The flame flickers at the end of the wick. Tilting, the wax slides from its crater across the back of a hand and between the recesses of the knuckles. She grimaces as red wax drips from her fingertips onto the tiles below, knowing this isn’t half as painful as what comes next. She sure as shit isn’t putting her hand through the other side without protection, even if it burns most of her skin. But someone has to grab the sword and sort this fucking mess out, and it looks like it’s going to have to be her.
Paddy Dobson
26th November 2020