When the Bough Breaks

As Tobias said, that was beautiful (though very tragic). It reminded me almost of noir; it could easily be a silent movie.

It tickles as I run my finger along its edge.

This was the first time I've ever read this description. In a literary world of cliché and redundancy, this line especially stands out to me, and in context (narrated by a little girl), it was delightfully chilling.

I plunge my hands into your wounds, marvel at how slippery and warm it feels inside you. I press my bloodied fingers to your lips.

“Mmm, tastes good, doesn’t it?”

And this just flat-out gave me goosebumps. While the subject may leave me biased in your favor, I didn't see anything out-of-place in this story.

I would love to see more of your writing.