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They’re lucky to escape with their lives and to still have each other, and maybe a fighting chance.
Oil and water don’t mix, Vi said so herself—unless you had an emulsifier; can blood do that?
A big shiny full moon hangs in the sky above, tinted red, red as the blood they’ve shed together, red as anger. It would be beautiful if they weren’t under such a threat. They hang on to each other not out of tenderness but for support, for sheer life.
The moon shines on them and a shooting star sails past—nothing to wish upon.