Beautiful Castles

blades and axes

Harlow's pov

I've spent twenty-two years of my life wondering what my life would be like if I was born in a different world. Sometimes I like to think that I would be in college struggling to pass my classes and other times I like to think I could be out partying until my legs give out and my makeup is ruined from sweating.

But as a blade passes, my face is in a desperate attempt to fight, and my arm goes up to block while my other sends vibrations through the stranger's jaw as he stumbles to the ground. I'm snapped back to what my reality is as the sounds of music echoes throughout the room no one can hear the sounds of his cries but me his eyes staring into mine with fear while mine's probably look like I'm dead inside which to be frank isn't far off from the truth since there's no an ounce of sympathy that flows in my body. I am no longer allowed to feel sad.

Especially for people who don't deserve it.

Moments like this used to tear me apart but after you've done the things, I've done you can't find it in you to care if you know you'll move on to the next person and do the same. Yes, I know it sounds so horrific, but it's not me on the other side of the blade, so why should I care? Especially when the emotion you did have toward this job has brought you nothing but great deals of pain. As the blade slowly slides into his neck and his blood smears my shirt, I watch the light in those ocean-blue eyes dim before going out completely and the grip on my arm loosen before hitting the ground with nothing but a thud. I slowly pull the knife out, wiping it on his jacket before taking a stand as I walk out of the club unseen.

***********************************************************************************************My legs are weightless as they dangle over the ledge as my eyes stare out into the unknown while my drink rests in my hands. I've always admired the sun for the way it shines, gleaming down on me slowly, greeting the world. I gently close my eyes and let the bits of freedom slip through me at times like these are the ones I forward to the most. Where the world is silent, and my mind is blank, not having to see the liter of dull eyes and limp bodies.

Where It's only me.

But like all beautiful things. They never last.

Darkness covers the kingdom as the clouds surround it with nothing but the sounds of thunder clapping against the windows and the chatter that give the place. Photos of past leaders take over the walls as well as old painting that I often find myself staring at my fingers graze the edges as the moons shines dimly on the river while ripples crash against the rocks as the vines on the tree grow attaching itself to the abandoned house my eyes drift to the boy as his head tilts upward and chocolate eyes become filled with tears.

Crashes of thunder cause the branches to hit the windows with so much force I'm surprised they didn't break. As the patterns of the storm grow more violent by the minute the hums of footsteps become increasingly loud, I shake away the feelings that cloud my head like the fog that covers the sky. I continue to make my way upstairs, turning the corners before reaching his office, tucked all the way in the back.

"You're late," he says without looking up from his work. "You do know why I called you here, don't you?" he asks.

I roll my eyes at him and lean further into the seat. For as long as I've known this man, he's never failed to ask stupid questions, and last time I checked, if your average person asks a stupid question, they win a stupid ass prize.

"Are you going to tell me that I'm getting a magical pony?" I ask my eyes big and bright, but my voice is dipped in nothing but sarcasm.

I watch as his mouth twitches as if he's trying to hide a smile but instead shakes his head while a sigh is released from his lips. "Why is it that every time we meet, you've done nothing but insist on being a smart-ass?" He says, running a hand through his balding hair.

"Why is it that every time we meet, you insist on asking dumb questions? If I knew why you called me, what makes you think I would be sitting in this room?" I say, my voice reverting back to normal, and my lips pressed into a thin line. "Why did you call me?"

His expression that was once calm along with the ocean of his eyes has now turned into a storm waiting for its next victim. I straighten up in my chair as I wipe my hands on my pants to stop them from sweating. I wouldn't say that Lukat scared me, but he never failed to make me nervous. After years of him being nothing but a mentor, not to mention a father figure, you would think that my anxiety would tone down a notch. Somehow, though it only got worse over the years, maybe it's because I know first-hand how dangerous he is.

"As you know I've been in the industry for a long time and I've made some enemies over time last week an attempt was made on me" He says staring up at the ceiling before continuing "I didn't think much of it due to the fact that my life is always at risk but last night they broke in my home even though they were taken down their body was laying right next to my Gracie's room"

"Is she okay?" I ask, shooting up from my seat.

"Sit back down. I assure you she's fine, but this is exactly why I called you here," he says. I raise my eyebrows, not understanding what he's getting at until he speaks again.

"I want you to watch over her."

***********************************************************************************************

I lay in bed, my eyes scanning my surroundings as the light dims from the wax dripping off the candle and the rustle of the dark sheets that press against my body. I can't help but wonder why he would choose me. Deep down, I know it's cause I'm like family, and who better to trust? But deep down in my gut, something tells me that in the end, this mission won't end well.