He stared at her, his dark eyes boring into her soul. “It will take a sacrifice from you,” he said, his voice deep and echoing. “A sacrifice more than most are willing to pay.” He watched her swallow fearfully. “Are you willing to pay it?” he asked.
Trembling, she held out her arm. Her eyes were squeezed tight shut. “If it shall free you, I will make the sacrifice willingly,” she whispered, her voice wavering with fear.
The blade of the dagger was cold against her skin as it was dragged up along her forearm, towards her outstretched hand. Her heart was racing, sweat was beading along her hairline. She was trying desperately not to panic. She was not ready to die. There was still so much more to do.
There was a prick at her finger tip, followed by an irritating squeeze of her finger. “There,” he said, “it has been paid.”
She opened one eye, and then the other. Watching the blood slowly drip from her finger as he wrapped it in a piece of cloth, she turned her gaze upwards to him. “That… that was it?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “Why?”
“Something about ‘more than most are willing to pay‘, I suppose.” She rubbed her wrist, smiling sheepishly. “I… I rather thought you were going to slit my wrist.”
He turned a leveling gaze at her. “I still can, if you would prefer.”
“No, no,” she said hastily, shaking her head.
Inktober 2023, Prompt #15: DAGGER
Whitney Writes... 
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