"Look what you made me do." Her voice slithers out into the dark alleyway. Icy breath forming a small cloud in the cold winter air. "Look what you made me do. Naughty, naughty man. You should have been patient. Why are men never patient?"

The shadow grows larger.

Down the alleyway, by the street, voices bleed with the din of traffic and pub music. Pub goers. So close, yet they won't hear me. They don't see me. No one will. I'm not speaking. I know I'm not.

"Please. Please. I'm sorry. I won't do it again ... just let me go." I try hard to close my eyes. This has to be a nightmare. This has to be.

"So impatient, just like him." A cold, leathery finger rests on my lips. "You should learn—not everything you covet is yours to take."

"Please. I'm sorry."

Yellow eyes glow like orbs, reminding me of snakes. Cold. Calculating. Unforgiving. An ocean full of wrath.

"Do not compare me to that spineless god." Her voice grits, a strike of metal against hard stone.

"Please."

"I know. You're sorry. Sorry, like the Titans who stood watching." Mirth pools in every syllable as she strokes my cheek. A touch I cannot feel. Maybe a whimper escapes me, for she says, "Hush now. You did what you did. Your days in the sun are done. Now is my turn."

And then nothing. Blackness shrouds me completely.

WC: 240 (According to MS Word)

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