By Kira A. Moore
She stood at the window, light highlighting the tips of her hair, her body draped in the shadow she cast across my bed where I waited in pensive silence. Looking at her I felt a chill creep across my skin, raising goosebumps and I suspected I would never be completely warm again.
Her voice floated across the room, soft as down, brittle and knife sharp,
“Secrets are demons you know. Your hopes. Your dreams. Your trust. They destroy everything.”
She didn’t turn but I felt her eyes burning into mine. “Then they devour your soul.”