Red. Wet. Sticky.
Red. Wet. Sticky.
Red. Wet. Sticky.
A small voice chanted in Pearl's shattered mind as she stared blankly ahead.
The thin layer of blood that had dripped down her arms and sprayed her face and neck was slowly drying and becoming itchy on her sensitive skin but she could not find it in herself to wipe it off.
She was a murderer. She took a life she could never give back and did not even need the guns she was terrified of to do it.
Was it this easy? To become so vicious and destructive in the world of guns and power? To lose one's humanity in the blink of an eye?
Pearl felt tainted and filthy, like she was covered in dirt that could never be washed off and was slowly seeping into her pores and down to her core. A dirt that was slowly turning her heart as dark as the
