Cortez the Killer.
Well that just didn't seem to fit him now. Nola looked down at him, crouching close to see if any in and out, up and down still existed in him. Nope.
He was done.
The blade slid like a hot ice skate across his spiny neck. It didn't hesitate at all. Nice and new and sharp. Forgiving one might say. Whiskey quick, it was. The cut that was supposed to be hers. At least it was clean.
He had started a whiny protest.
Nola just didn't have those kind of listens in her ears anymore. They were plum filled with apologies. Over the rim with threats. Her shells just couldn't take the harsh frequencies.
To her surprise she had become deaf to that particular song. Come and remorse, come and remorse. God, she was just so sick of that disjointed melody. Finally, the dirge was done.
His eyes were still open and they were brown like the rest of him, she could see that now.
At first they had looked black and blank. Now they were just brown and empty. No ritual spin of desire danced behind them anymore. It was very nice.
She remembered Josephine. She turned to find she had slipped out just as quiet as she had sunk in.
Baby Dagger knocked and entered.
Let's clean it up. I'll take care of the heap, you take the floors.
She'd never been happier to tidy up and she'd never felt so clean.
Josephine went to bed and layed on top of the covers. It was a warm night and she didn't feel like undressing. Everything was getting too naked....
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