The stream of fear trickled toward her soul. Crimson as her blood and thick as tar, its movement was judged only by the increasing disomfort she felt spread throughout her body.
The discomfort heightened. As skin, bone and muscle absorbed the poison she was immobilised, helpless, defenceless. He was coming.
His footsteps echoed in her head, the steady beat of a war drum. His smell assailed her nostrils and burned at her sinuses while his presence bounced off the enveloping darkness, resonating in her head. It was a sound only she could hear.
"My love," he purred, his voice suave as sin.
She was utterly frozen. No sound escaped her pale lips, and this seemed to anger him.
"Well? Speak!"
But still she could not. His eyes burned golden under his hood, the sole illumination in the eternal darkness. But no warmth came from those eyes, no empathy. They burned with hate.
"Very well, if you insist," he smiled.
A slender white hand escaped from the folds of his cloak and he raised it to his mouth. He laid a kiss on his index finger and then brought it to her forehead.
"For you my love."
He was barely legible, but she knew the words he had said nonetheless. For he had said them so many times before, words that she would never forget.
One touch was all it took.
The poison caught fire, ripping through her veins. She clenched shut her eyes, but all she saw was that pair of ocher eyes, flaming, burning through her soul. Multiple spasams rocked he body, and a solemn, silent scream finally shook her awake and silenced her pain.
-- © Katie Delaney
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