That's right. That's right, okay now," and she bent down, took a deep breath and traced a line across the girls cheek with the shiny, metal blade. Blood trickled from the line, drawn as deftly as an artist would. The girls mouth twitched. The blade drew more scarlet lines across her face, pulling her mouth into a frown. And her tears mixed with the blood.
"Shh, shh, shh," the woman stood up and ran her hands through the girl's blond hair, streaking it with crimson blood. "Now the angel face is gone ... gone ... gone. This is good, this is good for you and me and the others. It's okay now, it's all okay now."
Then the woman left the broken angel, she walked up to the light switch and plunged her into darkness. She walked up the ladder, back into the perfect linen closet. She pulled a towel out and revealed a mason jar behind it. She dropped the blade into the jar, already half full with blood stained razors. She replaced the towel, concealing the jar. Leaving only a small drop of crimson blood on the edge of it. She quickly brushed her hands together, as if it would cleanse her, and walked away.
