Part 2 The translator - Glimpse VI

She recognized the situation for what it was and refuse to reply or move, she knew this nightmare would be hard to get out of, but she had done it before, yet now she was alone with no help.

He got up from the couch, annoyed, and as he approached her, she transformed her body into copper with a layer of rust on top so that when he grabbed her arm she just melted away and left only blue-green dust in his glass hand.

- Knock it off, this is serious, you are at the end of your line.

She then extruded a small blade in her fist and shoved it into his left cheek and up into his eye. He let out an angry scream and golden blood came out of his wound, evaporating into glitter soon after it left his body, none of the drops of his blood ever reached the floor.

- Damn it, do you want to die? Make up your mind. You’ve always been an idiot, so let me makes this clear for you, give me the rest of the poems and I will let you rest in peace.

- It’s the only thing keeping me alive, why would I give that up, your words mean shit.

- Now you want to live, ok, at least we got that settled. He said walking into the light from the window.

His body was see through and she could swear she could see his innards and even the shiny gold liquid pooling up in his head. He was hemorrhaging inside.

“Could he die?” She wondered, “No, no creature would be this calm if it was in real danger, it didn’t work”.

- We found your little, friend, he’s dead now, and we’ll soon find whoever he sent the pages to. It’s just a matter of time and we have plenty of that. Now, I am a generous god-

She smirked and laughed, interrupting him.

- So... if you wish to save that person, if they prove to be as stubborn as your friend, just tell me, you can write them here. And he pushed an open book to her, it had the last poem, the first 4 were still missing, and there were empty pages she could fill.

- I don’t know them, never read all 5, if I had, you know all too well it would have been a different conversation.

- Just give me what you got so that I can be done with you, I’m tired of your face, you’re a horrid person.

- Look who’s talking, you’re the biggest liar I know, and why have you been copying that writer's voice and body all this time. I knew he looked familiar, but never made the connection until now, what kind of sick joke is this?

- He didn’t want it anymore, just like you, at least he had the decency not to damage it. And he said this with emphasis on the last words, as if she had broken his own property.

- Let me go, or I’ll stab you again.

- Look, my patience is running thin, just-

- Fine! Kill me, what are you going to do that I wouldn’t have done to myself!

He paused for a moment and she realized she ran her mouth of as usual, without thinking.

- I will make an example of you and you can watch.

The floor opened underneath her, and she fell into a black pit. When she opened her eyes, the writer was on top of her on the floor of her room, choking her, his hands tightly around her thin neck.

She tried to kick and hit him, but her arms were under his shins and her knees couldn’t reach to hit him well enough. She was slowly but surely choking, and she had no air to scream.

He squeezed harder, all the while with a vacant look on his face as if he was looking at something behind her, no soul seemed to be left in his body, no smiles, no witty jokes.

He squeezed until she heard a cracking-pop sound in her neck.