Entry 7

She left the door open, like she wanted me to see. It was the moon’s third hour, and she hunched over the dug up grave. Mouth full of icicle teeth slicked dark with blood. Gnawing on his fingers. And then I remembered. What happened after I killed him. It was when he stopped kicking. A light come up from below, into his throat. She shoved me aside, and kissed his mouth. Drank deep from his soul. And I felt only a great rage. But now I hear her laugh like the cracking of finger bones, and there’s nothing in me but fear.