Heather's White Hair

Each second of the echo was getting louder in the low corridor. Dread crept over me as I shivered in a cold metallic enclosure. Why am trembling so much? Is there really anything to be afraid of? As the steps came closer, I muttered to myself trying to calm my racing mind. It was a different kind of feeling compared to any other. I closed my eyes and hoped for my heart rate to steady. The moment I opened them, someone tall and imposing stood there wrapped up with shadowy darkness. When she moved into dim light, my eyes widended for how beautiful she was, someone I had seen before. She had white soft hair that flowed delicately down her shoulders sharply contrasting with her skin which was pale like snow. Bizarre spectacles hid her eyes but their shape suggested a keen look behind them. Her irresistible beauty was a combination of grace and deadliness that made my breath catch in my throat. “Cover your eyes again,” she ordered, her voice icy and commanding. Panic ran through me, but no sooner had it begun than she smoothly extracted a pistol. She pointed it straight at my temple and I held my breath because I saw the end to all this. “It’s goodnight for now” she murmured, her voice barely audible amidst the sudden stillness. The deafening shot pierced through and everything turned pitch black, as I fell, her sharp gaze was still fixed on me. It felt like a shining purple light was staring at me. Was dying making me see things? Oh, I remember now—white hair, purple eyes. How could I forget? Turning myself in and putting me behind these bars wasn't enough to atone for what we've done, am I right, Heather?