Lamb To The Slaughter ✔️

22

A R I A

I'm supposed to be a saviour. 

A gift to the Earth, to heal, to bring back the dead, to be good. I've known my entire life I want to be good, it's all I ever wanted, I'd cry over it as a child. I'm here to balance out the murders that come from Atlantic, heal his victims, but I do not.

Instead, I'm with him, trying to help him. The opposite of what I should be doing.

We're back at my house. It feels weird to be here. Like it's not my house anymore, but it is, not a thing has been moved, even Atlantic's fucking dent in the wall is still there.

I'm supposed to save, but instead, I continue to kill. Yesterday I believe I killed 23 people. Deep down in my core, I feel guilty, I know that's not what I'm supposed to do. But that guilt gets overridden by this power that I feel, each time I kill, it's like an addiction, I just want to do it again. 

I'm supposed to be a saviour. 

"Chicken or salmon?" I ask him as he walks into the kitchen from my bedroom, holding up both options. But his eyes don't even look at me, they ignore what I say, as he walks into the living room. "Alright, steak it is."

I begin getting the food ready. I'm not surprised that he ignored me. He's been doing a lot of that. He's numb, they gave him something, he's empty. He sees me as nothing, simply just a girl he killed but can help him now. 

As I cut the meat, I look up at him as he sits on the couch. I see his dark hair that I've run my hands through countless times. 

"Now, Aria, if you saw Atlantic Sinclair kill somebody. What would you do?" my dad asked me.

"I...I..."

He says angrily, "Wrong. That hesitation alone would lead you to already be dead. Now, let me ask you again. If you saw Atlantic Sinclair kill somebody, what would you do?"

"Kill him," I said. "And save whoever he killed."

"Good girl," my dad smiled. "Unlike?"

I hate this part. It always hurts the most. I say nothing, causing him to get angry. He repeats in a threatening tone, "Unlike?"

"Unlike Adeline and mom," I say. My bottom lip trembles, but I bite it. "Who I could not save."

I put the meat to cook as I stand in the kitchen alone. I think. My want to be good, it used to be so strong. I was so determined to help other people and rid myself from the Earth after all I had done. But now, I didn't feel that burning desire I once did, it's been cooled, I barely feel it now.

What happened to me? Where did I lose my values? I had so many questions about myself, questions that would never be answered, because the answers died with my dad and his research. 

"Hey, wanna make yourself useful?" I say to the shadow on my couch. He turns to look at me, his eyes so blank, I remember the way he used to look at me. 

He stands up and walks over to me as I stand on the wooden floor. I look him up and down. Wet black hair from his shower, black clothing that hugs his shoulders and biceps. He says once he reaches me, "No."

"For the best, probably," I cross my arms. "You're a terrible cook."

"If it is you who is judging I take that as a compliment," he says, and I narrow my eyes at him.

No matter what is inside him, that is making him so empty, I know there is still him. The broken child abandoned by his father after being turned into something he didn't want to me. The man I kissed on the water, the one that saw me as the sun, I know he is somewhere.