“Get Me”
Leave a “Get Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character saving yours.
“Stop.” She says it like it frightens her, and you can tell that it does, her fist is small when it is clenched, but the knuckles still turn white. He can see that she’s afraid, he can hear the quiver in her voice. She stands there, bird-boned. Milk skinned. When he looks up at her the anger that blooms in his chest, that blinding, terrible fury it dulls for a moment. A forest fire paused. There’s a whimper, and he looks down at the boy in his grasp. Pathetic, near pulp. “Please. Jack, please let him go,” she says again, reaching for him. Her fingertips even tremble. The kid makes a run for it, nose bleeding and lip split but safe for another night. She studies him even after the boy is gone, even when all that is left is spilled blood in the snow and vicious, ragged breath as his heartbeat evens. It’s not for his victim that she stopped him, it’s for the monster.