(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

solid form as I wished. Many were like clay in my hands, easily shaped
though with too much work they would collapse into a muddy heap. But this
girl... this insipid, irritating girl, was like glass. From the moment I left I
pondered as to whether I had pushed too hard, whether I had broken her
beyond repair. I am glad that was not the case.
I let my pleasure give veracity and life to my smile, "Oh Deionarra,
beloved..."
They were my words, but they were a surgeon's words, chosen with cold
skill, without a TRACE of emotion. With every word, I felt him SNEERING
inside, knowing what the stricken girl will see next through her
longing-stained eyes, and who - am I THAT person, that man TWISTING her
with my words, not KNOWING how powerful they are to her, like bolts from
a ballista, piercing her breast.
Warmth and relief flood into my skin and I choke, light-headed and giddy at
the sight of him. I nearly collapse as I try to stand. Just his presence makes
me tremble, his smile sends my heart skipping.
The clumsy girl stumbles as she attempts to get to her feet, flopping on the
floor like a dying fish as she bunches up the tangles of her skirts in her hands.
I had bought her those silks, blue as the sky and with folds rippling like the
sea. I click my tongue... such a waste of a good gown.
"I have come to ask your forgiveness, Deionarra. I shall return to you as soon
as I am able -" the hook snags her heart and her eyes widen just as I
expected.
My mind strained like a tendon, consciousness on the verge of snapping at
being pulled three ways. Something gushed inside my head, a warmth
flooded into my nose.
"H-help... some... one..." the words were salty and tasted of iron on my lips.
Some muddled part of me was trying desperately to speak, to WARN
Deionarra that this was not a man, but a creature that kills for his own
needs, he doesn't CARE about you, Deionarra, you are a TOOL to him, a
TOOL he needs to-
Deionarra spoke, and I couldn't STOP her....
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