"why aren't you scared of me?
why do you care for me?"
★・・・・・・★
a girl trained to kill since she was born is sent on a mission to take down the Volturi, but isn't able to bring herself to do so...
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"REALLY?" SANTIAGO ASKS, STANDING UP STEPPING TOWARDS ME WITH A BRIGHT AND WIDE SMILE.
I smile back, not being able to not, and nod. "Yeah. I mean, I should get to live my last days in solace, right?"
Santiago chuckles. "Thats right, kid! So, when do you wanna go?"
"How about now?" I ask and my excitement starts to bubble up even more, but then I glance down at myself and it retreats; my skin is still sheened with sweat and specks of blood, and my clothes are hardly presentable. "Um, actually... Maybe after I shower?" I look up at him as I change my answer.
He looks me up and down, an expression of disgust soon takes over his previous one. "Yeah, that'd be best."
I laugh at him and then gather a towel and a new pair of clothes. I turn for the bathroom and am about to close the door, but I look at Santiago before I do. "Santiago," I call his name and he looks up from the comforter of my bed he was inspecting, "thank you—for coming to get me and for letting me realize I have more options."
A smug smile presents itself on his lips. "I am pretty great."
I roll my eyes at him before closing the door to my bathroom. I quickly strip from my sweat ridden clothes and kick them off to the side, starting the water and hopping in the shower soon after.
Whilst scrubbing my scalp with soap, I begin imagining what it may look like when I finally get to see the kings again. I wonder how they'll react—will they be happy or upset with me? I really hadn't thought about it because I never thought I would get the opportunity to see them again, but now I do have the opportunity.
I'm sure they'll be happy, right? I want to tell myself yes, but doubt begins to etch its way into my mind and starts morphing my fantasies into paranoid thoughts.
I picture them seeing me and then immediately shoving me back out onto the street, not wanting anything to do with me anymore.
Two months doesn't seem like an insurmountable amount of time, but without them it feels like it; each day drags on like my life has been set in slow motion, I can only imagine it may be the same for them.
I'd be hurt for sure, I'd do the same as I picture them doing to me without any hesitation.
As I rinse my body and hair, ridding them of suds, the doubts bounce around my mind and anxiety forms a ball in the center of my stomach.
Its exhausting, the way my mind can take something so happy and exciting and turn into something so daunting and anxiety inducing. How did I go from picturing my return with happy images to picturing it with fear?
