Elevator pitch: She’s the reason the devil never sleeps.
horizon is cruel—a reminder there’s life left to live. In silence, I lie
frozen, waiting. Daylight burns through my window and devours the darkness.
Still, I don’t move. Not until I’m sure the last shadow is gone.
clock on my nightstand, and the dancing ladies crank to life. Their mechanical
cheeks stick in permanent, rosy grins as they lift their dresses and spin on
their toes. If I had the energy, I’d smash away their cheer, but I save my
strength to unwind the bloody sheets tangled around my body.
the soggy heap, my breath is labored and my chest rattles. Bruises trail my
thighs to my blackened torso where my gown hangs in shreds. My tender skin is
burdened under the fabric, so I tear off the rags. The stench from the material
wafts up my nose, transporting me back to last night. My mind rewinds the
events over and over. The scene is too addictive to shut off—too fresh. A smile
creeps across my face.