Her cries poured through him like paint through flimsy paper. She begged for escape, but no one came to save her.
She tensed before his raised hand. The swirls of purple and blue hues on her skin pulsed, contorting in a morbid dance.
In the seconds his hand needed to slice through her cries, she saw her colorful self reflected in his eyes.
It was a mumble, barely a whisper. It was enough to freeze his hand in midair.
“Enough.” She would no longer be his canvas.
© Jade M. Wong 2016
Written for Day 8 – Porous and Day 9 – Spiral of OctPoWriMo.