"Such nonsense you humans talk," said Scriddle, and stabbed her.
Poison's violet eyes went wide in surprise and disbelief. The knife had gone in low and to her side, beneath her ribs. She gaped, and blood trickled in runnels from the corner of her mouth. Her body had suddenly become numb and cold; she barely felt this new pain from the blade, for shock swamped it in ice.
He wrenched the knife free, and she juddered. A moistness was spreading across her hip and the outside of her thigh. She looked into Scriddle's dark eyes, saw the glimmer of triumph therein. How could this be happening? She had been so sure, so sure...
Then Pariasa screamed. It was a high, fluting sound, terrible to the ear, for a voice so beautiful should never be distorted in fear or distress. Scriddle looked, and he saw too. The walls seemed to be thinning, becoming less solid than they once were. Pariasa's eyes were fixed on her delicate hands, through which the structure of bonework beneath could nearly be seen. She staggered weakly, collapsing on to a settee. Poison shuddered in a breath. Even the air seemed fake, as if it was all dissolving into a dream.
Scriddle turned back to her, wild-eyed. "What is this? What are you doing?"
"I told you," she whispered, with a note of triumph in her voice. "You can't kill me. This is my tale."
My love, you must listen to her, Pariasa cried.
"No!" Scriddle shrieked, and he plunged the knife into Poison a second time. This one was deeper, and in her stomach. She whimpered at the impact, at the terrible piercing of the blade through her flesh. Once more the knife was pulled out, wet with her blood. She tottered, and would have fallen if Scriddle had not been holding her up, for he had grabbed her by the throat again. There was no strength left in her, nothing left to resist him with. A tear slid from one violet eye, dropping to the stone floor. She fancied that it might pass through, for the floor was so wan and faded now that it was almost ghostly, and would have been incapable of supporting them of they were not so ghostly too. Her vision glazed over, but she could still see how Scriddle's hair was falling out in clumps, how his teeth had become loose, how the knuckles stood out on his knife hand. In the background, Pariasa was levering herself weakly to her feet.
Stop! she cried. You're killing us!
But Scriddle had madness in his eye. "She will not beat us this way! She's a human!"
"You're...already beaten," Poison said, managing a red smile. "Finish it. The last laugh will be mine."
Scriddle howled in fury, and he raised his knife a third time to plunge it into her. But at that moment, Pariasa launched herself towards him, a knife of her own appearing in her slender hand, and with a cry she buried it in the side of Scriddle's neck. The world seemed to shudder to a halt.
I want to live, she whispered.
Scriddle's eyes went wide, and he struggled backwards, clutching at his throat. Poison slumped to the floor, no longer supported by his grip. He still kept his gaze fized on her, as if it were she that had put the blade in him and not his lover. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a tide of blood that washed over his chin. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he toppled backwards, crashing through a dressing-table and bringing it down on top of him.

larhz...I like my new template...akasha is the prettay =D...simple template this time...got the pic from messa...can go to her blog via the places link at the side...and realized that my tagboard is super fat...tried to make it thinner but it doesn't seem to change...so now it's taking up alot alot alot of space...stupid fatso...