“Please,” she whispered.
She looked Fear into his eyes of deceit, and with desperation in her voice, she begged.
“Please. It’s time to let me go.”
Empathy trickled into his venom pulse, as he scanned her for madness. But all he saw was a young girl shaking furiously like autumn leaves in the wind, embellished like a midnight sky of bruises, scars, scratches and a sliced crimson lower lip.
As Fear interrogated her brunette eyes, his empathy slyly evaporated. Her eyes shadowed a conflicting story to her trampled body. She was beaten but not beat.There was a fire of hope and determination dripping from her skin. Her eyes roared with courage.
This amused him greatly.
The silence inflamed, crescendoing into a defining moment under the darkening sky. She, pleading for her life back. And he, drinking this moment in like a Blue Label Johnnie Walker on the rocks.
He made his decision.
“You’re ready,” Fear replied. “Go.”
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