Chalice.
For a couple of minutes, all I felt was fear. A crippling fear that rendered me immobile and made it impossible for me to move or breathe.
My hands gripped at the armrests— if that's what I can call these uncomfortable metal bars— of my chair, and my breath hitched in my chest as I looked into the hazel eyes of the man whose voice was enough to send tremors down my spine.
He beamed a smile at me— one that I found more eerie than beautiful— and then spat; "Cat got your tongue?"
I shook my head. More like my fear got my tongue.
My eyes filled with more tears as I slowly melted into my chair, and shaking my head, I whispered; "What do you want?"
"What do you think I want?" He seethed but before I could respond, he added; "Nothing. There's nothing you can possibly give to me. I am just here because my friend needs my help."
"Your help?" I rasped, my voice sounding hoarse.
