Her Madness calm

calm

Lena

She didn’t answer. She crouched at the foot of the bed and gripped his ankle tightly. Lena: “I don’t want to kill you, Ivan. I want to break you.”

With slow, deliberate pressure, she dragged the blade across the top of his foot—not deep enough to bleed out, but enough to cut skin, enough to burn.

Ivan Volk

He winced. A hiss escaped his teeth.

Lena

She smiled wider. Lena (whispering): “There it is. That breath. That twitch. That little bite of pain.”

Ivan Volk

Blood ran down his foot, soaking into the old sheets.

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