Chapter Text
Panic tears through her skin, ripping her sanity like paper. She can feel the blood seeping through her eyes, ears, and mouth, leaving a trail of crimson on her unnaturally pale skin. Her vision clouds with pain, and she tries to rub them with her bloody hands. She looks at her finger, long and splayed like claws. She can still smell death written on the walls of the wreckage...
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Each drop of blood falls to the floor with a soft drip. She feels as if she’s floating, as if Death herself knows if she's too callous carrying her soul to the underworld, she will haunt her through her immortal years. Sobs rack her body, shoulders shaking with each gasp. She starts to laugh.
A maniacal smile crosses her face. She welcomes death with open arms.
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Drip
Seven. Seven drops of blood. Seven is her favorite number.