But it was not his kisses, or the bed, that made me catch him to mewith a cry. I was forgiven. There was an urgency that had not been present ...he nightbefore–a need for him beyond the need for food or water. And he respondedto it, pinning me beneath him and entering in one long thrust that drew a screamfrom me, even as I writhed beneath him. I raked him with my nails, I bit. Andhe was rough, he was violent, forcing me down, catching my hands–evenstriking my face once. I exploded.. It chops down two more times, splashing blood and gore all over her face and breasts. Then she is still, her face forever contorted into a mask of terror.The blood splashed onto her unmoving face by the axe slowly travels down her cheeks and the sides of her face, almost like red tears shed in her despair.It starts to snow; large flakes falling onto her butchered, naked body, sticking to her unmoving eyelashes and falling unnoticed into her open mouth.In the middle of the snowy clearing, her. More

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