A hand on my neck.
Digging.
Clawing.
Grasping.
Stop! Please!
Strange fingures creep over pale skin.
What's going on?
The ash fell from my lips into a pool.
A pool of blood and ice.
I fell back into the strangers body.
Only to fall into cold water.
It cut.
Like scissors
on paper
on hair
on my skin.
I love to play with scissors.
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