When she told me that she wrote the letter with her blood I smelt it. Blood red letters winked at me from her letter. A letter written with letters. 'Blood letters', she whispered in my ears. I looked at her. Madness danced in her eyes. Her eyes told me to keep reading the letter. I smelt it again. All I could smell was ink, blood red ink. I looked back at her. She had an unsettling smile on her face. 'This is ink', I told her. Her smile hid behind her mad eyes. Before I could do anything she grabbed a knife and cut her arm. She was bleeding. Something familiar was spreading its smell all around. Ink, blood red ink. She was bleeding ink.
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