******Angelica*****

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  ?One.

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  ?Two.

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  ?Three.

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  ?Four.

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  ?Another cut. The blade slices clean, the pain dulling into nothingness. Blood beads at the fresh wound before spilling over, sliding down her fingers in slow, lazy streams. It drips onto the stone floor below, forming a dark pool at her feet. The metallic scent thickens the air, mingling with the stench of death.

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  ?One.

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  ?Two.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

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  ?Three.

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  ?Another cut—deeper this time, across both wrists. A crimson ribbon blooms, staining her already ruined sleeves. She barely registers the sting. The book had said to do this thrice more. Or was it five? No—fifty. No… thirty different heads, thirty different types of blood.

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  ?She’d killed seventy just to be safe.

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  ?The library was littered with corpses—limbs twisted, throats gaping, their bodies nothing more than husks drained of all value. They had been useless. Worthless. Bloodless garbage. Not even fit to be called animals. Without a drop of cursed blood in their veins. They were fit only for slaughter

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  ?One.

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  ?Two.

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  ?Another cut.

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  ?Her vision wavers. Her pulse thrums erratically, a distant pounding in her ears. Her knees buckle, but she catches herself against the blood-slicked table. She can’t fall. Not yet. Two more. Just two more.

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  ?One.

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  ?Her grip trembles as she raises the blade again. Her fingers are sticky, too slippery. The hilt nearly slides from her grasp. She presses down harder.

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  ?Another cut. Her world tilts. Her breaths come shallow now, each inhale rattling in her chest.

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  ?Zero.

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  ?The final cut. The knife clatters to the floor. Her legs give way, but she refuses to collapse among the filth. She stumbles forward, gripping a tree outside the library, her nails digging into the bark. The cold night air bites at her fevered skin, but it does nothing to ground her. The edges of her vision blur, dark tendrils creeping inward.

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  ?Still, she hears them—the whispers. Twisting, curling, seeping into her very bones.

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  ?Promising her power. Promising her everything.

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  ?A slow, satisfied smile tugs at her lips.

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  ?And just before the darkness claims her, she welcomes it.

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