Bloodthirsty

The scoundrel had his way with me while I was sleeping.

I woke up in the middle of the night, violated. He’d nibbled on my neck, grazed on the front crease of one elbow and feasted on an inner thigh. Bastard came just short of my bikini line. I can’t be sure if he acted alone. He was never apprehended.

When it comes to insects and arachnids, I’m all for capital punishment. I hunt mosquitoes with eyes squinted, hands in clap position like I’m waiting for the final note of a concerto. I’ve executed dozens. The outbreak of chikungunya fever in this part of India makes clemency untenable.