Fleeting Love

I don’t know what I expected when I brought her here. I mean, I knew we were different. I knew we grew up in practically different worlds. I just loved her so much. I had to; had to be with her.

I remember vividly the first time I saw her; walking along the banks, humming beautifully out of tune. I wanted to approach her then, but I was frozen. I watched from afar, and I followed, and I waited.

One night, I watched a silhouette attack her through her cottage window. Stark anger burned my eyes. I rushed in. She was curled up, grasping the bed post tightly, tears streaming from her bruised eyes. Her pale mate saw me. He looked past my hand with eyes of confusion, fear, and madness as he suffocated.

She had fainted by the time I went to her. I would make her safe.

She thrashed as we entered the swamp. Screamed as the last of her air bubbled out of her throat. She was cold and limp when we reached the bottom.

I hold her, twirling my cold webbed fingers through her golden hair.

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