Forgiveness and Love

Claimer: Please don't use my characters or this story. All ideas and the storyline belongs to me.

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I ran as fast as I could, and behind me, I could hear the creatures, whimpering, snarling and panting. As I scrambled up the slope to the house, I twisted back and fired my last few arrows at the pack of wolves. I heard a few yelps and howls, but remain dispirited at the fact that the size of the pack was largely unchanged. I couldn't inflict considerable damage to the pack even if I tried.

I felt tired, my limbs were protesting with every step I took and my breaths were coming in too fast. I could not hold on much longer, and the rickety old house would offer little protection. I knew I had no choice now. It was do it, or die if I failed. There was no room altogether for mistakes.

I turned, facing the wolves. My mind raced as it formed the word, and I shouted. "Defendo!" Ward off. As an amethyst-hued barrier encased the whole area between me and the wolves, I felt my already feeble strength being sapped further and fell to the ground, my legs unable to support my body any longer. To maintain a barrier was too energy-consuming, and with my failing strength, the barrier would only hold off the wolves for just that long.

I smiled grimly as the first wolf found out that hurling itself at the barrier did it no good. It howled as its fur caught fire, and causing the other wolves to avoid it and think twice before knocking on my barrier. Slowly, staggering, I managed to stand up and stumble into the house. It was all I could do to stumble into the furthest corner. My strength failed me and I sank to the floor.

I must've been a sight: sweat-soaked garments clung to my body, tangled, sodden hair hanging limp over my eyes, and I was dirty and ragged all over. I was panting like a horse that had ran for three whole days without rest. Which, in itself, wasn't untrue at all; I had been running for three days.

The roof of the old house was pockmarked with holes. I could see through the holes the sky, full of ominous greyish clouds, heavy with unshed moisture. I shuddered, partly from the cooling sweat, and partly because I knew it was going to rain soon. In my state, I'd easily catch a cold.

I hugged my legs to my chest, drawing a shaky breath as I unclasped the large but beautifully engraved locket hanging from my neck. My brother had given it to me¡­but it seemed so long ago, a summer bright and full of life. Unlike this bleak, grey winter I now lived in.

My fingers trembled as they lightly skimmed over the perfect little picture of my family. My brother had taken it upon himself to capture that perfect moment and lay it on parchment. I felt truly, wholly ashamed; I didn't deserve his love. Maybe a younger, innocent me, yes, but not this monster I had become.

I had killed my own brother. I screamed at myself, ashamed, angry, and helpless. I shouldn't have taken my hatred and frustrations all out on my brother - surely he was as innocent as any of us. The only culprit was my father. But I had gone insane and groped for the nearest thing I could grasp.

It was a vase; I still remember the blood on its cream ceramic surface, glistening crimson on stark white.

And I was so angry that I didn't register what I had done. It was only when my gentle, sweet brother lay unconscious at my feet, bleeding into the carpet that I truly realized what I had done.

My vision blurred with unshed tears, but I refused to blink them away. I feared if I close my eyes, even for a second, I would see their faces again. Ashamed. Saddened. Disappointed. Mortified. I feared to see those humiliating expressions in their eyes. I look up into the sky, seeing the grey, heavy clouds.