scrapdraught: (037)
Camille Preaker ([personal profile] scrapdraught) wrote 2024-06-30 05:48 pm (UTC)

Spoilers

Killing does.

[She watches him tap. Reflexively, her fingers splay to join in. Press around his, unable to connect. Solid as brick.]

My sister's a killer. My mother's a killer. [A beat. She needs the time to choke. The words come out thick.] It was her medicine, you know. I used it on him. At curfew. Put it one of the drinks and whoever picked it up...well.

[She laughs. It's ragged, wretched. It ends with her clutching her own face.]

I never did tell you what those words meant, did I?

[The first week here, in the church. A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.]

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