Prompt: Blood on your hands, they say, as though it stops there; at your wrist, like a glove. As though you could do this, and there could be any part of you that wasn't stained or dripping.
"Blood on your hands they say," Angelica said. She stared at her hands, as if literally seeing the blood dripping from her hands and would never recover from the sight. She shook her head with a scoff. "As though it stops there," she sniffed as tears began to fall down her face, "At your wrist, like a glove." She broke her glance from her hands and up at Jeremiah, who was sitting next to her. "As though you could do this." She turned her attention back to the dead body laying at her feet. "And there could be any part of you that wasn't stained or dripping." She would never get over what she had done. There would never be a part of her that wasn't dripping in blood. She would always be stained. She was forever changed because of what she had done, and she could never get over it. Jeremiah gently pulled Angelica into his shoulder and held her tightly as she fell apart.
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