[ WP ] Whenever a person dies of natural causes , everyone around that death absorbs an attribute of the deceased .

She had always been jealous of Patricia. From her immaculate hair to her lovely smile, she had everything Janet ever wanted. She had tried simply being around her, as if the mere proximity would be enough to sate her desires. No, Janet had to have her, she had to **be** her. 
 
 Patricia's blood was everywhere, every pore in Janet's body basking in it's glory, the body laying limp on the floor. Janet was beyond excited, this was the moment, her breathing shallow and irregular. Knife in hand and covered in blood, she waited for the transfer. She did n't care what she got, fingers crossed for nose, as anything would be an improvement on her current form. 
 
 She just stood there, soaked in blood, waiting for her skin to split open or bones to crack as they relocated. She recalled the sensation from last time, her eyes having expanded and contracted for at least an hour before getting the size right, and how much she enjoyed her new hazel color. She panted heavily in anticipation, welcoming the pain, until she realized the time had passed. 
 
 She had n't changed and, unlike all the other times, was not yet satisfied. Now, because of her, this perfect nose would never breathe again. She wailed in anger for as long as her lungs permitted, dropping to her knees in the process. She punched the ground so hard she could feel bones breaking, vowing that her sacrifice would not be in vain. Filled with new determination she stood up, wiped away the blood around her mouth, and gripped the knife tight with her injured hand to feel the pain again. 
 
 The woman was walking on the pier alone, she would do just fine. Janet readied the knife, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. She had to make it right, and quickly. As she studied the woman as she always did, she started noticing different things than usual. She was beautiful, sure, but her eyes were darting all across the place erratically. The long coat was wrapped tightly around her lithe frame as she walked at a pace that was clearly uncomfortable. Janet held her breath. She was *afraid*. 
 
 The beautiful woman walking alone on the pier at night was actually afraid. Afraid of thugs, afraid of murderers, afraid of? Afraid of... 
 
 Afraid of Janet. She could feel her hand trembling as the sight of this woman had brought back memories of terror. Memories where she was so afraid, so afraid of this woman with the knife, so afraid as the blood left her body and she knew nothing but darkness. So afraid... 
 
 If she listened closely, the woman on the pier would have heard the sound of a knife dropped against weathered concrete.
