Unworthy of Hate

Beneath the rainy sky, Clara watched as Dante, holding a sharp dagger, carefully carved away the skin where the tattoo lay. He used all his strength, each stroke scraping down to the bone.

Blood poured from the wounds, mixing with the rain, making the bright red color even more vivid. She didn't intervene or say a word; her face was like when she saw him carve Stella's name onto his ring finger.

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