Someone Stop Her Novels & Stories

she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. He met her gaze, his face unreadable. "It happens," he said, pouring her another shot. "The key is knowing when to stop before everything falls apart." Marcelline laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "I don’t know how to stop," she said. "I’ve never known how to stop."

I wanted to never stop, i wanted to pick her up and take her away and keep her. Then she stopped. She pushed against my chest with both hands. It was not a violent push, it was a final push. She moved back one step, she was breathing hard. I was breathing hard too. Her eyes were wide open now. They were full of fear but also something else. “No. We cannot,” she whispered. Her voice was shaky. “Why not?” I asked her. My voice was rough. I wanted to kiss her again right now. I hated that she stopped.

"Do you want me to stop?" She stared down at him. Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes were wide and dazed, her hair a wild mess on the pillow, her cheeks flushing deep rose. "No," she breathed. "God, no. Don't stop. Please don't stop." Something in his chest unlocked. "Say it again." "Don't stop," she whispered. "Damien, please." He lowered his head, and this time around he took his time.

"How do I stop them?" She looked at me. "You do not stop them. You destroy them." ~`~`~`~`~`~`|~`~`~`~`~`~`|~`~`~`~`~`~` The days that followed were strange and quiet.

he asked. She didn’t answer. “You stayed when it was easier to walk away. You stood in arenas full of people who judged you. You kept showing up.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I almost didn’t tonight.” “But you did.” He brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “And you sang.” A small laugh escaped her despite herself. “That was embarrassing.” “It was brave.” She looked at him again. “What if she doesn’t stop?” “Then I stop it.” “How?” He unlocked his phone again.

“And that’s why something else keeps coming out instead.” “Yes.” Silence. Then— “…stay.” This time, she doesn’t even try to say her name first. It just— Slips. Cleaner than before. Closer to something that could hold. She steps back like she’s trying to distance herself from her own voice. “That wasn’t me,” she says again. “I know.” “Then stop it!” “I can’t stop it for you.” “Then what—” “You have to break the path.” She freezes. “How?”

"I knew what she could do. That isn't the same as knowing how she did it." "So what do you know?" He considered the question. "She could stop an act of violence when she was there to witness it. I've seen her stop a Huntsman from striking a werewolf, and I've seen her stop a werewolf from attacking a Huntsman. It only lasted a few seconds." "Long enough to get between them." "Usually." I looked down at my notes. "So I can't just tell someone to stop doing something annoying?" "If that were possible, your grandmother would have used it on me years ago."

Now she stood between us, slightly off to one side, with her hands held out. "Please," she said. "Both of you. Stop it." "He was the one who started it," I said. "I know. I know that he did. And I also know the reason why." "So go ahead and tell him to move." "I'm not able to do that." "Kesh—"

Then she stopped. It was not a pause. It was a stop, the kind a horse makes at a gate, and I understood that we had arrived at the place she had been practising towards, and that she did not know whether she could get over it. I did not speak. I have never in my life wanted so badly to speak.

I asked. "I didn't do it," she replied, and I was about to turn her back to me, but I was so mad at that time that I stopped her. "This is the last time that I am going to tell you this. You better stop whatever you wanted to do to her. I am not going to just sit and let you do whatever that pleases you."