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Author of 19 Stories |
Calling for the other, searching for her lover
Secrets she discovers drain her face of color
- The Lover's End; Birthday Massacre
The wood was rough against her ear, threatening to splinter. She laid still for hours, eyes closed and fingertips touching edged tiles. Nails fixed in the maple's grain, sucking on a lower lip.
Hojo nailed the coffin shut, but before her husband had the opportunity to prolong Vincent's suffering, Lucrecia carefully injected enough fluid to stall the other man into a painless sleep. Occasionally, she could hear the nails of his copper claw splintering the casket, and other times her name was lulled unconsciously.
For years she stayed, body fixed on the lid of his containment. He weighed by sleep, she by restlessness.
She could only weap as he dreamed.