love cuts

He grabbed the back of her head with his fingers in her hair. Then he leaned over and kissed her. It was the culminating moment, this kiss.
At one time, she thought she'd never see it happen. It was just as perfect as she had imagined.
Except for the knives that soon appeared at their throats. They were pretty knives, pretty big knives. If they were ceremonial, they certainly looked real.
She began praying desperately that they would stop kissing. The knives were cutting through skin. She could see the blood trail, thin red lines that lay across their throats as he pulled himself off her. Her brother and her best friend were supposed to be the great romantic story. Effie watched, horrified. What if her dreams had been a warning and not a prophecy to follow?
Then the knives fell.
Comments (1)
The POV misdirect is mean. I mean that as a compliment. You let us settle into "oh, this is her kiss," then yank the rug. Great