Thorns

Chapter Twenty-Two

It had been three weeks since Salem murdered his family, and Ivan had been crowned king. I would have been lying if I said I hadn't enjoyed the look on Ivan's face when he realized what had happened. I remember that night so vividly, but not for the reasons I probably should have. It hadn't been the blood splattered across Salem's face, or the dead bodies on the floor that had imprinted into my memory. Instead, it had been the moment that followed.

After I had told Salem to leave, and I was sure he was gone, a shrill, blood curdling shriek ripped from my throat,  and pierced the bubble of  calm air around me.

For a moment, even I believed that I was hurt. By

But that could have been because I was.
I would never be free of the pain I was constantly causing myself.

I remember how I had deepened my quickening breaths until my entire body began to tremble from the constant form of irregular oxygen intake. I remember thinking how odd it was that, at the very moment Salem had thrusted his knife into his mother, father, and sister, somewhere out there there was a baby laughing for the first time. I remember wondering how many beautiful moments had taken place at the same exact time as some of my worst memories had.

It didn't take long after that for Ivan to burst into the room with three or four guards trailing closely behind him. I remember how he had been too focused on me and my anguished cries to even notice what had happened, at first. But, I believed that initial obliviousness was what made his reaction that much more enjoyable.

It had been like the flick of a switch.

One moment, he was holding me tightly in his arms, with one of his hands on the small of my back and his chin resting on the top of my head, and the next he was in a sobbing heap on the cold, marble floor.

If I was being completely honest, that might have been the most human thing I had ever seen Ivan do. Quite possibly the most human thing I had ever seen anyone do.

Yet, it was a reaction I had never experienced having.

Even when my dad died, I hadn't been as nearly upset as I knew I should have been. I had felt more guilty than I had sad.

And if I really thought about it, it wasn't even "guilt" I had necessarily felt. Well it was guilt, just not in the way it should have been. It was more like I was using guilt as a way to compensate for my actions, instead of it being an instinctive response of raw remorse.

Their was nothing more thrilling than the game of death. Even Salem knew that. Every apology, every sympathetic gaze, every kind smile he flashed had all been careful calculations made on his part. He knew that killing was more fun when you could destroy the victim's soul before their body.

Creating death was a beautiful adrenaline rush, I had to admit, but destroying a soul could cause an otherworldly high that was worth more than anything I could ever imagine.

Maybe that's why I had found it so difficult to contain my smile the moment Ivan had collapsed. Even though I wasn't the person who had hurt him, I was the one who got to witness a piece of his soul die.

I was lucky for that.

I breathed in slowly, watching carefully as my bedroom door creaked open. With Ivan as King, I had been, more or less, set free. No more guards, no more curfews, no more escorts, no more being forced to do the things I resented with all of my heart.

Yet, for some reason, I had refused to go home.

I wasn't ready to leave. Not yet.

"We got another one..." Ivan sighed. I watched him gently close my bedroom door behind him, as he made his way over to me, "That's the third one today."

Yet another body to add to the pile.

Ivan flopped down next to me, and I couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes. I wondered how long it had been since he last slept.

"Was it the same as yesterday?" I mumbled, laying down next to him. I already knew the answer, even before he answered, but I wanted to ask anyways. I wanted to be wrong.

Ivan nodded. He tightened his jaw, but nothing more. His eyes remained empty, and his breathing stayed steady.

I figured he was too drained to be angry.

I would be too, if I cared enough to even be angry in the first place.

I dreaded the day Ivan found out I was the one who left Salem go.

Ivan shifted his onto his hip as he dug into the pocket of his pants, after a moment, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and shoved it into my hand. I assumed he didn't want to touch it any longer than he needed to. After all, it was stained red.

They all were stained red.

"Read it out loud." Ivan said, and I could hear the tightness in his throat as he spoke, "I need to know what it says."

Need to know, he had said, not want to know.

I nodded slowly, uncrumpling the paper with careful fingers. I was worried if my hand would shake even a little bit, I would accidentally tear it. The paper was still a little damp, in some spots, and the stench of copper stung my nose. It was so pungent, I could almost feel the smell inside of my lungs.

My heart skipped a beat as my eyes gazed down  on the familiar hand writing and black ink. Per usual, one white rose petal was stuck on the corner of the paper. Somehow, the petals always remained pristine. I wasn't sure how, but Salem always managed to keep the blood off of the petals. They were perfect every time.

"I miss you, Peachy. I miss you a ton." It was the same two sentences he wrote on every one of those god damned notes he left for me.  That's all he ever said, and I would have been lying if I said I didn't wish he would write more.

Because I missed him too...probably much more than I should have.