Entangled

Chapter 12

Liatta was happy and warm.

She was having a picnic in the middle of a flowering meadow surrounded by all the people that loved her and she loved them, and they loved each other.

Her mother, her father, Anita, Uncle Robert. They all sat together under the sunlight, trading light conversation and gentle laughter.

When Liatta had appeared in this place, they had beckoned her to them and, ignoring the vague sense in the back of her mind that she shouldn't, Liatta joined them.

Their time together only lasted a moment before the day shifted to starless night and Liatta found herself alone, staring at the gnarled wood of some sort of stage.

She craned her neck to catch sight of what was happening above her, and even though there was no light, Liatta could see perfectly.

On the stage, a man in armor and a dark hood loomed unnaturally large over a kneeling figure.

The hooded man stalked towards a wooden block roughly dragging the other person with him. As he did, his massive sword scraped against the wooden planks of the stand, sending bits of wood flying in all directions.

When he got to the wooden block, the hooded man forced the formerly kneeling person's chin onto down. Then he lifted his massive sword and crashed it over their defenseless neck.

By the time Liatta realized what she was seeing, the Executioner's, for that was what she now knew the man to be, sword had already fallen.

His victim's head rolled off the platform, painting a trail with the blood that leaked from its cleanly sliced wound as it rolled. Finally, it came to a stop at Liatta's feet.

She looked down and her eyes met the bloodshot eyes of her father.

Liatta numbly picked her father's head up from the ground, gently wiping off the dirt from his now cold cheeks and held it to her chest.

A drop fell onto the head then another and Liatta realized she was crying. The realization broke through any restraint she had and she fell to her knees sobbing.

As Liatta cried, the Executioner dragged up his next victim. Though she could hardly see any details of the new figure, Liatta immediately knew recognized her. Her mother.

Liatta continued to hold her father's head crying, as her mother was forced to her knees by the Executioner.

She didn't move, even as the Executioner's sword fell once again and severed her mother's head from her neck.

It was only when her mother's head, too, rolled to Liatta's feet, that she finally stood up. She took her mother's head into her arms with her father's, crying so hard her chest visibly heaved with every sob.

Next, the executioner brought up Anita.

Again, he forced her to her knees. Through her tears, Liatta saw Anita's pleading gaze. Begging her to do something, anything.

To help her.

But Liatta didn't move and Anita's head joined the others in her arms.

Now the Executioner had one more victim left.

But right before he could strike, Liatta woke up.

She rubbed her eyes in a vain attempt to wipe away the image of the Executioner's cold red gaze that burned itself into her mind.

Liatta turned on the couch, pulling the blanket over her head, an action which had the side benefit of hiding her unblemished skin from her view.

These days she especially hated looking at her body. The lack of scars was an ironic reminder of the pain she endured every night.