Blood dripped slowly out from the wound, like rain drizzling on a window pane. Drip, drip, drip, over and over; never stopping.
The fabric of her pale, blush-blue sweater soaked it up, staining it crimson. She laughed, a dry, humorless laugh; for she knows she going to die.
Alone, cold, and at the hands of someone she loved. She doesn't care about anything anymore though, not now. Suddenly the pain grows....hazy, not as sharp. It's warmer now too, less cold and forbidding. She feels lighter, as the world goes white, and fuzzy.
She's happy

very vivid, dark imagery, cool