The Wolf

Ch. 57: Killing Innocence

~Nico~

I look up to see the camp's infirmary building looming before me. My breath catches in my throat. Hot lead pours into the soles of my shoes, preventing me from taking a single step. Darkness eats at the corners of my vision as I forget how to breathe. Just when I thought that these trials couldn't get any worse, I was wrong.

Like a wooden puppet, I take stiff steps toward the front entrance. I know what I'm going to find inside and I don't think that I'm going to be able to kill him. But that's exactly what I thought about Blake. I'm just going to have to bite the bullet and grit my teeth through the pain. I've already come this far, there's no way that I can turn back now.

My sneakers squeak as they drag against the tile floor. The overhead lights glare fluorescent white that makes my reality seem like some dream. It's as if I'm not really myself, but watching myself move through the halls. I can see myself putting one leg in front of the other. I can see my ruffled hair, muddy jeans, and blood-covered hands. My face is startlingly pale in the light, I look as if I'm a ghost myself. And then I'm in front of the door. Room 213. My hands shake as I grip the door handle and let myself in.

I stand in the doorway for a long while, debating whether I should enter or not. The room is dim with the lights off. The only source of lights is coming through the window, watercolor-grey sunlight. Butterflies slam against my stomach, aching to burst free. Air refuses to settle in my lungs. My eyes travel over the white walls and land on the figure lying in the bed. Machines beep like the knell of a bell, each sound echoing through me, reminding me that his suffering is on my hands.

My fingers find their way into my hair and I grab fistfuls. Tears cause my vision to go blurry and I sink to the floor inside the doorway. I'm on a thin line that I doubt that I can return from. I rock back and forth on my heels, taking in deep, reckless breaths without seeming to breathe at all. Pathetic whimpers escape my lips that turn into mournful howls. I sob with my head against the floor, bowed down toward his hospital bed as if in forgiveness for the sins that I've committed. Can he forgive me? Will he ever forgive me? No, how could he ever forgive me?

All that I've done is act out of my own selfish will. I didn't want him to die. I just wanted him to live. I wanted him to be the same happy, carefree person that I knew and loved. But look at him! He's rotting away, tied up to machines. The only thing that I've done is caused him and his mate to suffer further. She thinks that he'll wake up. She thinks that they have a future. Isn't she just going to hurt more after having her shred of hope mercilessly crushed when he doesn't wake up?

I somehow manage to pull myself off of the ground and stagger to the bed, still crying. I sink into the chair beside his bed and stare at his sunken in cheeks. My hands tremble as I grab his.

"I-I-I" I swallow over a lump in my throat and try to catch my breath. "I'm so sorry-" I stop again as my voice cracks. I lean over the bed with my head slumped over. I can't even get the words out. Why is this so hard? My fingers tighten over his limp hand, feeling the clammy, cold skin. I bite my lower lip, swallowing back the tears. "I'll make it stop now. I'll make the pain go away."

Gently, I set his hands back over his chest. I stand up from the chair and make my way over to the machines on the other side. My hands hover over the plug. I take a final glimpse at his peaceful face and pull the plug out of the sockets. The machine cries before going silent. I lean against the bed and put my head in my hands.

"Farewell, Dom," I whisper.

Dom's not the only one who died in this room. As someone who has lost a piece of their soul, I can say that these trials are eating away at me. I'm sure that by the end there'll be nothing left.