Drabble Series: What’s Done

I hated him, but this seems so cruel. I had stood there, begging him not to open the door, knowing he’d have to, have to prove himself, have to throw me aside and open the door. He thought it would be there, and it was. As he grows silent, I step over the corpse to get to the little golden idol. I think of the sacrifices made in ancient times, how this golden trinket was washed in blood to honor some horrible god. Gold is cold to the touch, but it shines in the eye. His face has no eyes.