a fic about cucali not knowing her own strength

"Fuck you, scumblood." Cucali tightened her grip around Paloma's neck. The girl's eyes widened as she found herself unable to breathe, fear finally crossing over her face. She tried to say something, but her words were cut off, strangled.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, making me feel the way you do?" Cucali's grip tightened. "And while this happens you go around as if nothing's wrong! Happily smiling away as if this shit's normal!"

She struggled, but it was useless. "Well let me tell you right now! I don't give a shit about you! I! Don't! CARE!" Cucali shook Paloma by the throat, and she heard a terrible crack.

Paloma fell limp.

"Don't fuckin' pull that shit with me," Cucali shook Paloma again as fear entered her voice. "You hear me? Don't--" But it was obvious. Paloma was dead.

"Don't..."

Cucali didn't realise she was shaking as she shifted her grip, cradling Paloma's lifeless body. She reached up with a hand to stroke Paloma's cheek. It was still warm.

"Oh god. Don't do this. Don't fuckin' do this. You're not this fuckin' weak. You're seriously not."

Paloma said nothing back.

"Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!" Cucali threw Paloma's body down, kicking at it as her voice raised to a scream. "FUCK YOU!"

But there was no reply.

Cucali turned away, tears pricking her single eye.

"Fuck you..."

She wasn't even sure who she was talking to.

She'd killed Paloma.

She'd found someone who could stand all her bullshit and who actually pitied her and she killed her.

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you..."

Cucali wasn't crying.

Not at all.