Crimson droplets race down the textured grey walls. She’s screaming, maniacally laughing. She’s insane, broken beyond repair. She’s a clock ticking away; counting down your darkened minutes to life.

She’s the blade in your back; pretty, bloody, and sharp. She’s angry, a raging black fire… she’d pop your teary eyes out and use them as colored dice in her game.

The sharpened stone arrow is pierced through your thudding heart. She’s dangerous. Watch your step, crunching over the sharp pieces scattered on the polished bathroom tile.

When she’s near, run.

When she looks your way, turn.

If she pulls your head from your neck, opens up your brains and claws at the wounds with taloned fingers, if she kills you deep and paints a canvas with your scorching insides—

Walk it off.