{contristatus – a feeling of discouragement or sadness after losing faith in someone or something.}
y/n's pov:
Blood was apparent in the vomit that filled the sink, fumigating the air with its sour smell, making my eyes sore and itch.
I had stood in the bathroom for about thirty minutes, retching and heaving into the bowl of porcelain.
Clearing bodies never bothered me before – I'm not sure why it got to me so much this time. Perhaps it was because of the amount of children who I had to help clear, as if they weren't just innocent bystanders to tactical war crime.
The amount of blood was incredibly substantial; no mercy was shown, no hesitation when it came to slicing a child's throat with a hunting knife designed for large deers and other prey. They had no empathy, showed no remorse for the lives they had stolen and never given back.
They were thief's, the lot of them – and the worst kind, too.
Steal a loaf of bread? Sure. Maybe you need to feed your family, or it's the only food you can get in order to survive. I would turn a blind eye instantly.
But slashing a nine year olds throat was evil – even I knew that.
Clearing my throat of the rest of the bile that had crept it's way up my oesophagus was definitely the most painful part, but once I washed down the vomit and freshened up my clothes, I turned for the door.
Upon opening it, I almost walked right into a very flustered Frypan.
"Y/n! I thought it was you in there. Are you okay? Vince is desperate to speak to you."
He seemed out of breath and tired; his eyes anxious and desperate. I shut the door behind me. "I'm fine. What does Vince want?"
The boy tried to catch his breath, using the wall next to him for support. "I think he's finally ready – as in it's almost definitely go time." Fry explained, clutching at his chest.
I stepped closer to him. "Wait, so, he's on board? I didn't think he liked my idea?" I replied, confused.
He had his hands on his knees, dipping his head. "Yes, he's on board. He was only being a dick earlier because I just think he's grumpy, which if you ask me is because he refuses to sleep properly, and we've all tried to tell him-"
"Fry, shut up. I don't need all these other details, where is he?" I said to the boy, snapping him out of his rant.
He seemed to have caught his breath now. "Right, he's in the council room. As are the others."
I nodded, already taking steps towards the exit. The boy stopped me. "Oh, and y/n?"
I halted, turning back to him. "Yes?"
He smiled at me. "Good luck."
Fry didn't give me enough time to ask what he meant by that. He left almost immediately, leaving me to follow blindly behind him, confused and a little concerned.
I rushed out after him, headed for the council room like he said. Upon entering, I realised that when Frypan said 'others', he didn't mean just the hunting gang.
He literally meant everyone.
I don't think I've seen so many people in this room before. But here we are.
Lincoln noticed me enter immediately. "Y/n! Over here!"
The boy looked exhausted, but to be fair, he usually does. I headed over to him, weaving in and out of the herds of people who stood between us.
