Work Text:
She isn’t afraid when she puts her hand on his massive finger. He escorts her to the gazebo and onto the dais. It is a sacred place reserved for ceremonies and only fuels the wrongness of everything.
“Look.” There’s a double-bladed knife, bejeweled with a dark, pretty red. Like blood. She watches, mesmerized, as it rocks back-and-forth.
It’s placed in her hands. “You try.”
Screaming makes her look behind.
Mother.
He shields her, doesn’t let her see. “Concentrate.”
She focuses on the perfect balance. It never tips too much to one side or the other.
She will kill him someday.