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Coward. Just like with Father. The symmetry in their deaths is sickening. Both run through in the chest. Both bleeding out before me. Both left lying on the ground, left to rot without a burial. Both deaths ending in me running.
I know exactly what he is carving into my skin, can feel it with each swipe of his sword. He is branding me before death, and it’s almost more painful than the agony racking my body.
Im gasping
“It was when he killed your father.” The world spins around me, threatening to throw me to the ground. This can’t be happening. He’s lying. He’s a liar. He’s—
HES LYING RIGHT
“Weak. Just like your father—” The sword I drive through his chest shuts him the hell up. My next words are hollow, horribly calm. “This is for my father.”
Im stunned.
I’m suddenly back in my old home, hidden behind a cracked door as I watch a sword plunge into my father’s chest. The sword held by a boy with wavy black hair, a boy with gray eyes full of fear, a boy who just became a murderer. I shudder as my eyes sweep over that same black hair, those same gray eyes, and the same murderer before me. The sight of him now suddenly makes the memory of that night clearer than it ever has been before.
“Run, Paedyn. Because when I catch you, I will not miss. I will not falter. I will not make the mistake of feeling for you.” I’m frozen, still standing in the freezing rain. “Go!” he yells, his voice breaking. “Go before I find someone who isn’t a coward, someone who isn’t a fool, and let them bury this dagger in your back right here, right now.”
I reach out with trembling fingers and close them, unable to stand seeing Kitt’s eyes so lifeless.
OH KITTS EYES TOO
Thick, hot liquid runs down my brand, my body, my very being. Honey. That’s what I tell myself. It’s just honey.
I can glimpse that grief peeking out in the hard set of his jaw, the constant crinkle of his brow, the bounce of his knee. But I know he’s mourning more than one person. I know I am.
I stand from my seat and stride over to the one with faded brown leather, filled with the memory of a dead king. And then I sit down, slowly. “Bring me Paedyn Gray, Enforcer.”
SCREAMING
But I wasn’t about to let Father know I was still in pain. I also wasn’t in the mood to have my leg sliced open over and over again until I got it right.
Oh he deserved that sword
A boy. That’s what I was before this moment. Now I will be a monster every moment after.
:(
