“Don’t. Move.” He hissed, pressing the blade harder against my throat. I could feel the sharp sting where the blade pierced my skin, hot blood drizzling down my neck in a thin stream of warm crimson against the chill-paled skin on my neck. An involuntary hiss of pain escaped from between my lips.

The fire appeared to dim for a second or two before it rose back up in a blaze of glory. They say eyes are the gates to the soul, the soul before me is burning itself alive.