Her green eyes glitter with love for everything. Her name is eve , as in the eve of peace or dawn. Her hair is a fan of golden brown just long enough to curl down to her shoulders and accent her tan complexion. In every way she is perfect. We get together every thursday, after tree years she still calls me "you" even though she knows my name. Last thursday I wasn't shocked to hear we changed meeting places, we often do, but when I got close to the place I started to see smears of blood in strange places. When I arrived her body was contorted in pain , a look of terror in her eyes. Eve was cold, bruised around the neck, arms used as a knife sharpener and a mouth that would never struggle for air again.
AN : this is for a school assignment on surprise what did you think? i embrace critical helpfulness :)
