My arms around his neck (my fingers laced the crown)

He wants to cut her, wants to hurt her, make her bleed for God's sake but she merely whips her hand and the mirror sets itself back to one piece. Red eyes watch in horror as the monster stares right back at him again, bald, ashen, sick, cruel and he snaps, spits at her, "Why?" Red sunlight catches in her brown locks and she smiles, dark and secret, "You're born for this, Tom."