WHAT IS THIS. [ᶤ'ᵐ ᵍᵒᶤᶰᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰᵉˡˡ ʷᶤᵗʰ ᵉᶰᶜʰᵃᶰᵗʳᵉˢˢ. ᵇᵃᶤ ]

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The tissue was TORN beneath her shaking hands, hands which now layered themselves with another coat- a coat of red.  Red.    Blood.

It dribbled of her fingertips like a dripping tap.
Fingers which bent as she released soft noises of amusement and proud accomplishment.

The gash was deep, yet almost unnoticeable as the blood piled out like magma from a freshly erupting volcano.
Flowing slowly but heavily, creating no doubt an unbearable amount of pain.
It was ever so steadily draining away the last of ones life

A face of fear stained itself upon the victim as if going to scream for mercy, but a scream which wouldn't deliver.
Eyes bulging from their sockets, as gasping for breaths increased over her delighted noise- which cracked and thundered through the silence which had lingered for a moment .

( Why do I write this. Why. I'm going to hell. Honest . )
( I need to stop.  HOLD ME BACK.    HOLD. HOLD I SAY.

˗ˏˋpossessedDonde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora