Sounds of heavy breathing and a mellow tune echoed through the clothed in tranquil shades of blue. She sat on the seemingly comfortable gray couch, leaning forward with her legs crossed, then looked at me.

“I was driving,” she started. “Then I thought of it again.”

I knew I shouldn’t stare, but I couldn’t help myself. My eyes kept wandering to the scattered layers of fresh pink undertones on her forearms, littered between forming crusts of skin in an oddly parallel pattern.

“I waited for a car accident to happen.” She sighed, pressing circular motions onto her temples.

I supposed she had a traumatic experience, and it led to all of that… There sure was no knowing what humans are capable of.

“I pictured…” she continued, “how one would lay on the ground, moaning in agony…in a pool of blood.”

My eyes trailed along as each step narrowed the gap between us.

“You know,” she teased. “Scars are divine, exquisite.”

Her fingers traced the veins on my neck as I tried to swerve, her hollow eyes darkening in an instant.

What exactly was she trying to do?

“Scars show my power…” her eyes glowed while her slender fingers gripped my stubbly chin, “to outlive a man.”

She was trying to play God.

Her fingers caressed my cheek, then slid down to my neck. Her sharp nails pricked into my skin as the metallic bonds that held me captive shifted with every shiver, echoing through the vacant room.

“So when I scar a man, darling,” she whispered in my ear. “I strip his power.”