Beth Mc'Neil


Sense

I prick my finger upon a thorn
Watch the blood bead
I flinch and run my fingers under the water
Its hotter than I thought it would be and I go to pull away
But something in the back of my mind beckons me to stay
Then the water stops
Just stops and I freeze
I can feel someone behind me
Their breath is hot and sticky on the nape of my neck

[Report Error]