Jenna Malone never killed on Tuesdays. Today would be the exception.
She pulled the trigger over and over while shouting every swear word she knew at the Garrity boys.
Barbara ran out of targets before she ran out of bullets and the pistol fell eerily silent in her trembling hands.
Sometimes I go to the roof if my building with a sniper rifle and target people. That’s enough for me . . . for now.
No seriously, this isn’t a story. Your not living through the night.
When I spoke enviously of Josephine’s long lashes, rosy cheeks and soft curves, the corners of my Samael’s lips lifted, and he let out a low, menacing laugh that sent an erotic chill down my spine. He withdrew his blade and spoke in a hauntingly satisfied murmur to its blood-stained tip: “My love, all skeletons look the same.”
I must eliminate everything that is wrong with me. Please bid your final farewells and prepare to taste death.