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She's a lone wolf tonight, her prey the innocent carpet. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she tips her glass, letting the last drops fall onto the floor. The liquid seeps in, claiming the ground. She kicks off her shoes, feeling the wetness between her toes. She walks on it, leaving footprints, marking her territory. She falls to her knees, immersing herself in her golden creation, finding a strange comfort in the dampness, the smell, the sheer taboo of it all.