a -
my thirsty lungs. Fear can be a dreadful thing, killing you before your time comes. Reaching out in the dark, I t
ong. Life screams at me to live it wholeheartedly. Mama talks all the time about creatures lurking in
ut I can't understand a word they're saying. The roaring in my ears must cease for me to hear
n found guilty of killing another member of our k
man's loud, proud voice. "I'm r
or a death. You killed one of our own. Th
gets shaky, trembling. "I.
ctly. It's time f
the darkness of my cell has been all I could see for god knows how long, the
ng they kept me in. Maybe that's why my legs don't want to move. What is this place? Who are these
- god knows what that means - speaks. "This woman is yours
ing down my cheeks. The night is starry. A full moon brightens the sky. Three men in
usts around his neck's punctured skin and chains hold his arms and legs. Yet those shackles pale in contrast to the ones that haunt his
ping through the wounds and down my chest. This can't be happening to me. I won't end up
han the expanse of my shivers. A gentle touch on my shou
ere. I can glimpse through my eyelashes his sky-blu
back on me. "She i
than her who thrived, even in th
his glass with blood. My chest heaves and I freeze. My knees buckle as violent tremors sho
an with blue eyes and a warm voice holds me stea
ole life, I was wrong. There is no such thing as heaven, and I am in hell. Or perhaps in a dream.
mbling voice. It doesn't even sound like my own
someone on my right. I turn in time to see broad shoulders too c
ck liquid. A fine line along my neck ignites a pang of pain. I raise my hands only to discover they are painted in red. My
ice. Turn her
side my head while my muscles succumb to numbness. Why me? Is this a nightmare? Y
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