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sharp as shrapnel
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[html] [lay me down in sheets of linen]
[you had a busy day today]
She was coming back. Minute by minute, hour by hour, a spark was growing in her eyes. That flame had been rekindled. And maybe it was the fact that she had something to throw herself into directly, but it gave her a sense of comfort. She had no downtime to focus on things like her own plights and miserable past; she just had to keep focused and keep going. She was sitting cross legged out in the open sharpening a rock she'd found along the river's edge. So far, it had a good one sided edge that would server her better as a knife than anything but she wanted arrows. She wanted spears. She wanted something that meant they did not have to be near her, touch her, hold her, break her.
Arrow or spear? Spear or arrow? With the spear she could see them die, watch their eyes glaze and their bodies seize...and with the arrow, they wouldn't even have that chance to get anywhere near her. It wouldn't be clean, no death was, but it would satisfy all of that need in her. She needed to see someone else hurt, someone else die. She wanted to transfer all of her anger and her pain out to someone who actually deserved it.
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