Chapter 3 The Black Sheep

By the second class, Rachel had already cut class. She left the school and sat in front of an abandoned house, because she had nowhere to go. She held the lamb head on her lap and looked at the wound that her classmates had made on her. Slowly, she took out a little hunting knife and cut herself through the edge of the new wounds and the old scars, without letting out a teardrop from pain nor a tremble of fear.

“The victims’ blood does not make me strong. Only skinning the wolves inch by inch, eating their meat piece by piece, chewing their bones one by one and drinking their blood glass by glass. That makes us stronger, my dear child. ” Said the lamb head.

“I may be a sheep, but I’m the black sheep. I’m not like anyone else and I will never be. I don’t like eating grass. I don’t like shearing and I don’t like to be eaten.” Said Rahel.

“Hunger is such an interesting sensation. The emptier you are, the more power that you can evoke.” Said the lamb head.

“Who knows, wolves might be tasty.” Said Rahel.