Deep cut

There was no explanation behind her smirk, but one thing was for sure- it was vengeance. She was a living dead and the only reason of her very existence was her desire to purge- to murder her killer- before she kills her flesh, the only thing remaining in her being. She was not the same Catarina everyone had known. Her eyes that once had sparkled with delight were through with tears and filled with rage.

It was all grim and humid. The waxing moon followed her behind as she ran through the narrow alley and headed her way to a small lodge where it seemed no lights were lit for so long.

No one was there- no one had seen her, she convinced herself. She glanced at the moon behind and then she hasted inside as if the moon told her so.

She quivered with grudge as the pain from her memory haunted her.

The moon won't let Catarina be out of its sight so the bruises, the wounds, the pain remained unhealed and they were all becoming fresh. She could barely look at herself in the antiquated man-sized mirror which she smashed by her once fragile hands. It was all coming back to her every time the moon illuminated the inside through the window. And seeing her reflection reminded her of Geri even more.

He was the nightmare who stole every good thing from her. The nightmare who raped her. The nightmare who once had taunted her, consumed her and turned her into an outrageous monster.

She unzipped the bedraggled black pouch of pins and needles without interrupting her steady gaze to herself through the broken mirror. There was no going back. She was almost done. The clean white envelope has been labeled with her cursive penmanship "Catarina" at the back. It was placed under the safest spot where it couldn't get tarnished- under her bed. She was carefully watching herself through the spiral reflections made by the mirror cracks. It was taking her so long to retrieve the blade from the worn-out sewing kit, but it was not intentional.

So she hurriedly looked for the blade then immediately cut her neck deep from the left beneath the ear to the other.

Catarina was fixed into her eyes by the mirror as she tried to feel the pain, but she was too numb. There was an unending ooze of blood and the blade could no longer be seen as she thrust it harder into her neck. With a red veil, the blade was a bride walking down the aisle to meet its groom, death. Catarina's white dress was all soaked with the blood that was once pure and was stained by horror. The splatters of blood scattered onto the floor, the bed sheet and the mirror as she gasped coughs when the blood had reached her throat. The blade was beyond halfway through the neck, and before she stumbled down, she had carried out a deep slash to the rest.

"Found her smirking...eyes wide open," the police gossiped.

"And a suicidal note?"

----
There's nothing more I could think of doing but to put an end to this. It's the least I could do for myself, and I was dead anyway. I was being pulled by two evils on both ends and I had to give in to the lesser one. Indeed, I got nothing to lose at all. I died the very time he had gone inside me: he forced me; he ripped me; caged and shackled me inside an unbearable nightmare. I was petrified as he thrust himself a thousand times in me. It was beyond torture and cruelty. In the mirror, I would always see how filthy I had become after Geri had raped me. I lived the succeeding days and nights in a living hell. I couldn't bear it much longer and I thirsted for vengeance. To murder him as he murdered me was the only way I could break the prison where I was locked in. I wanted him to suffer and feel the pain that he inflicted me. "Forgive me." I could have forgiven him if he did not let me live. I was too numb to hear his voiceless pleads as I slowly cut open his left thigh and stitched it back. His blood drained and I felt no pity, like his bulging eyes indulging for lust that night of the rape. My poor dress, I was swimming in a pool of his filthy blood. He should not have spared my life. I was never thankful for it. It was the last euphoric moment of my dead life- "No...Please...n.." I enjoyed pretending to be a butcher as I cut him piece by piece and buried the pig.
----

"Man...there ain't no guy Geri." continued the police.

"What you mean?"

"There ain't no rape, man."

"But the letter?"

"...freakin false stories. All of it. Except the part where she cut herself, I guess."

"...Damn gore"

"damn...all happened inside her head...got physical."