Fire-aim; in that precise order. She carelessly distributes
her weary heart to one after another, not penetrating even to the point of
meaningless companionship but the hurting is just the same. It becomes routine,
her daily treachery. Her spirit rises at the hint of attention and plummets
shortly following, realizing its falsity as another tear sends her to sleep.
She makes an abrupt slice at her
ribcage, reaches through tough flesh for a heart. Successfully grasping her
target she pulls, rupturing her insides, spattering her pale chest with common
blood. Her eyes glaze over as it beats in her shaking hands. Her eyes meet a
stranger. Please take it she called.
I don’t want to die again. He
saunters past-