Euthanasia

Chapter Eight- Lie

George wouldn't stop screaming. I brought him back to the palace after he passed out, dragging him back to the carriage with the help of my spies. The ride back was chaotic, filled with loud cries and attempts at gentle hushes. When we arrived back, I placed him softly on our bed. Then, even after that, there wasn't another peaceful moment. First his screaming was of terror, shrill and almost strident. I laid down with him, hoping to urge the fear away, wanting him to get better, but things only got worse. His fear turned into something different.

Pain. He was no longer running from the nightmares. His torment wasn't trying to catch him anymore. All the misery had finally caught up to him. The grief from what he had done tore him apart inside. It cut him into pieces, mutilated him beyond mental recognition. This was killing him, his own actions finally taking their bitter, abhorrent toll. His nightmares were hurting him, his screams were leaving me in bitter carnage.

I tried hard to bring him comfort, pulling him close, letting him wrap his arms around my waist, as his fingernails dug into my skin in pain. I tried to keep my own disturbing thoughts at bay, but his constant screaming triggered something in me, something I didn't want to face yet, and probably could never deal with on my own. I hardly had flashbacks anymore. When I used to, it would rip me apart every time. I would be out of my mind for weeks, withdrawn, unstable. Those were the times I was the most dangerous.

I didn't want to go through that, not with George here. I feared what I could do to him when I was like that. It certainly never ended well for people back then. I tried to ignore it, push it down, pretending that it wouldn't happen. I didn't ever want to see the reenactment of that gruesome day but hearing George scream reminded me of the way I screamed on that day too.

I held tight to George as his screaming died down. I closed my eyes. The flashbacks couldn't be controlled. I took a deep breath. I wouldn't hurt him, right? I let the memories flood in. It was my turn to scream. Soon enough I was at that very moment I feared most. It was my birthday all over again. I hated my birthday, it was tainted with blood, but, then again, most things were when it came to me.

I knelt on the ground; cold polished tiles burned my knees as I placed my hands in front of me trying to stop the bleeding. My father's body was lying on the ground next to me, and despite my attempts to stop his bleeding, he was already dead, his glassy eyes staring at nothing, his pale skin drained of blood. The flashback always started like this. The smell of his blood suffocated me, drowning out all my senses. I tried to cover my nose with my arm, but that wasn't going to help.

I looked down at the wound between my father's ribs. The blade that was used to successfully kill him went straight into his heart. The cut was clean, blood gushed out smoothly, bubbling as the air pockets gurgled up. My mother was better with a sword than I thought. I couldn't save him, no one could, he was already long gone now. His warm sticky blood dripped down my arms, it reached past my elbows. I never remembered getting that much blood all over me.

I pushed myself up from the ground in front of my father, leaving behind two bloody handprints on the marble. The smudge I left was nothing to the mess of blood already covering everything. My heart was racing and now I was panicking. I shakily ran a hand through my hair, not realizing the trail of blood I left behind. Then it dripped down my face too. I looked like a maniac.

Quickly searched through the crowd, my hysterical eyes sweeping over confused faces. I found my mother easily, finally remembering what she looked like, for a while I had forgotten. Why did it have to take a flashback for me to recognize her again? She was watching me from her perch at the very back of the crowd. Maybe her eyes were sad, maybe filled with resentment. I didn't know, because I didn't care. When she finally realized I knew who killed the king, she pushed away from the crowd, blending in so easily that no one ever saw her again.