teeth teeth teeth.
the words catch on them, the accent of predators, of hungry things with tongues too shriveled by hunger to tell the truth.
she feels the ramming against her ribs. hand on clavicle drags lower, to feel the warm pulse fill her palm with each heartbeat.
what use am i alive?and in her desperation, there's anger. indignation.
you- you don't even- your ilk doesn't-
she'd like to throw accusations, but panic rises as she realizes the black gaps in her knowledge.
there's only teeth, and the implication on them.
why?and she throws her arms up, a sudden movements she could regret if the coil of emotion would leave room for it.
![[Image: PIXEL-PLOP.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/6QL1WkkW/PIXEL-PLOP.png)