Warning: gory, icky topic.
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His fingers ran down her cheek. “My empress,” he whispered, the words swelling affection within her, before continuing, “I need this.” He took the charred arm out of her hands. Annika swallowed what remained in her mouth. When he went to leave her, she clung to him.
“Uriah...” Annika pleaded. Doubts clouded her mind. What had she done? Why? I ate her. The words sounded too absurd to be real.
Sadness weighed down his smile. “You did as I asked.”
And that made her feel worse. Dropping to her hands and knees, Annika vomited chunks of flesh and streaks of blood onto the sand. The wet vomit mingled with the dry sand and coated her fingers in a sandy paste. She brushed her hands against the fabric of her robe, which only succeeded in spreading the sand further. Her wet eyes were wiped by sand-clumped fingers. It was, perhaps, the stupidest decision of the night. Once the tiny pieces of sand became lodged in the lids of her eyes, no amount of blinking could flush them out. And yet, in between glassy-eyed blinks, where she scolded herself for being stupid, she pushed what truly troubled her out of focus – her uncontrollable desire for human flesh and blood – but when her sight cleared, the horror of what she did was still there, waiting to haunt her until her last breath.
She’d do it again. And Uriah would use this blood lust to bend her to do his bidding...again. Her hand scrapped against Uriah’s blade, half submerged in the sand, inadvertently releasing the red blood of her own body into the sand. She sucked on the injury and pulled out the blade from the sand with her uninjured hand. Annika held the blade against her own wrist and traced the blue vein down to her elbow. I deserve to die.
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/ /
His fingers ran down her cheek. “My empress,” he whispered, the words swelling affection within her, before continuing, “I need this.” He took the charred arm out of her hands. Annika swallowed what remained in her mouth. When he went to leave her, she clung to him.
“Uriah...” Annika pleaded. Doubts clouded her mind. What had she done? Why? I ate her. The words sounded too absurd to be real.
Sadness weighed down his smile. “You did as I asked.”
And that made her feel worse. Dropping to her hands and knees, Annika vomited chunks of flesh and streaks of blood onto the sand. The wet vomit mingled with the dry sand and coated her fingers in a sandy paste. She brushed her hands against the fabric of her robe, which only succeeded in spreading the sand further. Her wet eyes were wiped by sand-clumped fingers. It was, perhaps, the stupidest decision of the night. Once the tiny pieces of sand became lodged in the lids of her eyes, no amount of blinking could flush them out. And yet, in between glassy-eyed blinks, where she scolded herself for being stupid, she pushed what truly troubled her out of focus – her uncontrollable desire for human flesh and blood – but when her sight cleared, the horror of what she did was still there, waiting to haunt her until her last breath.
She’d do it again. And Uriah would use this blood lust to bend her to do his bidding...again. Her hand scrapped against Uriah’s blade, half submerged in the sand, inadvertently releasing the red blood of her own body into the sand. She sucked on the injury and pulled out the blade from the sand with her uninjured hand. Annika held the blade against her own wrist and traced the blue vein down to her elbow. I deserve to die.
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Last edited:
Still in editing process.
The only thing I can say about this is you mention "robe" twice in once sentence and it was jarring. The rest...riveted me! Well done!
