you were a siren. inherently tricky, hard to trust but easy to fall for.

sirens were the bane of wednesday’s existence. the idea that, despite years of hard work and dedication to herself, a few words could have her reduced to a blabbering mess? she’d cut the tongue of any that dared serenade her.

and you had found yourself atop her list.

opening your door, you’re met with a knife to the throat - directly above that necklace.

“move and i’ll carve out your vocal chords.”