I open my mouth, and where I expect to find a scream, there’s only laughter. A poisonous, violently wounded sound that only grows more shrill as I close the space between us. My hand comes up, and my index finger becomes a dagger, the tip digging into the expensive fabric above his heart. If I loved him less, I might want to destroy him more. I might wish for claws sharp enough to shred him, but today I’ll settle for my words.
