My best friend giggled as she slowly ran her tongue up the bloody knife. My best friend wore the intestines of the bad man as a scarf in the cold air. We got out of the white room. We got away from the bad men. The bad men who couldn't see her. They screamed as she cut them open. Slicing their thin skin with ease. She giggled as their blood pooled on the ground. She laughed as they begged for mercy. She stared into their eyes until she could see their souls. The blade shone as she slashed at their feet so they could not run. A stitch in time saved nine. The needle with the thread of skin that would sew their lips shut. That would tear if they managed to scream. My best friend. Her black hair plastered to her scalp, highlighted red with blood. Her white clothes. The clothes that were too white. Were covered with fresh blood. My best friend who has the blood staining her teeth. My best friend who cut them open and slowly removed their organs one by one until they died. My best friend who killed then all.
My best friend.
Can you see her now?
