Few Hours Ago...
The narrow alley reeked of damp stone, old piss, and rotting garbage. Blue moonlight spilled down between the tightly packed buildings, casting long, distorted shadows that twisted like reaching hands. The air was cold enough to bite through clothes, yet it did nothing to cool the storm raging inside the woman standing with her back to the world.
She faced the wall, one pale hand pressed flat against the cold brick. Her shoulders trembled. Every few seconds her fingers curled into a fist and struck the wall — not hard, just enough to feel something. A soft, broken sound escaped her lips, half sob, half bitter laugh.
*He kissed me.*
The thought circled like a vulture.
*He touched me… and he lived. Why? Why did it feel warm? Why did my chest hurt when he pulled away? I killed him. I felt his life leave. But he came back. He looked at me like I wasn't a monster.*
