I could feel my bladder loose, as he stared at me with dead, gray eyes. A different time I might have felt shame, but all I felt now was terrified confusion. He was dead, wasn’t he?
The contagion had done little to detract from his beauty. The purple scars looked more like filigree grafted atop his skin, than the ravages of poison.
“Don’t bother begging for mercy, Anna.”
Mercy. Mercy was already lost to me.
“I will burn them all, Anna. I will raze them to the ground.”
He was wrong, like before. I had already destroyed them.
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: contagion, graft, mercy)