster) to shrivel away; melting and vanishing…into nothingness. 

All that was left was the little dish of bloodied petals…

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