Kerri Maniscalco

“Roses have both petals and thorns, my dark flower. You needn’t believe something weak because it appears delicate. Show the world your bravery.”

“You must know what you mean to me? Surely you must know how I feel about you, Audrey Rose. The thought of losing you…”

“It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood.”

—MACBETH, ACT 3, SCENE 4

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

“Oh? Where in a medical dictionary does it say a woman cannot handle such things? What is a man’s soul made of that a woman’s is not?” I teased. “I had no idea my innards were composed of cotton and kittens, while yours were filled with steel and steam-driven parts.”

Science never abandoned me the way religion had that night.

Science never abandoned me the way religion had that night.

Forsaking the Holy Father was considered a sin, and I did it repeatedly. Each time my blade met with flesh, I sinned more and welcomed it.

God no longer held dominion over my soul.

“Roses have both petals and thorns, my dark flower. You needn’t believe something weak because it appears delicate. Show the world your bravery.”

Halfway through the alley, a pebble knocked out of place behind me. I whirled to see… nothing.

No scythe-wielding murderer or drunken bar patron. Only an empty black space between buildings. Must have been a rat crawling through rubbish.

Pretending a monster wasn’t there didn’t make it go away. It only made one vulnerable to its attack.

Squaring my shoulders, I took one giant step toward the crowd before being dragged backward by an unseen force. I opened my mouth to scream, but was quickly silenced by a large hand covering the lower half of my face.