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Simon stumbled backwards, all of his limbs bedaubed in thick coagulating blood. The clotting red liquid congealed onto the material of his blue-grey hoodie. He couldn’t rip his dark void like eyes away from the blood. His blood.
It wasn’t from his body, but it was his blood in almost every sense of the word.
OR
Simon Riley hates Christmas, for obvious reasons.
Bookmarked by Auger_71
03 Jan 2024
