SGE His Guarded Heart (Prequel to His Darkened Heart)

Chapter 10 An Escape

Krushem knew deep down Aric didn't need him. Aric didn't need anyone. As far as anyone knew, Aric was loveless, sadistic and all around heartless.

But still Krushem had wanted to go back to the Schools after the Trial. Still he wanted to go back to him—to Aric, because following Aric was all Krushem had had.

Aric was apart of Elaine's dumb curse anyway. Aric had been the raven with his deep, violet eyes and spiked black hair. Aric had swallowed Krushem whole, his torturous ways had consumed Krushem just as the raven in Krushem's nightmares had swallowed him whole in a dark bottomless pit.

Krushem had been once afraid to follow Aric. Now he was afraid of not having Aric at all.

And now? Now Krushem had nothing. No soldier duties, no henchman duties. Now, he was just a thief in a damn bar that reeked of sweat and onions and alcohol and meat.

Krushem raked his hand through his hair. His hair had grown longer ever since his time at the School for Boys, and the ends felt brittle as if they would break off if he tugged at them hard enough.

The waitress returned with a bottle in one hand and a crystal glass in the other. She placed them both on the tabletop in front of him before leaving once more.

For a long time, Krushem stared at the bottle of whiskey, and he found himself shaking. He sucked in a breath between his clenched teeth and curled his fingers into fists.

Aric went about torturing others because it was a way for him to not be human. He buried his humanity by inflicting pain on those around him.

Elaine, however went about tormenting Krushem because according to her, him and his whole family had deserved to suffer for something that happened way back in the past.

Everybody had their ways of coping with the things they didn't want to face, and Krushem was no different than the rest of them.

So with a shaky hand, Krushem tightened his fingers around the bottle and tipped it down over the shot glass. The dark liquid tumbled out of the bottle, filling up the shot glass halfway before Krushem stopped pouring it. He set the bottle to the side and raised the shot glass up to his lips.

But instead of drinking it right away, he kept his mouth closed tight as if his mind had taken control of his body, screaming at him not to take a sip. Krushem didn't know how long he sat there, the shot glass of whiskey lifted to his mouth, his whole body frozen.

His muscles were tense, his shoulder blades rigid. His hand cupped around the shot glass shook uncontrollably, threatening to spill whiskey all over the tabletop.

Krushem felt his eyes water, but he couldn't bring himself to cry. He didn't want to feel anything at all in that moment and seeing the other customers in the bar, drinking somberly, gazes wide and glassy, Krushem saw that this was his escape.

Krushem struggled to steady his hand gripping his drink. The glass had warmed in his hand and the smell of the whiskey wafted into the air. It was the scent of the woods, of grains and grass. It was like nature in the form of a liquid.

Nature was supposed to be peaceful, calm and therefor this whiskey would be Krushem's peace. And lord knows he could use a bit of peace as of now.

In an act of finality, Krushem tipped his head back and the shot glass along with it. His mouth opened and the whiskey slid down his throat.

Krushem found that there was a surprisingly sweet nuttiness flavor to the whiskey. But the pleasant taste didn't keep the warm burn from igniting on his tongue as he swallowed the whiskey down. The roof of his mouth tingled from the aftermath.