Two soldiers stare each other down, a man and a woman. She wants revenge, and he knows he deserves it. She knows that he's close enough to stab, but she wants to make him suffer. All she has to do is reach a little farther, pull on his hair, and pull hard. She hears a sickening crack as the bones in his neck snap out of line. With her free hand she shoves the heel of her hand into his face, receiving an unpleasant crunch from the bones in his nose. Soon enough, his cream complexion is stained with red as he drowns in the ruby liquid, nearly choking on his blood.
She pauses to unclip the flower from her hair; she thinks it's too delicate, too fragile to endure what will occur.
He glares at her with those eyes of his, eyes that match his bloody nose. He says without words, "Go on, I can take it." But she knows that even he has a breaking point, and his pride will force him to endure until the end. She suppresses her pity and opts instead to claw at his chest. She will make him feel just how he made her "husband" feel.
Her nails dig into muscle and graze bone, and the blood just keeps coming. It's revolting, she thinks, the way she can maul this man and think nothing of it. Even more disgusting is how he looks – and to think, she's not even halfway done.
She straddles him, pinning his legs to the ground with the knives she hid in her boots. The last knife, she presses to his neck, applying pressure ever so slowly. Tantalizingly, she thinks, is the way to describe it. She will make him suffer, make him beg for death.
She glances to her left and spots her flower clip, already splattered with blood and gore. She wonders why an object so frail wears battle scars so well, and then she thinks twice.
She is a soldier, so she should really know better than to let her emotions take over. The man stopped breathing a long time ago. Shaken, she crawls to her hairclip and clutches it to her chest. Why, she asks herself, did she ever do something like this? She shivers, appalled by her own actions.
She doesn't notice that the silky petals have fallen off the flower. She cradles her knife just a little too close to her heart.