Prompted by: Jane Jago
WARNING: This fictional storyline may contain very disturbing situations, dubious consent, and graphic violence.
Seven bullets.
Pierced through flesh, shredded through muscle, obliterated tissue into nothing but minced meat.
One grazed his temple, almost taking an eye in the process. A pair lodged in his thigh, refusing to exit on the other side. Another tore into his neck, creating quite a fun mess to clean up. A couple blasted through his ribcage, puncturing a lung, no doubt making him gasp for air. And a shot to the chest nicked his heart…
Continue reading “WEEK 35: Only two fingers on his left hand” →
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