Belladonna had never been one to fancy blood, despite how much her mother had made her accustomed to it.
Perhaps that was where her hatred for the color even steamed from.
Although she liked to tell herself that she hated it because it clashed with the color of her eyes and made them ache, but what if there was more? What if it reminded her of every time her mother had caused her to bleed? What if some part of her found that color repulsive because it triggered memories she would love to believe that she had overcome?
What if...
She had never thought about it before, but after cleaning so much blood and having the metallic smell cling to the roof of her nose and her tongue to the point that she could almost taste it, the thought was crawling all over her mind.
Lady Kestra had worked smoothly and the injured victims had stopped coming in a long time ago.
