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I stared down at my hands and saw the blood coat them, how warm and real something felt when it wasn__ just ink and stains. This was life and I was holding it in my hands. I drew my eyes back up and beneath the flickering streetlight and the throng of drunken cattle, I saw nothing else but the dead girl. Somebody out there had taken her life, her heart, and there I was with her warm, sticky blood. Feeling the most alive I__ felt in years.I had to find him. I just had to.
Charlotte Munro Down by The Mausoleum
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I stared down at my hands and saw the blood coat them, how warm and real something felt when it wasn__ just ink and stains. This was life and I was holding it in my hands. I drew my eyes back up and beneath the flickering streetlight and the throng of drunken cattle, I saw nothing else but the dead girl. Somebody out there had taken her life, her heart, and there I was with her warm, sticky blood. Feeling the most alive I__ felt in years.I had to find him. I just had to.

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