break me like a promise // tommy&will day 3
Jul 9, 2023 2:54:04 GMT -5
Post by pup on Jul 9, 2023 2:54:04 GMT -5
The parents' hands were bloodied, holding their kid with sobs racking through their chest. A nasty mutt had gotten through the fence where the kid was playing. My parents and I did what we could--not much--and the parents wept, covering their face in their hands, tears mixing with red stains.
My hands are covered in blood now. Quentin's blood. The things I looted from his corpse are smeared in the same shades of red.
I thought that when I killed I would be like those parents. Seeing death and weeping. Even if I didn't know the person as a parent knows their child, I thought I would feel enough empathy to shed a tear. Instead, my voice became locked in my throat. While Xaa and Will took their turns patching me up and setting me a new splint for my leg, all I could do was stare at the blood.
I didn't cry. A single tear didn't even threaten to escape from my eyes.
I killed him, and I didn't regret it.
The final blow was calculated. The femoral artery was a clear target. It was the part of his body unprotected by armor. It should have been harder. I should have felt some tug on my soul telling me to stop. But there was nothing in my conscious which halted my sickle's swing. The blood loss was quick, and his allies fled.
Xaa and Luna congratulated me. I was like them now. Will seemed less overjoyed. I didn't respond to any of their comments.
I sat against the gnarled roots of a tree and stared at the blood drying on my hands. In the background I could hear Will and Xaa fighting. A lovers spat, it's not a big deal. I can't tell what they say, but I know words are being thrown like Luna's spear. And suddenly it's a big deal. Will's at her stuff, packing her bag.
When she picks up her stuff and I finally realize what's happening, I force myself to look away from my hands. I push myself to my feet and hobble after her.
"Will," I croak out before she can turn to leave. I'm leaning against a tree branch acting as a makeshift cane and my thoughts are hazy. All I know is that she can't go. I bump into her, we argue from time to time, and she stands in the way of a club to protect me. She's all I have of home, and she wants to take that away from me.
If she goes it'll just be Xaa, Luna, and me. The two assassins and their trainee.
I don't beg. I've never had to. Even in the cruelest of winters and hottest of summers, I've been able to get by. But now, my cracking voice is teetering on the edge of desperation.
"Please don't go. Don't leave me with them. I-" my voice breaks. I'm not sad I killed Quentin. I'm afraid. I'm afraid at how easy I struck him down, how ready I was to stand over his corpse, how I surgically cut into his flesh to tear his life from him. I'm afraid I'm just like Xaa and Luna.
"I don't want to be like them, and I need you to be there."
Will is my last part of home. At home I'm life's ally; I heal, I mend. But all of that is slowly slipping away. I need her to remind me what home is.
My hands are covered in blood now. Quentin's blood. The things I looted from his corpse are smeared in the same shades of red.
I thought that when I killed I would be like those parents. Seeing death and weeping. Even if I didn't know the person as a parent knows their child, I thought I would feel enough empathy to shed a tear. Instead, my voice became locked in my throat. While Xaa and Will took their turns patching me up and setting me a new splint for my leg, all I could do was stare at the blood.
I didn't cry. A single tear didn't even threaten to escape from my eyes.
I killed him, and I didn't regret it.
The final blow was calculated. The femoral artery was a clear target. It was the part of his body unprotected by armor. It should have been harder. I should have felt some tug on my soul telling me to stop. But there was nothing in my conscious which halted my sickle's swing. The blood loss was quick, and his allies fled.
Xaa and Luna congratulated me. I was like them now. Will seemed less overjoyed. I didn't respond to any of their comments.
I sat against the gnarled roots of a tree and stared at the blood drying on my hands. In the background I could hear Will and Xaa fighting. A lovers spat, it's not a big deal. I can't tell what they say, but I know words are being thrown like Luna's spear. And suddenly it's a big deal. Will's at her stuff, packing her bag.
When she picks up her stuff and I finally realize what's happening, I force myself to look away from my hands. I push myself to my feet and hobble after her.
"Will," I croak out before she can turn to leave. I'm leaning against a tree branch acting as a makeshift cane and my thoughts are hazy. All I know is that she can't go. I bump into her, we argue from time to time, and she stands in the way of a club to protect me. She's all I have of home, and she wants to take that away from me.
If she goes it'll just be Xaa, Luna, and me. The two assassins and their trainee.
I don't beg. I've never had to. Even in the cruelest of winters and hottest of summers, I've been able to get by. But now, my cracking voice is teetering on the edge of desperation.
"Please don't go. Don't leave me with them. I-" my voice breaks. I'm not sad I killed Quentin. I'm afraid. I'm afraid at how easy I struck him down, how ready I was to stand over his corpse, how I surgically cut into his flesh to tear his life from him. I'm afraid I'm just like Xaa and Luna.
"I don't want to be like them, and I need you to be there."
Will is my last part of home. At home I'm life's ally; I heal, I mend. But all of that is slowly slipping away. I need her to remind me what home is.
[kaitlin]
