"Still, any hell would be better than this existence of his."
____________
Chapter 15 The Light and the Dark
The fragrant scent of flowers hung in the air, and the colors of them were vibrant and bright, the field looking like a serene landscape painting that'd taken hours upon hours to complete.
The amount of effort and time it'd taken to tend to this vast garden was a demonstration of pure dedication. After all, there was no way that this field of flowers could've flourished on their own without some help, could they?
Krushem dared to walk towards the field, past the bloodied broken wooden pews and past the carefully constructed altar. His black boots left bootprints as he went and then he was standing at the edge of the field. He raised his arm, his fingers inching towards the flowers.
At last, his fingers grazed the soft petals, and he even dared to pluck said flower from the earth. He twirled it in his hand and watched as the flower suddenly lost its vibrant color. The petals wilted and dried before crumbling to dust in his palm, and he felt a sudden sense of sorrow as he watched the dust be carried away by the wind.
When he looked up, he found that the whole field had wilted in a matter of seconds, the painting falling apart before his very eyes as if the field had been hit by disease. Grey replaced the color and in the flowers' places stood nothing but long stalks of yellowed grass.
And for some reason despite his determination to remain strong all this time, he felt the sorrow consume him despite how hard he struggled to push it away. It was as if he'd been gripped by a sudden spell and he could not escape the feelings plaguing him.
"Roman," a voice startled him and he spun around, only to see a young woman standing there who looked familiar and yet unfamiliar at the same time.
Her golden hair was braided into an intricate crown upon her head and her movements were graceful as she approached him, feet bare. Her blue gaze expressed a look of wisdom beyond her years, and her lips curled upwards into a delicate smile as she set her gaze upon Krushem.
Krushem recognized this woman. He'd seen her before in this exact place and in this exact dream. He'd seen her once with Elaine picking flowers, and Elaine had called her—
"Lilith?"
Lilith's smile radiated warmth as she unexpectedly hugged Krushem and Krushem found himself hugging her back without wanting to. It was suddenly as if his movements were not his own and neither were his thoughts.
Lilith was to be his love. She was a true leader to her tribe. The Demonian witches were powerful and great. The Servetes would be great too...just as long as he managed to get this job finished. He wouldn't let his family, nor himself, down.
"The preparations look great," Lilith pointed out, looking around the area.
Krushem found the broken wooden pews were gone. Instead, the pews were sturdy and clean of any blood whatsoever as if nothing terrible had happened here. Lilith took Not-Krushem's hand and their fingers became intertwined. She was now staring upon him as if she would do anything for him, and he felt a sliver of annoyance.
How could some woman be so daft to think she could trust him? He was looking out for his family, not her. But he had to lie and lie and wait and wait. He had to be patient here or else all his planning would be foiled and his goals would not be fulfilled.
So biting his tongue, Not-Krushem squeezed Lilith's hand back before walking between the empty wooden pews, his tattered brown boots shuffling across the grass.
"The preparations are glorious," Not-Krushem remarked before his goals flashed in his mind and he hid a cruel smile from Lilith. "Just let me take care of everything."
And then it was like Krushem was himself again except suddenly his vision had blurred and then he stumbled. He tried to find his footing but it was as if he'd suddenly found himself falling into an endless void he couldn't escape from. He smelt blood and then he could taste it, but his surroundings were pitch black and he was flailing his limbs, falling faster and faster—
That's when Krushem startled awake, screams echoing in his skull before he struggled to shove the nightmare away.
But forgetting such a nightmare was easier said than done.
Krushem rubbed his eyes and sat up, finding that it looked to be late afternoon. Sunlight filtered through the treetops, but he shied away from the light and rose unsteadily to his feet.
It was the morning after Krushem had failed to kill Kei. After losing Kei in the woods, he'd went back to the bar to drink some more, furious at himself for not catching Kei. Then, he'd stumbled drunkenly back to his camp and passed out, only to have that stupid dream.
It'd been a while since one of Krushem's nightmares had shook him up that bad. But It wasn't the screams and the bloodiness of it that shook Krushem. No, it was the fact that he had been taken over by someone else—Roman, was it? Somehow, it was like In the dream Krushem had become this Roman guy for a moment. In that moment, Krushem had had no control over himself and then there was the woman, Lilith.
As far as Krushem knew, Lilith was apart of the Demonian Tribe of witches and of course knew Elaine. Plus, she was in love with this Roman guy, one of Krushem's ancestors, except Roman apparently didn't love her back.
Roman obviously had had ill intentions towards Lilith and yet Lilith was presumably unaware and loved him. For an instant, Krushem felt a strange sense of connection towards Lilith. After all, Krushem knew what it was like to love someone and have that someone not love you back.
Just the thought of the Raven made an image flash into Krushem's mind; Not the image of the raven haired boy with his signature smirk and violet eyes, but rather the image of his skeletal remains laying in a dug up grave on Necro Ridge.
Krushem couldn't get rid of that image but he wanted to rid himself of it so badly in order to not feel. So he did what he always did and started towards Kewinsky's Bar, only to halt in his tracks when he realized that his bag of gold was unmistakably empty.
Krushem realized he must've spent the remainder of his money last night at the bar after having lost sight of Kei.
Krushem felt a sense of urgency and great disparity as if not having any money was the worst thing that could possibly happen to him. And to him, it was the worst thing that could happen to him. No money meant no alcohol. Krushem couldn't buy his drinks without stupid gold, and without his drinks, his heart would betray him. He would be weak instead of strong. Emotional instead of numb.
Krushem could not have that! He would not be burdened by things he'd rather forget. He would not remember and feel. Feelings were weak. Boys didn't cry.
Luckily though, Krushem was a thief, and he certainly knew some employers who'd be willing to hire him on such short notice. Besides, Kewinsky's Bar was mostly occupied by no-gooders and thieves and such. It was a hotspot for thieve hiring.
Krushem hurried to Kewinsky's then, entering into the building with such haste that he practically slammed the door open. At the loud commotion, bar patrons turned their heads to stare at him but Krushem paid them no mind—all except one that is.
A burly man with thick eyebrows and a beard was sitting at one of the tables. Krushem recognized the man instantly. The man went by the fake name of "Big Jones" and ran a lucrative operation in which he'd specifically hire thieves to procure valuable items for him. Then, Big Jones would put these stolen items up for sale and gain a ton of money back. Krushem had worked for Big Jones once before, having stolen a magic wand for him from the Castia Mountain.
Krushem knew Big Jones would hire him in an instant. He hadn't disappointed the man last time, and he wouldn't do so again.
"Need anything else stolen?" Krushem asked straight away, sitting down across from Big Jones.
Big Jones gave Krushem a once over, eyeing his disheveled clothes and greasy hair before he chuckled and banged his hand onto the table.
"Depends how much money you're asking for. You do a well enough job and I'll give you eighty gold coins," Big Jones said. "There's a legend old King Sharpner was buried with golden armor in the crypt of Sharmaria and whoever wears said armor will be invincible in battle. If you're really looking to earn money, go fetch me his armor and bring it back to me here by nightfall."
Krushem would've taken up the job happily except for one thing; the Kingdom of Sharmaria was located just beside Altazzara. Krushem had sworn he'd never go back to his old home, let alone even go near there.
But all he had to do was break into a crypt and steal some armor. It sounded easy enough. He'd be in and out in a jiffy.
Besides, the faster he got the job done, the better. So Krushem nodded at Big Jones curtly and started outside, mounting his horse before taking off, galloping down the road.
Krushem rode nonstop, fueled by the thought of the eighty gold coins he'd receive and the thought of spending that gold on all the alcohol he could want. But the journey to Sharmaria was no easy trip because it was quite long. Even with the past pace Krushem was currently going, he'd probably only reach there in about four hours.
Still, Krushem kept on, reminding himself he needed the money desperately because he did. The wind whipped through his hair and he kicked up dust as he went, urging his horse to go as fast as it could.
Krushem lost track of how many kingdoms he traveled through as he rode on, but eventually just when his horse was on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion and couldn't go on anymore, the village of Sharmaria finally came into view.
Krushem slowed his pace for the first time and made his way into the village, passing by villagers doing everyday tasks; pushing wagons about and cleaning clothes in wooden buckets filled with water.
The royal crypts were located below the chapels of most kingdoms, and Krushem quickly identified Sharmaria's Chapel by its tall but narrow stone structure, the tiled roof adorned with the symbol of Sharmaria as well as a holy symbol etched into an orange flag.
The chapel looked deserted outside but there was light emitting from inside, indicating there must be occupants inside.
Krushem hid his horse away and located the stairs leading up to the main entryway of the chapel, but then he spotted a smaller door carved into the side of the staircase. Either that door led to a storage room beneath the stairs or it led underground into the crypt itself. Krushem assumed the latter given that this door was a barred iron door secured closed with a lock.
But when Krushem reached out to touch the door, he found that upon closer inspection, the lock was broken. He supposed wherever this door led to wasn't much of a concern to Sharmaria's people given it wasn't well guarded.
He pushed the door open and found a set of stairs before him, leading underground. Down the cracked stone stairs Krushem descended before he passed through a room that had square openings in the walls which held coffins upon coffins. The air smelt of mildew and dust, and Krushem's footsteps echoed in the room as he headed further along.
Eventually, he came across an iron gate at the very end of the room. This time, an unbroken padlock secured the gate closed, but that didn't deter Krushem. Since taking up thieving, he'd had much time to practice picking locks.
Krushem tried the smallest lock pick and then the next and then the next and as he worked, he pressed his ear close to the gate to listen for the unmistakable sound of the tumblers turning into place.
But Krushem's fingers were trembling and he had to steady himself before he finally managed to unlock the gate. He removed the padlock and let it clatter to the floor before he pulled open the gate. The bottom of the metal gate screeched against the floor as Krushem forced it open but then he slid inside and almost fell down a step before he was faced with a grand stone coffin engraved with diamonds and rubies.
Krushem discarded the coffin's inscription and dug his fingernails between the crack separating the lid from the coffin. He struggled to push the lid so it would slide off, but the lid was heavy and Krushem's muscles bulged as he shoved harder, mustering up all his strength to remove the heavy lid.
The lid slid against the coffin, emitting an earsplitting sound as it went. Then, finally, Krushem had removed the lid and the lid thudded onto the ground in a cloud of dust.
Inside the coffin was the skeletal remains of Sharmaria's long deceased king Sharper. He'd been buried with an abundance of valuables. Ruby and emerald rings decorated his skeletal fingers and the bottom of the coffin was filled with other various items ranging from necklaces to royal scepters. But covered in a layer of dust was a full set of golden armor that the King's remains no longer fit in.
Krushem reached out to remove the King's armor but when he touched the golden breastplate, he found that he was no longer staring down at the skeletal remains of a king he did not know.
Instead, Krushem was staring at the remains of a boy he'd always remember. The remains of a boy he'd gazed upon at Necro Ridge before ripping his treasured dagger from his skeletal hands.
Krushem inhaled sharply and closed his eyes before opening them, only to find that Aric's remains were gone as if it'd all been in his head.
Krushem yearned for a drink. To get this task done as fast as possible meant Krushem could get himself a drink. Another hour or two and he'd start coming down with a headache and worst.
So gritting his teeth, Krushem grabbed ahold of the golden breastplate and ripped it free from King Sharpner's skeletal remains.
The sound of breaking bones filled the air for a split second as Krsuhem grabbed ahold of all the goods he could find, stuffing the pieces of armor as well as the rings into his bag. Dust swirled in the air, and Krushem coughed as he worked, throwing his arm over his mouth to keep anymore dust from filling his throat.
Finally, when the dust had settled and King Sharpner's coffin was empty save for a pile of decrepit bones and dust, Krushem made his way back through the crypt, his boots dragging against the floor as he went.
He was just about to make his way outside when suddenly he heard the sound of voices. As he made his way up the stairs, he glimpsed a crowd of people standing just outside the door leading upstairs. He ducked down, almost tripping on the steps as he hurried to conceal himself.
He listened carefully, his heart pounding against his rib cage as he awaited to hear the door screech open and for the people to come down to discover him hiding there.
But the screech of the door didn't come, nor did the sound of footsteps come either. All that filled the quiet was the sound of their indistinct voices just outdoors and Krushem's racing heartbeat.
Still, Krushem waited, his body bent uncomfortably against the stairs as he struggled to calm himself.
Then, Krushem shifted, and as he did so, his bag ripped open. The clattering sound of falling objects emitted in the silence and Krushem scrambled to catch the falling rings as they descended down the stairs.
He lurched after them and lost control of himself, rolling the rest of the way down the stairs before he crashed to a halt upon the cold stone floor.
"Dammit!" Krushem cursed under his breath as he tried to pick himself up, but his elbow burned in pain as did his forehead with he'd hit particularly hard against a step.
Still, Krushem fought against the pain and forced himself into a sitting position. He saw the first ring lying on the floor a few inches away and he reached out to grab it, only to glimpse a shadow standing there, tall and imposing.
A slender hand snatched the ring off the floor before Krushem could grab it, and Krushem watched as a pair of calculating red eyes examined the ring.
"I didn't take you for the jewelry type, Usmere," Elaine said, removing her hood to reveal her beautiful face, her white skin a stark contrast against the darkened room. "Last I saw you, you let Kei go and gave the boy you hate Aric's dagger. And here I thought you'd have killed Japeth by now. After all, doesn't he have Aric's heart and not you? I think that would be a good enough reason to kill him, don't you?"
Krsuhem stood up and spotted the second ring on the floor. He picked it up and dropped it in his bag before Elaine could think to take it from him and went in search for the other rings, scanning the darkened ground.
He could feel Elaine's gaze upon him, drilling into him, and that was enough for him to turn his attention back upon her for a moment, scowling.
"I didn't let Kei go," he retorted. "He got away from me. You—"
Krushem found the other fallen rings and then a sudden thought flitted across his mind; A memory that was not his own. A young woman who was familiar and unfamiliar to him all at once. A field of flowers that looked just like a painting.
Krushem hadn't dwelled on his latest dream. But here and now, faced with Elaine, he found himself recalling Lilith and how she'd loved some man who didn't truly love her in return.
"Lilith—" Krushem began, but as soon as the name slipped off his tongue, Elaine's gaze flamed. Her usually calm demeanor changed in an instant, replaced by a look of rage.
The name seemed to strike a cord within Elaine, igniting her rage, and Krushem felt her gaze burning into him.
A tense silence hung between them as Elaine stood there and glared at Krushem, the weight of her gaze saying far more than words ever could.
Krushem would've said more, but the words wouldn't come as if he'd suddenly been rendered speechless. He knew that glare of Elaine's. She was angry. He'd seen her angry like this before, and yet something about this incident was different to him this time.
Krushem recalled distinctly bringing up Elaine's family's deaths right before he'd gone to steal Aric's whip from the School for Evil. Of course, she'd become angry and yet beneath that anger, he'd glimpsed sadness.
At the time, Krushem hadn't dwelled on Elaine's reaction. Frankly, he didn't care what Elaine felt, whether it be anger or sadness or what.
But something about that dream Krsuhem had and the fact that Elaine was clearly unnerved by him mentioning the name Lilith made something inside him stir that he'd tried so hard and for so long to push away.
For the first time, Krushem couldn't bring himself to look Elaine in the eye, the witch who'd taken everything from him. He just avoided eye contact all together, instead choosing to fixate his gaze upon his hands.
His fingers were curled inwards. On their own accord, his fingernails bit into his palm, drawing blood.
At last, the silence was broken, the sound echoing in the darkened crypt.
"Lilith is not the problem here. You're afraid that I'm right. You're afraid you've become everything which you never wanted to be," Elaine pointed out, tone oddly soft. Her words almost echoed the words Armeq had spoken to Krushem when they'd gone to Aric's grave.
"I'm not afraid," Krushem retorted, struggling to find the old fire that always seemed to rage inside him. He needed that fire.
"It's alright to admit you are. Besides, if I'm wrong and you're right, then go ahead and do what needs to be done. See where that gets you. What's a little more blood on your hands gonna do?"
Finally, Krushem found the strength to look at Elaine, to look into her burning gaze, and his heart clenched. There was that knowing gleam in Elaine's eyes that Krushem hated.
"But if I kill Japeth, Aric will not come back. The raven won't return—" Krushem began.
"Oh so suddenly now you have a conscious?" Elaine questioned, tone biting.
Krushem turned away, avoiding the question altogether. But Elaine wouldn't budge. She was still there for no particular reason but to taunt him. Why wouldn't she just leave him the hell alone?
But still, Krushem was frustrated. He needed answers. He needed something—anything! It was either he get answers or he allow his constant nightmares to drive him mad!
So Krushem spun back around, finding the strength to look at Elaine once more. She was just a girl and nothing more. He wouldn't allow her to goad him like this.
"Who's Lilith, huh?" Krushem questioned, staring at Elaine expectantly as if he actually believed she would finally answer one of his questions straight up.
Elaine's gaze lingered on Krushem, and feeling the weight of her gaze only made Krushem angrier. He was sick and tired of this back and forth between him and Elaine. If she was trying to drive him mad, she was definitely starting to succeed.
Krushem had no damn clue what any of his dreams meant, but one thing he did know was that Elaine and Lilith had known each other and that they'd had some sort of relationship whether that be familial or romantic. Maybe he'd be able to piece together more clues if he still had his family journal, but he'd lost it after leaving the School for Boys. All he had was a damn witch who wouldn't tell him anything straight up and puzzling dreams that only gave him more questions than answers.
"Just tell me!" Krushem lashed out, losing his patience as Elaine just stared, quiet.
Then, just when the silence lingered on a second too long, Elaine blinked, and Krushem swore he glimpsed a hint of sorrow in her ruby gaze.
"Lilith does not matter here. We were discussing you and your inability to do what you want to do. You want Japeth dead. You've been pushed to do things you were afraid of before, so what is it that's holding you back now?"
Krushem went quiet. He recalled once stalking Japeth the very first night they'd met. He'd followed Japeth, sword in hand, only to be spotted by a Camelot guard who'd chased him off. In that moment, Krushem had been blinded by rage and jealousy.
He'd even spend hours upon hours at the bar, telling himself over and over again that Japeth deserved to die because he was in the way of Krushem's wants. Japeth wanted Aric and yet so did Krushem. There couldn't be a way for them to have Aric both. It wasn't possible.
The simple fact of it had to be that Japeth wasn't dead because if he died now, Aric would not return. But Elaine's questions implied that there had to be some other reason as to why Krushem hadn't killed Japeth.
But the problem was was that Krushem didn't know what that other reason was. Or perhaps he knew deep down but was too afraid to face it, just as Elaine knew who Lilith was but was too afraid to tell him anything.
Perhaps, Elaine and him were more alike than he cared to admit.
As if Elaine could sense what he was thinking, she stepped towards him but stopped short. The space between them felt greater than it was. Krushem searched Elaine's face, struggling to find that flicker of sorrow he'd seen before, but Elaine's face was stoic, a perfect mask of impassiveness.
"When the both of us believe the other to be the true monster, there's no doubt we shan't believe in anything that would disrupt that notion," Elaine said, tone as cold as ice "I'm a monster. You're a monster. Nothing will change that idea and thus we will always remain as rivals. Thinking otherwise would be foolish. Are you a fool, Servetes?"
Krushem's fists tightened, his hands shaking. He said nothing, still searching for some sign that what'd he'd seen was true. Still searching every inch of Elaine's face to glimpse a crack in her defenses. But her mask didn't slip, and Krushem knew he probably wasn't gonna be the one to make her take it off.
So that was that. That was all there was to it.
The both of them wouldn't get the answers they wanted. They were both too stubborn for that.
With those last words, Krushem secured his bag of stolen valuables and headed up the stairs, leaving Elaine alone in the crypt still holding onto that damn ruby ring.
~~•~~ ~~•~~
"Eighty gold coins, just as promised," Big Jones huffed, sliding a sack of gold across the tabletop towards Krushem.
Krushem checked the sack to find that there indeed lied a massive pile of gold coins, and he grabbed a handful of them before opening his fist and letting the coins clank back into the pile. He looked back at Big Jones and gave him a curt nod.
"Pleasure doing business with ya," Big Jones said before he stood from the table and took his leave with his stolen goods in hand. Krushem heard the door to the bar open and close as Big Jones left and then he was alone aside from a few other bar patrons and the bartender behind the bar.
Krushem tore straight for the bar and slammed eighteen gold pieces onto the bar top. "Six bottles of beer," he demanded and watched in anticipation as the bartender took his money.
It seemed to take forever for the bartender to return, arms full of beer bottles. He set them each down in front of Krushem and said, "Careful, boy. Don't drink those all at once. You're sure to mess yourself up that way."
But Krushem paid the bartender's warning no heed and unscrewed the first bottle. He drank the first bottle down, savoring the taste and waiting for himself to feel the high he longed for. When the second bottle was down, Krushem found himself drinking the third bottle down as well.
The chattering of the bar patrons seems to dull to an inconceivable murmur and Krushem soon could no longer keep his balance on the barstool. He kept swaying, threatening to fall over at any given moment.
But despite the dulled murmur of the bar patrons' voices, there was one voice that he couldn't drown out. In his burry vision, he swear he glimpsed the bartender morph into the image of Elaine, her red eyes as fiery as ever.
"I'm a monster. You're a monster. Nothing will change that idea and thus we will always remain as rivals. Thinking otherwise would be foolish. Are you a fool, Servetes?" She lashed out at him, having a slender finger into his chest.
That was enough of a maneuver to cause Krushem to sway backwards and he crashed out of the stool onto the floor. It took him great effort to pick himself back up, and when he stood, supporting himself against the bar top, he found Elaine was gone as if she'd never been there in the first place.
Krushem bent his forehead against the bar top, struggling to clear his muddled mind but then he swore he felt a hand touch the back of his neck. He picked his head up and for the first time in so long, his heart jumped in joy.
Standing before him was a boy, his black hair impeccably spiked and his violet gaze dancing with mirth. And that smirk—oh, how Krushem had longed to see that smirk again!
"A—Ar—Aric!" Krushem breathed. He couldn't believe his eyes. In his urgency, he reached out to touch Aric, but Aric evaded his touch.
"Look at what you've become," Aric said, his voice sounding just as Krushem remembered it. Aric's hand slid off the back of his neck and the absence of his cold touch left Krushem feeling empty inside.
"I—I'm ever—everything you—you wanted me t—to be," Krushem replied, stumbling over his words. His speech was slurred but Aric seemed to understand him perfectly, for the raven haired boy reached out and grabbed Krushem's chin, tilting his head up.
Krushem met Aric's violet gaze and waited for his insides to fill with warmth. He waited to feel wanted, to feel appreciated.
But those feelings didn't come.
"An alcoholic?" Aric scoffed, shaking his head disapprovingly. "A thief? A nobody?"
Disappointment filled Krushem and he opened his mouth to protest, to tell Aric everything he'd done for him. But Aric's voice was cold and his laugh was sharp and mocking; "You know nothing of me, Krushem. You think you can become me and I'll just suddenly love you like that?
Krushem felt an undeniable sense of panic sink into his bones. No. He needed to let Aric know how much he meant to him. He needed Aric to know that Japeth could never love him like he could. He had to. Or else Aric may as just well be better off staying dead.
Elaine was right. There was another reason as to why Krushem hadn't brought himself to kill Japeth; It was because Krushem had hope deep down that Aric would choose him over Japeth. He had hope that Aric would see how much Krushem needed him and be with him instead of Japeth.
But to admit all that was would be weak. It'd mean Krushem would be beating his soul to Elaine, and emotions were weak.
"Bu—but y—you have to," Krushem cried out, struggling to get through to Aric.
Aric's grip on Krushem's chin tightened and Krushem felt his fingernails digging into his skin. The smirk never left Aric's face and Krushem finally saw within Aric's violet gaze the truth of it all.
Aric would've never seen him for who he was. He would've never accepted him as he was.
Instead of feeling admiration and joy, Krushem felt a sinking sense of undeniable fear as he gazed into Aric's eyes, seeing his own reflection staring back at him in Aric's violet gaze. Krushem was trembling, struggling to keep steady against the bar top.
But Krushem was too shaken to steady himself. He reached out his hand to grab Aric but suddenly the raven haired boy had disappeared before his very eyes.
"Why don't you go up to one of the rooms? Stay there for the night, young man," an unfamiliar voice sounded in Krushem's ear. "Come on now. Stop making a scene here."
Krushem struggled to focus his bleary gaze upon the owner of the voice, but his vision wasn't working properly. All he could process was someone helping him put the remainder of his beer bottles into his bag before he was guided upstairs, tripping as he went. Then, the stranger let him into a room and left him there, closing the door behind him.
Krushem found himself in the darkness of a room and no longer able to stand, he slumped onto the floor, back pressed against the wall.
Part of Krushem longed for Aric to come back to him but another part of him refused to face the raven haired boy again.
Conflicted, Krushem procured a beer bottle from his bag and opened it before drinking it down. He believed that the more he drank, the less hazy his mind would become. It was all he could do to keep his feelings from betraying him, after all.
But soon that bottle was emptied.
The empty beer bottle slipped from Krushem's hand and rolled across the floor before coming to an abrupt stop against the wall on the opposite end of the room. Krushem reached beside him in search of another bottle, but he found nothing.
He screwed his eyes closed, and he felt his arm rise up over his head. His fingers curled inwards before he struck his fist down as if to punch an invisible opponent. But in the darkness of his mind, he glimpsed the damage he'd inflicted; two severed fingers replacing the empty beer bottle that rested on the floor across from him.
Leroy deserved it. Everybody Aric had tortured had deserved it. That's what Krushem told himself over and over again because saying otherwise would mean becoming hurt, and emotions were weak. Aric Couldn't afford weakness and neither would Krushem.
But the tighter Krushem closed his eyes, the more violent his tremors became. His fists were shaking, fingers Curled into his palms and fingernails digging into his skin, hard enough to draw blood. Leroy's fingers morphed into the bloodied bodies of those he'd lost, of his family who he'd brutually mutiliated the faces of without a care.
Krushem's eyes shot open and he stared down at his trembling hands. He Struggled to uncurl his fingens but the tension in his hands was difficult to ease.
All this time, Krushem had dranken himself into a stupor. It'd worked for him for a while, but that was before he'd met Japeth and before he'd learned that there was a way to bring Aric back from the dead.
So what was it about Japeth being that much closer to bringing Aric back that brought out all of Krushen's fears?
Perhaps he was afraid of Aric returning and reuniting with Japeth. If he did, Aric would have no room for Krushem. Aric would most certainly choose Japeth who'd brought him bach to life over Krushem who'd tortured for him, who'd gotten rid of his morals just for him.
No matter how much Krushem drank, he couldn't escape that fact. It was the very notion that somshow...Krushem would Still be alone, pining after a boy who never wanted him in the first place. The Raven Would return except that the raven wouldn't need him anymore.
Thus far, isolation had become Krushem's desired company. He'd had no need for human companionship. After all, it wasn't as if any person would Want to be in Krushem's presence anyhow—Not after everything he'd done. Ho doubted even his own family would want to be around him if they were still here. They'd be disappointed in what he'd become. Maybe they'd even resent him as much as he resented himself but who knew?
Krushem's only welcoming thought was that Aric at least wouldn't resent him for all he'd done, because Aric would see into Krushem's soul and see both the light and dark parts of it, just as Krushem had seen Aric in his entirety.
But Still, Aric might see Krushem at last, but he'd still choose Japath and Krushem couldn't possibly compete with Someone like him. Either way, Krushem would be as alone as he was now, maybe even more so.
All Krushem wanted was another drink and he stumbled to his feet. His body swayed and his movements were sluggish as if he was a baby who'd just learned to walk. He slid against the wall, using it as a support as he maneuvered along. There was a clang as his boot hit against his bag and he bent over and swiped his hand out to pick it up.
He couldn't wart another second and in his urgency, he Snatched one bottle out of the bag and popped the lid. He opened his mouth and tipped his head back as he chugged the beer down. The bitter liquid dripped down his Chin and onto his Shirt. The pungent, earthy smell of it was all he could smell. It was all he could taste and he only wanted more. It was a longing he couldn't satiate as he snatched yet another bottle out of his bag and set about drinking all its contents as well.
But he was unable to finish this bottle, for his throat Slowly felt like it was being strangled and he could hear his heart racing, threatening to burst from his chest. He wiped the Sweat off his forehead with a trembling hand.
This was not the usual numbness Krushem had grown accustomed to. This was a different feeling entirely.
The walls were closing in around Krushem and the floor seemed to sway beneath him before he stumbled and fell to his knees hard.
Everything seemed to be moving so very slowly and yet there was no way time had just suddenly Stopped. Somehow, Krushem found himself curled up on the floor, legs tucked into his chest. He was panting, unable to catch his breath, nor Calm his racing heart. Sweat beaded down his forehead and his hair was dripping with it.
How much time had passed since he'd been on the floor?
Where even was he? Who was he?
His thoughts were racing and his gaze bounced to and fro around the room. There was glass scattered a few feet away. Somehow, it was an all too familiar Sight to him and his heart seemed to tense.
What was it about broken glass that made his heart ache so?
Something implored him forward and he crawled across the floor. He rolled onto his back and outstretched his hands. His fingers curled around a shard of glass, and he raised it in front of his face as if to examine it. But the longer he stared at the shard of glass, the more it seemed to change, transforming before his very eyes. No longer was it a Shard of glass but a Knife, the handle bound in leather and the blade rusted over with blood.
He recognized this dagger. He'd given it to Japeth though, as if Japeth deserved to have it anyhow. So how was Krushem holding Aric's dagger now?
Krushem gripped the dagger tight as if to keep himself from shaking but as he did so, his blood dripped from his palm. His gaze tracked the blood as it marked a path down the length of his arm.
He traced the dagger over the path the blood had made before he glimpsed the scar etched into his wrist, a scar he'd inflicted on himself once upon a time when he'd lost everyone he loved. Perhaps. opening up that very scar would serve to remind him of all his pain. It'd bring him back to all he'd lost.
As If anyone would care. He'd be gone. He'd cease to exist and then everything he deserved would be granted to him. His suffering would be everlasting and maybe his family wouldn't hate him as much he thought they would. Still, any hell would be better than this existence of his.
He applied pressure, sinking the blade into his wrist with urgent persistence, deeper and deeper until the pain subsided. The blood gushed from his wrist but he didn't move to staunch the blood flow. Instead, he turned to his other wrist and sunk the blade into this one too. It was all he could do before he felt his Vision cloud over and he dropped the bloodied knife to the floor.
Then, everything went black.
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Sorry for the wait you guys! It was difficult to write this chapter cause there was so much to it. 😅
Anyway, what'd you guys think? 🤔
Was it worth the wait? 😁
Comment and vote please!
Thanks for reading!
—Alexis Peters ❤️