Nevermore

There was a whisper haunting her steps. Her love. Or the monster who was her love. Her breath came in gasps and the scar on her chest was on fire, as though it were turning her heart into ash. She could almost feel his cold breath on her neck, nothing like it was before. The forest overwhelmed her, the sun was no longer shining. A shadow of fear crept into her mind that it never would again. Her dress, dark as the night itself, clung to the thorns tearing at her. The path was uneven and the rough roots made every attempt to drop her to her knees as she ran. Eventually, they got the best of her, the rocks almost seemed to leap up and drive themselves into her knees and palms as she fell. Did she dare look over her shoulder? The tide of temptation over-flowed her pain and fear. He was following her, his horse easily whipping past the trees. No. His cloak flapped back and the hilt of his sword glinted in the dulled out moonlight. No. It took most of her strength to get back up again. It nearly killed her, running away from him when not long ago, she would run to him, her arms wrapping around him. No longer would she feel the softness of his warm shirt on her face. Nevermore. It was never going to be, and her useless, shattering…crushing attempts to make that way again would kill her. It would break her mind and shatter her will. But, still, she kept trying, making every possible attempt to get him to understand, or at least know how much pain she was in. Her legs didn't want to carry her anymore, so let her fall. They let her fall and no one…nothing was there to catch her. She let a mangled scream escape her lips. The path tore at her, but she somehow knew it didn't even match up to what was coming. The pounding hoof beats vibrated through the charred earth and against her fallen body. The ground was cold, it chilled her to the very bone. The great horse he rode upon came to a stop and, out of the corner of her eye, she could see his cloak moving in the nonexistent wind, in fact, it didn't look like fabric. More like a cloud, or wisps of black smoke that trailed him. A terrified, pleading whimper escaped her lips as she heard the metallic ring of a sword being drawn. The sound made her cringe, but she couldn't lift herself. Each step he took toward her was as though a thousand demons were whispering death in her ear. His calm exhale once could have been that of an angel, but no. Now it was taking lordship over the whispers…seeping into her every nerve, chilling her heart, shaping an empty void. She heard a movement of air and could feel the cold steel move through the cold air. Desperate for her own life, she clawed at the ground, her fingernails tearing off and creating a tattoo of blood on her hands. Her feet carried her, but failed. He had overcome her and thrown her to the ground, without the slightest sound. Blood trickled down her face and over her lips as she tried to bring her self up again, without success. He kicked her to the ground once more and raised his arm, ready to bring her to an end. Her head was swimming and red pulsed behind her eyes, but she could see well enough to see the steel flash in the cold moonlight. Before the blade sliced her flesh…she saw the last thing she ever would ever see…a lonely venerable silver snowflake. It was dancing down to her from the heavens, it looked so free…so innocent. It would never hurt anyone, but, yet it is simply ignored, trampled and destroyed. It danced down to her for what seemed like a lifetime, its needle sharp edges glinted silver in the darkness. It was so perfect. Beautiful. And before she could say anything…anything at all, the blade struck, ending her pain, driving through her heart. Her last breath was spent in a scarce whisper of his name. And as he turned his back, the little helpless snowflake landed on the deepening pool of blood…no one would ever see the beauty of what it truly was…no one could bring it back. Her heart was broken.