All Of Us Are Dead
The smell of iron filled the room, clinging to the back of my throat until I could taste it.
“I’ll do anything for you, Leah. Anything.”
He took a shaky step closer, his boots sliding a little on the red mess between us. I wanted to move back, to put space between us and what he had done, but my legs felt welded to the floor.
He reached out, fingers trembling, and caught my chin between them. The warmth of his touch smeared blood across my skin.
“See?” he breathed out, smiling. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I fixed it. I fixed everything.” There was pride in his voice, twisted and childlike, as if he truly believed this nightmare was some sort of gift.