Dead King's Sword (Old Draft)

6. The Way You Hurt Her

Erin

***

I watched my reflection in the oval mirror; my fingers slipped through my hair, manipulating the strands to collect them into a ponytail. The elastic snapped into place. I took a deep breath, then moved the scissors over to tresses that resembled a still shot of a waterfall. My heart made tiny jumps in anticipation as the metal legs clamped together. The long bundle of blonde locks fell, leaving only a trunk of hair behind. I released the elastic and turned on the faucet. I gathered a handful of water to wet and style my hair, added some leave-in conditioner, then voila! The short strands curled into commas and fell over my forehead. I looked almost as tomboyish as Zeren. I smiled.

I didn't look like myself, but this was the first step to freedom. Today I left the old Erin behind. I cleaned up the hair, went into my room and rescued a black velvet cloak from the closet. After putting it on, I tied the cord around my waist and prepped myself for departure.

I packed everything I needed for my trip, lifted my duffel bag and airboard off the ground and went over to the window to remove the mesh before climbing out. The sky was dark blue, carrying a splattering of stars. It seemed endless, like all the possibilities of my future. I swung myself outside and hung from the second-floor window ledge before letting myself fall a short distance to the ground. My shoes touched the grass and crunched the light layer of frost that had covered everything.

I barely detected the cold. It wasn't like the heat—it didn't brush me with its hot fingers, begging me to notice it. To feel it. The cold was comfortable. I stood there for a moment, enjoying the quiet night instead of escaping. I adjusted the strap of the duffel bag on my shoulder and dropped my airboard.

I stepped on the thin metal device and injected mana into the small circles near my heels. Blue circles glowed around my feet as the board slowly lifted off the ground. Once infused with magic, the device responded to my slightest whim, and I darted forward, a hunched figure racing toward the dark trees surrounding my home. I remembered racing Zeren during flyball practice. Speed always depended on how daring you were. There were no guardrails—nothing to catch us if we fell. But, fueled by our mutual hatred, fear had been the last thing on our minds, and our speed had been both a blessing and a curse to our team.

***

I read somewhere once that love was rot. It was the beginning of something decaying in you; it came between you and your priorities. It changed you. It made you want someone so badly that you grew blind, oblivious to all their faults. It made you forget who you were and what you were meant to be. You obsessed over the excitement that seized you whenever you were with them. You became incapable of thinking about anything else.

***

Zeren's house was a flat wooden bungalow sandwiched between two towers. The wide porch facing the road was empty. Written on the driveway in red paint was, 'Here lies the cursed family of Sethrow. Beware all who live near!'

Frowning, I carried my airboard under my left arm. Zeren's house wasn't even a tenth the size of mine, yet they had managed to fit so many people inside. Dust covered the windows; one of the glass panes had been broken by a brick or a rock, but Zeren's family had covered it with a piece of cardboard instead of fixing it with magic. With their small cores, they weren't capable of such a simple repair. The thought saddened me.

I went up the steps and knocked on the front door.

It was opened by Zeren's sister, Samantha. She was plump and beautiful, with wide hips and large thighs. She wore a tight black shirt that showed off her large breasts and black shorts; her black hair draped her shoulders. She cleared her throat. "My eyes are up here."

"I wasn't—the...." A blush warmed my face and fought its way to my ears.

Samantha chuckled. "I'm toying with you. So...." She nonchalantly played with the ends of her curly tresses. "You cut your hair? Was that before or after you broke my sister's heart?"

Her words shot through my chest like an enchanted arrow. "I—"

"Whatever you're selling, we don't want it." Samantha closed the door.

My fingers curled inward, and my nails dug into my palm. I knocked on the door once, twice, but no one answered.

Fine, if that was how she wanted to play this game, I would entertain her.

I had nowhere else to be. I dropped my luggage and sat with my back against the wall. It was funny how when you were alone, all the terrible things you did crept upon you. I remembered Zeren wrapped up like a mummy, almost dead. If I could go back in time, there was nothing I wouldn't do to protect her.

***