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doot doot
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"Ah... uh..."

Raina struggled to say something, anything. She knew that somewhere deep inside, just out of reach, there was something she could say to make all of this not real. Something she could do to prove it was all wrong, and then she could fix it.

The bleeding had stopped.

Penelope's eyes were closed but her jaw was slack, tears still fresh on her cheeks. She didn't look a damn thing like she was just sleeping, like people loved to say about the dead.

The dead. Penelope was dead.

In the end, no words came. Raina just turned to the side and threw up, sobbing between heaves.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."

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Anemia · The Asylum Library