Her jeans were soiled with blood. There was blood pooling under her shoes. She put a hand on the fender of her car for support and felt the moistness of blood on the metal. She stared at the deer she’d hit in the darkness. Her car was a mess, probably undriveable, but she didn’t care. Her eyes flooded with tears for the beautiful animal she’d killed.
A car stopped, it’s headlights further highlighting the bloody scene in front of her. She . . .
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