"Hand it over," the words fell from his lips, as he held his empty left hand out. I couldn't believe this was happening. My Glenn, my dear Glenn; I had been so sure, but now the knife biting into the tender skin of my neck spoke a different story. Ignoring the adrenaline pumping viciously through my veins, I slowly moved my fingers to feel the charm I held in my hand. I remember the day he'd slipped it to me on my way out of the café, and now he wanted it back. But I couldn't part with it, not with the gem that'd given me my freedom, given me hope. I clenched my fist tighter, pressing it hard into the palm of my right hand. No, I wouldn't give in that easily.
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