Cattle

“Ah ha! Found it!”

Doc Carmine brandished the template with blue-stained fingers.

He returned to his workbench and pressed his head to the girl’s bare chest, listening. Lingering a little too long.

Still alive, good. They always overdid the spike... it just wasn’t good business to spoil the merchandise.

He hauled her onto her front and held the template against the pale skin of her hip, spreading his fingers to keep it in place, grabbing more flesh than was perhaps necessary.

The spray paint would only stain for a week or two. By then she’d be someone else’s property anyway.




(Originally written for Lily Child's Friday Prediction)