Blood

All the young woman had ever wanted was to taste blood. The blood of her enemies. She wanted to put her hands through their aged skins and rotting flesh and pull out the black hearts.

She could imagine them beating, still as she kept them in her tiny hands. They were steaming hot, the snow evaporated where the blood drippled on.

She could feel the taste of blood on her lips. Metallic, mainly and a bit sour. The muscle was chewy, but she would not care. She would drink the blood out of wine glasses and use the last drops of it to paint her lips red.

“Soon, my love” whispered the young woman to the reflection on the mirror. She put the last touch of make up before facing the world, bright red lipstick. “Soon, revenge will be ours.”

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