All things considered? Not the worst death they've had. Not the best, not the least painful, but not the worst.
It's the length of it that's truly maddening. It's waking up to more pain and no end, to new lacerations on their skin and burning lungs as flowers continue to build and push on their insides, eventually forcing their way out. White flowers dotting every fresh wound, every cough- the constant burning on the inside of their arms, their back... Across their back. Their legs. Wherever the neighbors won't see. They're not in the best of moods by the time she comes knocking, suffice to say. She's lucky. The only reason she even gets an answer is because it's her.
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Did u mean, "two months later"?
It's the length of it that's truly maddening. It's waking up to more pain and no end, to new lacerations on their skin and burning lungs as flowers continue to build and push on their insides, eventually forcing their way out. White flowers dotting every fresh wound, every cough- the constant burning on the inside of their arms, their back...
Across their back. Their legs. Wherever the neighbors won't see.
They're not in the best of moods by the time she comes knocking, suffice to say. She's lucky. The only reason she even gets an answer is because it's her.
"Who's there?"