Page 187 of Eternal
His breath was hot against my skin, the scent of alcohol clinging to him. He was savoring this, taking his time, as if I was something to be enjoyed.
I let my dress slip down, letting it pool at my waist, leaving me in black lingerie. I did it because I didn’t want his blood on it. Vik gifted it to me last year.
He pulled back slightly, eyes devouring me. “Such a dangerous and pretty little thing.”
And still, he didn’t see the knife. Didn’t notice the way my fingers curled around the handle, slow, deliberate. He kissed my throat again, and I smiled, leaning forward. “Fuck, how I wanted this.”
He chuckled, not understanding, until I slid the blade into his neck. His body jerked, a choked, wet gasp breaking from his lips and I twisted it. “You disgust me,” I whispered, close to his ear. “Did you touch your daughter like this, too?”
His eyes widened, panic blooming, and he tried to grab me, to push me away, but his hands were weak. Shaking, blood poured over my fingers, thick, hot. It stained my chest, my neck, even my face.
His lips brushed against my skin as he convulsed, his weight sagging against me.
I leaned in, voice soft, sweet. “Dying under a woman’s hands,” I murmured. “How poetic.”
He gurgled, then nothing.
I exhaled, pushing his body back, watching as he crumpled to the floor.
Do I feel better? Or is it just me getting further away from healing? I don’t even know anymore.
The room was silent, and the city outside kept moving. Laughter, music, people, oblivious. Celebrating the beginning of summer, and I stood slowly, stepping over the mess, the blood had splattered on my thighs, but not my dress.Good.
I wiped the blade clean, tucking it back into the strap around my leg.
And then, the mirror caught my reflection, but there was someone else.
A figure.
A man.
A mask.
Watching.
52
AZRA
“Unfair” by The Neighbourhood
Past
It’s 1:12 AM. Again.
I’m already opening the door, hoodie on, hair down, hairpin in the pocket, my key.
Same routine, right turn, twist, little click. I’ve done this more times than I can count, I could do it asleep, I almost have.
I don’t look at the house behind me when I get out of here.
The car’s where it always is. Silver, loud, parked under the broken streetlight at the end of the road. I climb in, the man inside is older, maybe thirty, always looks like he’s half-bored, half-horny. Looks at me like he owns something. Scruffy beard, hoodie too, smells like cheap cologne and weed. He calls me baby even though he doesn’t know my name. I don’t know his either, I never wanted to.
“Money?” he says.
I handed it over without a word, he checked it like he thinks I’d cheat him, I don’t even blink.
He tosses the baggie on my lap, then hits the gas, the music’s loud. Something angry, I can’t tell what, but it doesn’t matter.
