Crimson Incubus

He had made a mistake, and no mistake ever went unpunished.

He had taught her that.

She listened to every single hollow click her red stilettos made against the hardwood flooring as she slowed her pace, and the smile that crept to the corner of her swollen and cracked lips drew blood, but she no longer cared. Lowering her eyes to the axe she held, she meticulously stroked the handle.

“You know,” she whispered venomously, listening to the way her voice echoed through the dim hallway as she directed her gaze toward the far corner.

“I can see you.”