Chapter 7: Kill this abandonment

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The events of the past day haunted my thoughts like a never-ending nightmare. My body was battered and broken, a chunk of my cheek missing, and I was confined to a wheelchair, unable to move freely as I once did.

The room was filled with a palpable silence, one that seemed to echo the emptiness I felt inside. It had been a day since my brutal confrontation with Raoul Bushman, the man I had hunted for years. I had emerged victorious, but the victory tasted bitter, and the silence of Khonshu weighed heavily on my soul.

"Why, Khonshu?" I murmured to the darkness. "Why have you been so silent?" I had expected the presence of my god, the one who had granted me strength and purpose, to offer guidance or at least acknowledge my actions. But there had been nothing, just an unsettling void.

My hands rested on the armrests of my wheelchair, and I stared at them as if searching for answers within my own reflection. The memory of carving off Bushman's face, a gruesome act of vengeance, lingered in my mind like a malevolent shadow. I had thought it would bring closure, an end to my torment, but instead, it left me feeling empty and hollow.

"I did it, Khonshu," I whispered, my voice filled with a mixture of confusion and despair. "I avenged my people, just as you would have wanted. But why do I feel like this? Is this what you intended for me?"

The room offered no reply, and the silence persisted, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I couldn't escape the feeling that I had crossed a line, that the darkness I had embraced had consumed a part of me I could never reclaim.

As the moon cast a faint, eerie glow through the window, I continued to ponder my actions, my purpose, and the enigmatic absence of the god who had guided me for so long. The pain from my injuries gnawed at me, intensified by the lack of painkillers, adding to the torment of my already tormented soul.

The knock on the door startled me from my thoughts, and I turned my head to see the door slowly open behind me. Leone entered the room, her presence a welcome interruption to the suffocating silence that had enveloped me.

She held a small container of opium in her hand, a gesture of compassion and understanding. Leone knew the pain I was in, not just from my physical injuries but the torment that gnawed at my soul. Without a word, she approached and set the container on a nearby table, her eyes filled with empathy.

"Hey, Moony," she said softly, her voice carrying a comforting warmth. "I thought you could use some relief from the pain." Leone knew that the physical pain was just one part of the agony that weighed me down.

I offered a weak nod of gratitude, and she helped me to take a measured dose of the opium. As the drug began to take effect, a soothing wave of relief washed over me, easing the sharpness of the pain.

Leone remained by my side, her presence a silent reassurance that I was not alone in my struggles. In that moment, I realised that even in the darkest of times, there were those who cared for me, who stood by me.

As the opium dulled the physical pain, I couldn't help but wonder if it could also numb the emptiness that had settled within me. Khonshu's silence still haunted me, and I yearned for answers that seemed to elude my grasp.

Leone, ever perceptive, noticed the tears that welled up in my eyes. She sat down beside me, her expression a mixture of concern and understanding.

"Why does it feel so hollow, Leone?" I asked, my voice trembling with vulnerability. "I did it. I finally got him. Bushman is gone, and I should feel victorious, right?"

She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Moony, sometimes victory doesn't bring the closure we expect," she replied softly. "You may have killed Bushman, but he was just a pawn. To truly win, we need to defeat the empire."

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