Reapers - Thirteen Brothers

XXXXIV - Sharifa

I couldn't think straight. It was like I could still hear Sharifa's whimpers, the sound of Cairo's hand landing on her face. I could still smell the blood on the floor.

It was him. Cairo. The one we fought in Centralia. How he withstood the pain caused by an injury of that extent was still a big mystery to me. But I was right. I felt it in my gut. And Vladimir had to know.

My lungs ached with every labored breath. Blankly, I kept staring at Vincent's face. He seemed to be saying something I didn't quite get or deliberately refused to hear. Putting on a composed façade, he took my shoulders and made me sit on the side of the bed. It just registered to me that we were already inside our room.

"Aramis," he called for who knew how many times, snapping his fingers in front of my eyes as he did.

I didn't blink. I continued to ride the chaos of thoughts inside my head.

"We should do it," I murmured absently, holding onto him as if I would fall into a dark bottomless pit and disappear forever if I let go. It was madness. "We'll do it!"

"Do what?" he said frantically. "Do what, Aramis. Look at me!"

Blinking out of the daze, I stared right through him. "Swear fealty to your father—whatever that means..." I muttered frantically.

His expression darkened as he got up and started pacing the room. There was panic in his eyes.

"Are you out of your mind?!" he roared, his livid voice bouncing off the walls. In the blink of an eye, he was able to rush toward me. He got to his knees and grabbed my arms forcefully. "He wants you to swear full loyalty to him. He wants you—us—to be his playthings. His slaves for all eternity. You'll have to do everything he wants. Everything! He'll take you away from me! Haven't you seen what they're doing to Sharifa? Do you want to live like that forever?"

"I want to live!" I shouted at him. With you. I wanted to say but didn't. He was so thick, so stubborn to see any sense anyway. "He'll kill you if we don't do this."

"This is not about me!" he yelled back, averting his smoldering eyes from me.

"How can it be not about you?" I choked out the words. I wanted to break down but couldn't. I was too overwhelmed, scared, hopeless. I didn't even have the energy to cry. Wasn't he the reason why I was here? Why I hadn't crossed over? "There's nothing you can say that would change my mind. If you don't want to do it, I will," I said in a surprisingly even tone.

Vincent heaved a deep breath, closing his eyes. His fingers dug on my shoulders. "There must be another way," he murmured in a pleading voice. Even he sounded hopeless. "Don't... Don't do this to me."

            It sounded like he wanted to tell me something, but was finding it difficult to do so. His silence was my ally.

"I'm doing this for me," I slapped the words on his face.

After that, he didn't say more. His face was impossible to read. His hands were fisted as he turned his back on me. That was a low blow but I was telling the truth. Somehow. If he died... If he... I couldn't even bear to think of it. I couldn't live with that. Being Death's slave would be better.

I would do it for myself. I was selfish.

I spun on my heels and walked out of the room. I headed somewhere else, anywhere far away from Vincent so I could think without my guilt eating away at me.

If I swear fealty to Pilgrim Reaper, that would mean dragging Vincent to hell with me. Like giving Death an all-expense pass to make both our lives miserable for all eternity; if that would be considered a life at all. It was a selfish choice, but a choice that would keep Vincent alive.