KILL ME SOFTLY

18

Still I wasn't oblivious to the possibility of her coming from anywhere and sinking a blade into me, the same one used on her.

Blood, I wonder how much she has lost.

I stepped first into the dark, looking around. As I heard the Laughter and calls of my men closing in.

My eyes scanned lowly, and the idea that she very well might have just run became more of a possibility.

Run. That's what she should do. But, even if she did, run and changes her hair and her name, I'd still find her. Id find her and chain her to the bed, to be sure she'd never run again.

A new Anger begin to rise in me. And I began to think over every reason I did hate her. My fists were stone, and I went to turn around when I saw—

She was sitting against a tree, staring into nothing. Her expression blank as she sat in her own blood. It streaked like raindrops down her thigh.

The short film did nothing to fully show how dark the bruises were, how deep the cuts. How much her eyes didn't look the same as they did before.

She must have known I was there, because she grabbed the knife from the forest floor that was beside her, never taking her eyes of the landscape before her.

"Syn." I said, but it was like she could not hear me. Or simply chose not to.

She killed a man. That changes you. Forever.

I moved closer to her, cautiously. She notice that too, the slowness and my hesitation , and with zero expression she took the knife she was holding and threw it into the bushes several feet from her.

I wondered what she was looking at.

The closer I got, the worse she looked. The foggier her eyes became.

There was no curses, no screams, no attacks. She didn't even move as I now stood beside her. "Syn." I said, now close enough to see the blood, close enough to smell it.

She was covered in her own blood. Her wrists which she held herself with had indents from the chains, as well as her chest and around her back.

She was covered in dirt, and grime and blood.

"let's go." I whispered as I crouched down, and got closer and not even then did she care to look. She put her wrists together and held them out to me. Ready for me to bind her like my prisoner.

She killed a man with her bare hands.

The first kill, is always the worst. Al next few were easy.

"I'll keep you safe." I told her, I promised her I would. And the knowledge I had failed at that made me furious.

she whispered, it was scratchy and low. "I will never be safe" She urged, as I noticed a tear from her eye. One that wasn't the same as those facading droplets in the cell.

Oh flower.

Her body was naked, they had stripped her. Had they touched her? Bruises were on her neck, she chest, bite marks.

I took the blazer from my shoulders and brought it over her shoulders, it was aggressively too big, yet I did it up anyways before I scooped her in my arms with none of her usual protest.

A part of me hated that.

Was she lost? She said she wouldn't break easily. And that was what I knew to be true in the midsts of all other lies.

But being shown hell can make you do things you swore you wouldn't.

She was here for three days and three night. Some cuts already red and inflamed likely from growing infections. Her forehead was hot, her lips cracked.