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The Girl with the Knife

Second Place Winner / 2023 Wintermute Writing Contest Content warnings: gore, death  Everyone said Violet was born lucky. While most people searched for their match—spending millions of dollars on matchmakers and cardiologists—Violet already knew who carried the other half of her heart. She had the mark to prove it. Over her breastbone, a purple knife pointed toward her stomach. Red veins sprouted from the hilt and patterned the blade. It was barely the length of her middle finger. On the surface, it could pass for a tattoo. Violet had seen the mark etched into bone on an X-ray, the knife like a shadowy promise in the radium glow of her sternum. Across the country, a boy her age wore the same knife, red as blood but veined with purple. / One day, Violet’s mother found her bent over the toilet. Her breasts had just begun to swell. Fat gathered around her hips, grew thick on her thighs. With her period came bruises and cuts and nausea. Each time she vomited, her knife throbbed to the bon

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