Broken Nail

A thick line of blood draws itself up upon the darkly shaded ashy toenail. Anita holds her foot against her chest, not wanting to touch the broken piece of her toenail. She looks at the floor, next to the bed where blood has dripped and dropped, all over the wooden furnished floor of her apartment. Maybe the mice will smell the blood and come out and lick it. This would be the perfect time to get those rats that filled her house once and for all, she thought. But the large toe on her foot felt like the blood in it was pushing itself out of the toe, and all she could do was watch; watch the blood squeeze out of her body. All she could do was let the pain whizzle through her body at every beat of her heart. Anita closed her eyes, slowly, and bit her teeth, before she pushed her foot towards her face, and sucked on that toe, tasting the rich blood seep in around her tongue, as she licked the wound, until she could no longer continue 


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