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This was how it was always gonna be. Mary looks down at her body, her chest torn open collarbone to diaphragm. Blood still spurting a little where the claws had ripped.
She knew about this before, but it’s different to feel it. To see her own empty eyes staring up at her, mouth slack and open.
The woman kneels by her corpse. Delicate eyebrows knit and dark painted lips purse. Fingertips run down the chest, through that open wound, and, feet away, Mary gasps. The touch brushing inside her, in her skin, her lungs.
“Knew you'd come back to me.”