Never Force Her To Speak

Summary

I was born with a jinxed tongue. Whatever dark thing spilled from my lips always came to pass.

When I was six, the human trafficker who snatched me snapped my left wrist in a fit of rage. I locked my eyes onto his and hissed through grit teeth: "You break my bone, I take your head."

Before the echo of my voice faded, the wind ripped a heavy steel signboard from the rooftop overhead. Its rusted, razor-sharp edge sheared clean through his throat. His head rolled into the gutter before his body even hit the pavement.