Ready or Not

~ Part Two ~

My eyes stung so badly but through the blur of the hot tears that had been streaming down my face for the past half hour or so, I managed to see the effects of my blind rage. The small room I had been waiting in for what seemed like forever had been completely destroyed, and the order I had been so obsessed with had been thrown out the window... literally. Broken glass and torn pages littered the beige carpet of the floor, and every piece of furniture had been reduced to splinters almost. The Goddess is real* I joked to myself before noticing the man was still standing in the doorway, and from my curled-up position in the opposite corner I could see no change in his expression. He remained completely unaffected by my reaction to his words and was looking at me expectantly. 
   "What do you want?" I screamed at him as best I could, even though my throat hurt badly from sobbing and shouting, and my voice cracked at the end making me seem less threatening than I intended.
   "Well if you would kindly follow me, I will take you to her."
   "Why would you do that? She won't want to see me." As much as I loved her, I also despised her just as much. 
   "She does indeed. That's why I'm here. She sent specifically for you... although I'm not sure why. She knows it's her time and she requested to see you. She says it's important, and I'm sure you don't want to keep her waiting." Suddenly I was beginning to despise this man more than my mother, which was something I never thought possible, but biting back a flurry of curses and even more rage, I slowly and reluctantly stood up, my hands stinging from the small cuts that had been created by the wood and the glass, and walked to the door. He gestured for me to follow him through the stark white hallway of the hospital, thick with that sterile smell, with doors neatly spaced that lead into the countless other wards. I was interested in none of them, except the one he stopped at. I stopped too, waiting for him to open the door and lead me inside. He did.

My mother was the only one in the ward, with three other hospital beds left vacant within. I slowly crept to her bedside, hoping for her to be sleeping, but her eyes opened as soon as I was standing next to her, as if she sensed my presence there. She turned to face me fully, her expression unreadable yet clearly pained. It was evident in her voice.
   "Ah, I never thought you'd come." Her voice was faint and raspy, almost like a barely audible whisper. I hated seeing her like this. It stirred something in my heart I'd learned to call sympathy. I could've sworn she could see the concern painted on my face, yet she continued anyway. "And yet here you are, not a moment too soon. You know that I'm dying... but tell me, please... did you dream of me?" I was so shocked that I could hardly even croak out an answer, so instead I nodded cautiously. How did she know? A hint of a smile seemed to play on her frail face, devoid of colour and of life. "I thought as much." Then her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "You killed me, didn't you?" Again, shocked filled me as she spoke. How could she possibly guess that? She didn't even need me to respond - my dumbfounded expression was enough to tell her she was right as usual. "I guessed that much. The Mark usually goes unnoticed, but those who create them see them." I was beginning to become confused. A mark? What mark? What could she possibly mean? I was jolted from my thoughts, however, by the heart monitor. It was showing signs that my mother wasn't going to make it. She was going to fade at any second, and I was helpless to stop it. The only thing I could do was hold back a fresh flood of tears that stung my eyes threateningly, ready to pour out at any given moment. "I wish I could explain, but I've run out of time. I know, though, that you're going to do great things. You're going to be just like me." My eyes widened in absolute terror at her words. 
"Just like me." 
I felt sick in the stomach as the nightmarish dream replayed in my mind. I couldn't believe I'd even dream of doing such a thing. And all that blood... and that smile... I suddenly saw it on her face before me, real this time.
   BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. Her heart had stopped. I stared at my mother before me, limp and lifeless, the nightmare still playing out in my mind. I studied the position she was in and made the connection. Her body was in the exact same position it was when she fell. When I'd killed her - lying on her back, one arm draped across her stomach and the other one, furthest away from me, by her side. It was the exact same. The torrent of hot tears stopped their threats and spilled down my face, my eyes stinging and blurring so as I could barely see her, or anything, anymore. But through the tears I could see something on the back of her hand - a red mark, the colour of blood. It was strange. I'd never seen it before in my life, and yet it seemed so familiar. I reached out to grab her hand. It was cold, like ice, yet that mark felt warm against my skin. Is that the mark she was talking about? I puzzled over it for a while before noticing something she was clutching still. I removed it from her hand; it came out easily. The sickening feeling in my stomach returned as I spun the black object one, two, three times in my hand, still unopened. It fit perfectly, and I didn't have to open it to know what it was. Suddenly I remembered where I'd seen that mark before. That symbol. I remembered it... 
... from my dream.

----------------------- ~ o ~ -----------------------

I finished writing and put the pen down, satisfied with the recount of my past. I proceeded to close the small leather-bound book, and I placed it on the shelf above my desk, next to a small wooden box. Once the book was tucked away safely, my hand instinctively grasped the box and brought it toward myself. I caught myself smiling as I opened the lid a fraction before removing it entirely. My smile grew.
   "Hello again, old friend," I said, awe and admiration filling my eyes as I took the black object from the box. It fit in my hand perfectly, just like it used to. "It's time to start dreaming again." I flicked the object open, exposing the shining blade, the symbol still engraved in it, and it still in it's perfect condition. I knew that despite everything, it was time to finally finish what I'd started. "Oh and don't worry, my friend," I said to it, engulfed in pure insanity, "this time it's personal."

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*It's an inside joke, so if you know me it makes sense and if you don't then it won't, and I'm not explaining it either... probably.