pelxgia

When you threw me to the wolves that night, did you think they'd find me easy to swallow?

You've loved me more than the others; you know i am shattered glass, iron nails, razor blades. You know i claw and scream on the way down.

Of course I bit back. I learned to love the moon. I wore wolf skins as easily as my own.

I growled at death and watched him run. Please know that if you feel the hair rise on the back of your neck, see a shadow in the bathroom mirror, find eyes in the thick of night, I am here. I do not hunger after you. I imagine you'll taste exactly as I remember: sour, chalky, gritty. Dirt under my nails. I will be bored in this form soon.

I suggest next time you try feeding me to dragons.

(A Study in Survival by M. C.)