she wipes the blood off of the blade with the back of her hand, cleaning off her hand with her torn-up dress. she sees her messy hair falling in her face, her eyes outlined by sleek tattoos that one can only notice if they are looking for something there. otherwise, they blend in with her think eyeliner and long lashes, accentuated by her perfectly venomous crimson red lips. she can see herself in the blade, and she doesn’t like it one bit. how did she get here? she was doing perfectly well two years ago, with a 4.0 gpa at an esteemed college, with a great internship and a lovely little sister. now, all of those things were gone, and she was only left with the blood stains on her skin, the dagger held by her fingers, and her poisonous lipstick in her clutch.