Page 56 of Morena
God, she was beautiful, like a ruin. I couldn’t name anything that matched it except paradise itself. One hand cupped a breast, the other pressed flat to my chest as she rode me, lifting and falling, then circling her hips.
I felt my cock swell and thicken, her inner flesh folding around me tighter with every stroke. I lost myself in the pressure, and I came deep inside her. I collapsed, but she kept moving until a second shudder ripped through her, a raw cry that spilled over me.
She rose gently, reached for my hand, and I hesitated watching her. I stood up, and then I took her hand and pulled her close.
“How did you make me feel something when I am supposed to feel nothing?” I whispered into her mouth.
She smiled, but then her eyes darkened. “Oh, poor little man,” she murmured, then kissed me. She shoved me toward the wall and lifted my wrists. I surrendered to her without thinking. She clipped chains to my arms and tightened them, stepping back to admire her work.
“How does it feel to be betrayed, Death?” she asked, picking up a smaller chain with a dangling key.
“You really thought you had control over me?” Her laughter grew sharper.
“I played you from the beginning, Death.” She snapped the chain with the key around her own throat.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I demanded, anger boiling inside me.
“I am getting my revenge,” she said, sliding close so her claws dug into my chest. “I will start with your little earth girlfriend. Just this time, Death will not be there to carry her soul away.”
She was my monster, made by my hands. Part of me admired her for what she had become, and part of me hated her for it.
“You will pay for this,” I warned.
3“Puede ser,” she replied with a chuckle. “But at least I will take every single soul with me.”
She turned and walked away. I strained against the chains, but chains in hell don’t break, not even when Death struggles against them.
I watched her move, touching the glass with long fingers, the cruel curve of a smile on her face as she left me there.
Villains aren’t born. They rise out of good people who have been torn apart by betrayal, and she was the cruelest proof of that. She was the darkest of them all.
Once, Bloody Mary was only a story whispered to a mirror. But you had her. Morena. A nightmare that breathed against your skin and left you shivering alone. She was not just something to fear; she was fear itself, pressing in until it drowned you from the inside out.
Monsters like her aren’t born. They are forged in grief, in fire, in wounds that never heal. And once the hunger begins, it doesn’t rest. Each taste leaves her wanting more, each win only deepens the thirst. The circle rots, the craving spreads, until the world itself is dragged into a war none of us can escape.
1. Look at me, Morena, eyes on me.
2. Then, punish me.
3. Could be.
IV.
MORENA
Isteppedintothebasement, leaving Matteo in the fifth circle of hell. Stories had grown over the years, some true, most twisted. I let them believe whatever version they wanted to believe. None of them ever wrote the ending. None of them knew how I burned alive, how my screams clawed through the door while my sister stood on the other side listening. No one noticed when the flames chewed me down to dust. They swept me into an urn, set me on a shelf in this basement, and sealed the door shut.
Being forgotten for years taught me that the real horror isn’t fear. It’s the silence. It’s the loneliness.
“The monsters you made in others live in me now. And I am not afraid of becoming one.”
I slid into the corner, watching Isabella bend over Matteo’s corpse. She loved him. I had never been loved like that. Themoment I looked into his eyes, I knew what he was. Death. I only played along because I liked the part.
Paco stood near her, staring at the body. Maybe he had felt it all along, the reason he wanted Matteo away from his daughter. He put his hand on her shoulder. His voice cracked. “He is gone, Isabella.”
I rolled my eyes. So fucking dramatic. Everybody dies.
Blah blah blah.Who cares?!
