+ murderselfies. | v: game of cat & mouse.
The sting of blade twisting and grinding against flesh, inches of blood and bone marrow resonated through the blonde’s ears. The sighs of relief and echoing of her own cry continued to play and replay like a loop of film on repeat -- until she awoke in the confines of hospital room, sharp gasp filtering her lungs. Her neck felt stiff, her throat ached, and though she felt uncomfortable due to twisted 5′2 petite form in cushioned seat, to look over and see her fingertips still somehow slightly laced with his was actually quite consoling. Softened grin found its way upon her lips as she sat up, taking in deepened breath as relaxation found her muscles. She didn’t want to wake him, he looked so peaceful and though he drove her up the wall most days -- there was something about the very true mortification that had struck her hard, to the point she felt slightly winded by it, when she thought she’d actually lost him.
As if to curiously test the waters, she leaned in, pressing her lips ever so delicately to his forehead.”In your dreams, mouth-breather...” she whispered very softly, crooked grin on her lips.
