Secrets lie underneath the shell and the exterior which hardened after every mission, after every training session and after every loss.
Emotions still interfered and embed their way into their souls.
Because even if shadow hunters are part angels...
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Raising Hell
NIGHTMARES. At night Arya's defences, we're left susceptible and her mind was allowed to take over. It didn't leave her time to block out all of the horrible thoughts which haunted her thoughts during the day—and she loathed that. All of her thoughts and feelings which she strived to block away came flooding in like a tidal surge and she couldn't end them. Her thoughts were teased with impressions of her parents and her past—it weighed down on her like stones on her shoulders until she was awakened.
She flailed in her bed, rolling in every direction as her dreams consumed and filled her body with dread and trauma. Her sheets crumpled around her and her fists clasped on them until her knuckles turned white and her nails almost tore through them. It was like she was clutching onto a raft in the middle of the ocean so the water which was her imagination didn't drown her.
✧
"He's found us, Connor. We have to leave. Now." The youthful image of her mother materialized in her mind. She was flinging aspects into backpacks and placing them by the entrance which her father had just arrived through. "They're after us." She warned the man with tears hazing her vision.
Arya couldn't see her parents but she could hear them. She knew this wasn't a dream, it wasn't fiction but it did afflict her thoughts often. This has already happened. It was a recollection.
"Then we need to leave. Now." Her father conceded, clasping a few of the bags either on his shoulder or around his wrist. Arya's mother nodded and the two parents shared a devoted look but they didn't know that it would be one of the last they could give.
Before either had the chance to flee their tragic ends, Valentine and two of his men stormed the door down with a loud bang—blowing it off its hinges. Wood splintered across the room and the impact caused glasses to shatter and the loud thump awoke young Arya from her slumbering state. She stepped to the door sheepishly and peered around the corner.
Little did she know her mind would permanently be plagued with the image she was about to discern.
The image of a seraph blade slivering against the neck of both her parents—bringing them to their untimely ends. But forever the image had stuck and scared her—even further so when the man who did such an act, made abrupt eye contact with the young child as if she was his subsequent fatality.
✧
Arya awoke astonished. The pictures still stuck in her mind and she struggled to use the palm of her hand to rub the images from her perception. She was ice cold and chilled to the bone by what she had just recalled—even if it had been for the millionth time. She snatched her sheets further around her in an endeavour to attain some warmth. A pitiful sob escaped her lips—for some reason she felt so immoral for letting the vision back into her mind. She felt so weak and it frustrated her.
