The book in my hand clatters to the floor as the door of my office swings open. I keep my head down, not daring to look at his arrogant walk as he enters.

“Nervous?” The sinister smile in his voice is apparent even in just that single word.

Instead of responding, I carefully rearrange the red pen, papers, and stationary that are kept on my desk. It is the safer option.

The ruffles of paper from behind are loud, almost directly in my ear. He is doing this on purpose. But I cannot look.

However, on his way back to the door he came from, his foot catches on something and he is on the floor. I look down to see the book that he tripped on, the book that I dropped earlier. Then my eyes snap up, though he is staring straight back at me. And as I look into his eyes, there is not enough time to grab my red defense pen before I feel my body slowly becoming immobile and unfeeling, beginning at my legs. “No,” I utter.

His lips quirk up at the sides, simply watching me.

I cannot move. I cannot blink. I can barely breathe anymore. I am turning to stone.

His smile and devilish green eyes are the last view I am granted before I see nothing. The stone has made its way to my face. It is done.

One simple mistake cost me my entire existence, and I wish I would die. I wish I would have died a torturous, long and grueling death over being encapsulated in stone for eternity. I’d be hit by the same truck 5000 times before ever choosing this destiny if it meant I’d meet a real end.

But there is nothing I can do. I am the girl of stone, and girls of stone do not break.

They are already broken.