Drabble

"Don't." The word came softly, falling from his lips like the warm breeze of an early summer day. But this breeze stirred from the heart of something dark and cold.

Despite the softness, that one small word cut through the air between them with a force so strong the young woman across from him stumbled backward. One hand grasped the back of a wooden chair for support. There was nothing she could do to protect herself. Not anymore.

Swallowing what she could of the terror that had gripped her the moment she'd recognized the resolve in his eyes, she took a heavy breath for strength. And then she told him. He was too late. "It's already done."