Maya's Monsters

Maya's Monsters

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Nov 5, 2021
The room smells like pennies. Maya's hands are sticky, and she can't wipe the blood off of them, not even when she drags her palms over the fabric of her shorts. It's already too dry. When she reaches out a shaky, bloodstained hand to touch the body in front of her, it's still warm.
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I am an ordinary girl like any other. I talk. I live. I try new things. The life I live though, is probably the only extraordinary thing about me. The things I see, hear, touch, feel make the rooms a bit silly in a way, but isn't that what average girls think?

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