As the meat burned on the yard, she lit a cigarette. Inside the house, the afternoon sunshine illuminated her beautiful red vases on the shelf. The resin was lying on the table, ready for use. She was humming while taking out bloody roses from the ice cube trays. They were dark and smelled of man's blood, nothing that crimson ink and rose colony could not fix.
6 January 03, 2019, 14:50 3He delighted in hurting and his name was Angel but his characteristics were demonic. He studied the patients carefully; he favored the vulnerable: abandoned old men and defenseless children were his predilections. Like a filthy rat, he waited for the night to fall to come out of hiding and act: he took the opportunity to poke hard with the needle when putting an injection, or not giving anesthesia to make a painful cure... Then he said goodbye smiling with his angelic face.
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