I Am Who? - Book 2

Chapter 23 - Listlessness

There were no figures. Everything was blurred but for David's brutalized body. I was dimly aware of an enormous dark figure charging into the camp, but my fingers had closed around the javelin that had ended it all, and I couldn't seem to look away from the blood flowing down David's throat. He wasn't dead, right?

I heard Bohai reappear, the firewood he had collected falling from his arms in shock. A roar escaped his lips, and the sound of struggling followed, but I tuned it all out. I felt for David's pulse, his blood staining my skin, but there was nothing. He was gone, and the last moment I'd spent with him had been fraught with my annoyance. A wail escaped my lips, and I tried to rouse him from his eternal sleep.

A scream of pain filled the air, and I turned my head just enough to see the dark figure pin Bohai's struggling form against another tree, his leg bent cruelly in an unnatural angle. I pressed closer to David as if to protect him as the dark figure turned menacingly toward me, and then another voice so familiar I could have recognized it even if the world was ending carried on the wind, and he was there. But it was too late. Far too late.

The image replayed in my head until I could see nothing else. The world around me was empty of color, of life. I was empty and cold. I had cried every tear I possessed and then some, but still, I felt no relief from the piercing grief that tore through me.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the rivulets of blood on that familiar body until I was too afraid to sleep or do anything but stare listlessly at my surroundings. Just like that, without warning, a life had been snuffed out of existence, and it was all my fault. I never should have allowed him to convince me to leave.

I knew nothing of the passing of time. Everything was a blur after the horrible sight I'd seen. The only person I'd known I could rely upon without necessity of constant guilt was dead, and in light of that, nothing seemed to matter. I really had nothing and no one now.

The people of the Ninth had been nothing but gracious with me, caring for my physical needs as dutifully as a parent, but nothing could ease my pain. After a few days of noticing my lack of interest in the food they brought, the maids had tried to find something that would suit my tastes, and to appease them, I would eat a few bites until they'd left the room. The rest of the food found its home out the back door of my room.

There was a terrace outside my room which overlooked a garden full of exotic flowers that somehow managed to blossom despite the chilly Krimoan nights. Sitting on the edge of the porch, I wished I could be like them, uncaring for the troubles of the world. If I were a flower or a bush, would I feel the way I did now? Would I be bothered by the cruel behavior of men?

Quiet footsteps met my ears, but I didn't look up. It was one of the maids with the usual tray of food, but I couldn't find it within myself to put up the pretenses any longer. I wanted to leave this world with all of its troubles and heartache.

There was no sound of retreating footsteps, and after a moment, I turned to see what was keeping her, but instead of the round, pretty face of the maid, my eyes locked with a pair of dark orbs looking back at me. Faint memories of a berserk figure bearing down the mountainside flashed into my mind, and I shuddered, turning my gaze back to the garden and the brightly painted sunset sky.

Kotaro said nothing but quietly sat down beside me, his own gaze directed toward the golden light. I owed him my life. Again. This time, however, I wasn't sure I was grateful for his salvation. It would have been better for me to die that day, so I wouldn't have to feel this terrible pain any longer.

A long moment of silence passed between us, and a lump formed in my throat. I didn't understand why he was here, and I desperately hated the feeling of longing that was rising within me because of his presence. For the first time since that terrible day, I felt light break through the darkness of my soul, and it was as if a hand reached out to drag me back into reality. A part of me desperately wanted to reach out and take it, to escape this horrible prison of my mind, but at the same time, I wasn't sure I wanted to accept the assistance it offered.