“No, please, stop,” his voice rumbles and cracks, just like a storm.

“Did you stop for Lynn? For Ashley?” my ice cold breath chills my words.

The depthless blue lakes of his eyes grow to oceans in moments. The pillow cradles his shaking head, rocked like a baby. He again tries fruitlessly to pull free.

“Please, I – I have money! More than whoever is paying you,” crystal clear water falls from his eyes.

“You’re resorting to begging? You’re a pig, a filthy one at that! Those little girls will never celebrate their big one- O because of you,” I glide over to the door, sending the bolt home.

He tries yelling, but the roar never leaves his throat. Tisking I reach down to retrieve my flute. The notes I learned long ago shove their way into my thoughts, though I know they won’t be played. I quickly put my white hair into a ponytail, then sit on a chair where I can face him.

I finally lift the soundless air around him, just enough so I can hear his last words. “Who are you?”

My grey eyes meet his, and I place the flute to my lips. I think of the song best suited for my victim, replying, “They call me Breeze.”

And then the music fills the room along with the tasteless and scentless toxin.