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...Sartana of the Dead, Django of the Dead, because there were open seats next to him. As she sat next to Django, Voltura noticed something off about him. He looked like a fucking mess! If that was even possible, considering he had no hair or skin. But she had seen it in his eyes. Like he would die- Er, die again if he didn't get off that bus as soon as he did.
But he should have sewn that hole in his pocket, because this necklace he had with him fell out. It was bird-themed, and Voltura felt it was only right to punish the (literally) brainless child's stupidity by taking it.
Oh God, if only she had known the shit that would follow.
That night, as she lay in her bed while her daughter was trying to find relief for some sort of headache she had, she could only think about one thing: Rodolfo Rivera, her ex-boyfriend. Who she broke up with in high school. Being with him, touching him… having him touch her. Him being all over her… yes… yes…
The more she thought about it, the more the necklace made her want it. She had always hated him, but at the same time secretly still harbored feelings for him. Why these feelings were now coming up the way they were, or why they were coming up at all, she didn't know. But they were, and she couldn't stop them, nor did she want to stop them.
The necklace was in possession now. All through th...