Finished tending his wounds, Mizue threw a towel across her husband’s body to catch any blood that trickled out. As she placed it she glanced at her husband, their eyes meeting only inches away. His eyes were drowning in tears, from pain, from anger, from his reality as a meat puppet for a murderous wife.
Mizue watched the tears trickle down his face, her cold gaze seeming to make the tears slow down or freeze entirely. Giving into temptation, she leaned over and dragged her tongue across his face, lapping up the warm tears.
“I never loved you,” she whispered.
Copyright © 2019 by Luka Tatsujo