she'd had a dream.
or perhaps a nightmare, constant flashed of his bloody hands tracing the scars that he'd forever embedded in her porcelain skin.

his porcelain oblivion.

she'd tried to scream as her face became a mixture of blacks and blues; his hands in her mangled hair and on her bruises and around the length of her neck.

the suffocation was overwhelming as his face stayed a blank canvas, vacant of emotion, her lips tasting of metal and grime. she saw faint white, the dewy look of his dyed parsnip-colored hair and septum ring.

he was beautiful but he was a monster, a death machine with a devilish smile and a play on words that had her yearning for a beauty like his.

a vice-like grip on her neck as the color drained from her face and she awoke with a start. hacking and sobbing, she'd curled up in ryker's jumper, pressing her fingernails through her scars.

and with nails like daggers, she numbed the pain.