She kissed me once and I was lost.
“Come,” she said.
Like a lamb, I went.
The hotel was dying. Drab wallpaper sagged on damp walls. Lights flickered oddly, as if underwater. The carpets danced with Rorschach splatters, black as dried blood. Those visions of writhing monsters and torn flesh were old friends.
“Please me,” she said.
I tried, weeping gratefully. She just laughed.
“Please me.” She gave me a blade, bone-handled and fine.
I opened myself from neck to belly and watched my blood, steaming, soak the floor.
“Please,” I said.
She kissed me again.
“Thank you,” I smiled.