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Then they tilt their heads back and howl together (two voices braided into one perfect note of ownership and damnation).

I run.

I run until my lungs burn and my legs give out and I collapse in the snow miles away, vomiting, sobbing, clawing at my own skin as if I could scrape their corruption off me.

Because I finally understand.

They didn’t just fuck in front of a corpse.

They fucked the corpse into themselves.

And whatever crawls out of that clearing when they’re finished won’t have room for sisters or friends or love ever again.

Only hunger.