The Angel of Death

VII

Jun was lying. And somehow she had convinced Asher and the twins that she was telling the truth and turned them against me. I remembered closing the door after us when we laid Jun into bed. If the bedrooms were soundproofed, then how did we hear her scream? 

She must have intentionally planned this scene all along. Getting out of bed. Opening the door. And shedding those fake crocodile tears.

The announcement mentioned that in the death game, the killer would receive a special prize. The box with the forged photographs. That was the prize she received for her murderous deed. They wanted to sow the seeds of distrust and suspicion amongst us to continue the death game. But how could I prove it?

"Wait!" I blurted out, "Check behind the other paintings in the other rooms! You're lying about the box. You never got it from behind that painting. You got it as a consolation prize for killing your own coach." The words were harsher than I intended, but I couldn't hold back. It made me furious. When it seemed like everything had finally calmed down. Another catastrophe arose. And yet again, no one believe anything I said. It was getting to be a tiresome repetitive cycle.

"How dare you!" she screamed, bringing her foot up and down. Her stomps knocked the air out of my lungs. It hurt, but I took them as proof that I was going in the right direction. I had found her weakness.

"Emi is right," Asher butted in, pushing Jun away from me, "Let's see it then." A hint of a smile flashed across his face as Jun tried to stop him, but Asher batted her hand away as he approached the painting. I wanted to smile too. Asher still believed in me. I could still count on him. He was still on my side.

I was relieved, but all the blood drained from my face when I saw there was indeed a compartment behind the painting. Jun almost looked just as in shock for a second, but her face changed to one beaming with victory.

"There's the compartment," she gloated, coming back to torture me, "but a rat like you will still try to squirm your way out of it, huh?"

Impossible.

I checked behind the paintings in Room A, Room B, and Room C. There were no compartments behind any of them. I was so sure of it. This can't be right. I can't be wrong.

"Emi, I'm disappointed in you."

Asher's disheartened voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Big sis Emi—" Apollo joined in before his sister lightly punched him.

"She's not our sister," she refuted, "don't call her that!"

Everything came crashing down. I wanted them to believe me. I wanted them to put their faith in me. I wanted to be needed by them. 

But in the end, I was the problem. I was the unwanted one. I was the orphan.

My vision blurred as my eyes filled to the brim with tears. I tried to blink them back. Tears were a sign of weakness. I can't be weak now.

"Awww, poor baby's crying now," Jun crooned, as she forcefully grabbed a strand of my hair to lift me up, making sure to inflict as much pain on me as possible. "But you know that only victims are allowed to cry right? So why are you crying?" Her hand swung down in a powerful slap. 

"Why are you crying when you're the one who killed him!" she repeated, not satisfied with only one slap. She let her claws loose across my face, mercilessly ripping into my skin. I lost count of the number of times she did it. But I didn't care. I had already given up. There was no hope.

My world grew dimmer and dimmer. Spinning around me until I blacked out. Was I dead now?

I hope so.

Something warm dribbled in my mouth. It smelled of sweet melancholy like a once-forgotten scent from childhood, returning to pay a visit. The saccharine syrup was a gift of nectar from the gods.

I let out a cough as I sputtered awake.

My eyes narrowed trying to make out my surroundings but my hair was in the way. I tried to brush my fringe aside, only to find that my hands were restrained. However, I could still make out Jun's figure in front of me.

"Are you awake now?" she teased, "I can't let you die on me this easily. Not after what you made me go through!" She tried to twist my arms, but I wouldn't budge. I pivoted my arms to break free of her grip. Taken aback, she stumbled backward and landed on her behind.

"W-Where'd you find this strength?" she managed to squeak out, her voice quivering.

I didn't answer her. It didn't matter. She was going to die anyway.

I pounced on her, my hands wrapping around her neck as I took a hearty bite. She let out an ear-splitting screech and hopelessly struggled against my hold, flopping like a fish out of water. I would silence her, but I preferred my meals to be warm. 

After a few more nibbles, her body went limp and my interest in her waned.

"So you've finally come to your senses Emi." I turned around. What a disgusting voice. It was grating to my ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Don't call me that," I growled, "dirty bloodsucker!"

"Ahh, so you've finally seen through my cover," he grinned, tilting my chin up with his hand while squeezing my cheeks. "I was getting tired of putting on this charade, but your expressions were so cute." He leaned towards me, running his tongue across the lacerations on my face. 

I swung my arm at him, but missed, barely grazing his nose.

"What a delightful taste!" he mused licking the blood off his fingers, "As expected from a halfblood." He's fast. Faster than I expected. I needed to end this quickly.

I charged forward, aiming for his throat, but he pinned me to the ground. 

"What's the rush," he smirked, "the fun is only beginning. I put so much work into this y'know. Just for you! How do you like it?"

I squirmed, trying to free myself, but he was too strong. He was no ordinary vampire. He had to be a noble.