The little girl named Beatrice backs up a little and a look of regret crosses her innocent black face.
"I'll go get grandma, she'll know what to do"
and then she was off.
I am beginning to lose it, the venom has spread far into my blood I doubt even grandma can do anything about it. I close my eyes and embrace the pain. It is excruciating, it threatened to spill your insides out. I feel like ripping my own heart out to stop the burning, but I can't seem to find my hands or any other part of my body, fuck.
I am lying on a sleeping bag, it is dark and it smells like herbs. I am still in the old shed with the tools in it. The moon is out, a little toenail, and the sky is filled with twinkling stars.
'if I'm still breathing, then grandma must have worked some magic, a really good one'.
