poor trinidad

The blade cut deep, scraped his rib bones. Trinidad strained against the many hands holding him and screamed. Blood sheeted from his chest, steaming in the cold. He clenched his eyes shut, but calloused fingers pried them open, forcing him to watch as she carved another agonizing gorge into his skin.

Even worse, it's all Castile's fault.  Nothing like launching a love story with a monster dose of guilt. And wait until you find out what she's cutting into him.... Bwahahahaha.

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