Fate and Destiny (The Fated Series, #2)

Chapter 16 - Fauna - It Flickers

I'm empty.

I'm already half-dead.

As if sensing my loss of life, I hear the scrape of the door opening. It's the one thing I always remember, along with whose hand it is that turns the lock.

"I've only just finished healing her," Hira pleas softly. I want to see her face, though I'm almost positive her head is bent. She turned me on my left side before he came. Now all I can see is the horribly lit wall.

"Out. All of you."

"But..."

"You won't be needed. Out."

There's shuffling. The vague sound of Hira's bag filled with glass bottles that hits her legs as she walks out. I don't know how I am able to identify the specifics of a few clicks and clanks, but I do.

The room goes quiet, the door shutting, then more footsteps – dragged, not crisp with confidence – and a dark figure slides down against the wall by my head.

"Gods Clary, I don't know how much longer I can keep this up." There's something different about his voice. It's...softer. More worn. Older. "It hurts to...to hold it...Gods it hurts."

I want to hate him. I want to reach out and break his neck, but...it's hard to hate someone who finally understands the pain. Who knows how much of a chasm it makes in you to break before they even lift a finger to do it? I want to hate him, but not even the commonsense voice is arguing.

"I know."

He looks at me, but I can't see his face in the shadows. I still feel my chest tighten when I spot his shaking hands. They've never shaken before...wait, they did. The night that he...

"You know..." I say, not feeling completely numb anymore. "There was a time when I imagined our roles switched. Me standing over you as you lay broken on the table." I'm not sure who's speaking, only that it's my mouth moving, trying not to stumble on the words I haven't used for eons. All I know is that every word is true, even if they're ones I never thought truth before.

"Do us all a favor, Will, and kill me now. You can't save someone who's already gone. I know. I've tried – more than once, and it was useless in the end. So kill me now, and save yourself the headache."

We sit in silence, my mind already made up and ready for the flash of a knife, the sting of its edge, but it doesn't come. I try finding his tell, looking at how his body is positioned to figure out where he'll likely strike. But...nothing. He's...tired, I realize. His shoulders sag, his legs in a non-attack, casual way. If anything, he looks like...well, he looks like Will. The Will I remember before everything went to shit.

"I can't kill you, Clary." He sounds broken, his voice cracking and strained. "Anyone with half a mind can see that in my eyes."

"Then close them."

"Clarry..." His voice changes and I flinch at the cold tone. He catches my quick movement and sags further until he's lying on his side beside me. I see it then. How his eyes look...brighter. I remember them dimmed and hollow, begging for death. Now, they look sparked with life, though they're dim in a different sense.

"I hate hearing you scream – you know that, right? I hate watching my hands lift the mallet and knives. Hate feeling the rattle of your bones shattering vibrate through mine. I hate it, but...it hurts to hold him off. To deny him. I need you to know that."

"I do. But Will, it's as I said. You can't break someone that's already broken. I know you already know that. Why else would you be here, trying to mend one of those broken pieces you broke long ago?" His eyes shift again, though it was between two quick blinks, barely registerable. "You should know. Nothing you could ever do – nothing you've ever done – could make me mad at you more than I already am at myself. You can't hurt me, Will. Not anymore, because I have nothing left to be hurt. I have nothing left to give or be touched by even me. Neither of us can fix me. No one in this...secret layer can. That, I can promise you. But you didn't come down here to hear me tell you what you already know, did you?"

"No." He says it barely more than a whisper I almost miss it. I don't miss how it lifts my heart a slight fraction to hear him say that though, even if it's thickly slathered in guilt and shame.

"Why are you here then, Will?"

"You don't need me to tell you what you already know."

"No," I answer, forcing the corners of my to lift ever so slightly. "Forgive me if I don't put up a fight that you're undoubtedly hoping and praying I will give."

"I forgive you. Forgive me?" He's not asking me to forgive him for what he's already done, but for what he'll do next.

Why else would he dismiss everyone out of both the rooms and the halls? So no one would hear him unlatch his belt buckle or the soft kisses he lays on my thin, pale skin. So no one will try and watch as he lays me on my back, pulls down the thin piece of clothing covering my hips, and settles himself between them. He dismissed them because he was ashamed.

"I forgive you," I whisper, watching as his glossy eyes slowly harden over, darkening into depthless pits, and my hip bones bite into the floor with a change of force.