A LETTER OPENER NOTCHES BENEATH HIS CHIN ( a thin blade, flimsy between the pinch of untrained fingers --- it’d be a death wish to carry something bigger, though, practically pleading to get caught ). as if she wasn’t already fucking caught --- tangled web of motel fumes leading her here, a stranger pressed against the wall, the letter opener poised to slash. MIGHT NOT KILL, BUT IT’D BE A NASTY STORY ( always go down with a fight ). background noise : the curtains are drawn closed, the pounding on the door grows in intensity. OPEN UP. she has a face like a fucking brand, a tag around her neck that reads GUILTY, and she digs the knife in a little deeper with a breathless sigh. ‘ if they find me, they’re going to kill me. ‘
@marstronaut + starter.













