#ty audi!!!!!

ty audi!!! 

@trapquccn. 

Vince Salieri sprawled across the mattress, clad in only the the white sheets that tangled between his legs. His head was turned, eyes on that plump ass of hers, as she readied herself for his son. “When was the first time you killed someone,” he asked in the passing silence. He could see her expression in the mirror, that slight curve of her lips that a lesser man would have missed. 

“I was twelve. I remember it vividly. Sometimes I even think about it when I’m with you.” Katrina paused to lift two pairs of earrings. “Red or blue?”

“Blue,” he answered, shifting his body now so he was facing her entirely. “Were you ever innocent?” 

“It during a time where my uncle and my father were in heavy disagreement,” she went on, putting on the blue. “I was one of their disputes. That same year was the year that I bled between my legs. My mother, mind you, was still present during that time. When it came to me, my mother sided with my uncle. I may not have been the son they expected, but it did not mean I would grow up weak. My father, however, liked to treat me like a child. His printsessa. So my mother slipped around him. She led me to my uncle, to the place where he tied up bad men and slid their throat.” She paused once more to move from the vanity to the closet. Rina filed through her clothes as she continued. 

“The smell was the first thing I noticed. It was so potent, so strong. Even then, at the ripe age of twelve, I knew there was something wrong. This was no ordinary trip to see my uncle. I began to search for something to defend myself for what waited on the other side of the door. I found a gun in one of my uncle’s drawers, but it didn’t feel right in my hand. In any case, I’ve never shot anyone more. I continued my search until my hands caught on a knife.” Katrina lifted a dress to her body, turning for him and waiting for his approval before slipping it on. 

“So there I was, knife in my hand, and standing at the entrance of the door. My uncle had a fat grin on his face when he saw me. He was elated to see that my mother had managed to get me here, but even more so to see the knife in my hand. A ‘natural born Ivanov’, he called me. He pulled me closer then and told me to watch. The man himself was ugly in his state. I imagine he was quite attractive before my uncle scarred him and yanked off his nails. He had these ghost like eyes, blue in a sense, just like yours,” she said, peaking at him through her reflection. She moved for the vanity again. 

“I didn’t know his name. I didn’t know what he had done. It didn’t occur to me that those questions were ones I could ask or were important, for that matter. He was there and tortured and that meant that he had done something wrong or against our family. In the end, it wouldn’t matter for what he did. He ended up there either way. My uncle had told me he was done with him and that he wanted me to finish him. He drew a ripe ‘X’ with the very knife that I had brought in to defend myself and told me to aim there.” Katrina ran her hand across the creases of her dress, examining herself for a moment and then him in the reflection. “I watched the ghost in his eyes fade as I dug my knife deeper into him. I did it again just to be sure. And again and again because I enjoyed it.” She turned to face him now. “And that was my first kill.”

“Were you ever innocent,” he asked as she crawled back onto his lap, his hand yanking on the freshly fixed hairdo.