All the Blood and Gore

My very short Short Story :)

Tw: Mentions of blood and murder (not detailed or gory) 

I took a deep breath in, letting the sensation wash over me. The smell was an odd sense of familiarity, a mixture of known and forgotten. 

The nostalgia rushed over me as I traced the walls with my fingertips, still coated in a deep crimson.  I smiled as I remembered the pain I caused. A minor reminder that I could be happy. 

I strode to my old room, an insignificant part of me wanting to run the other way. No, I told myself, fear should not exist. And if it does, then you shouldn't either.  

I flung the door open, the noise of it slamming against the wall causing me only slight discomfort. 

I stayed as still as possible as I surveyed  the room, checking for any distinct differences, any sign that some one had been or was in here. I found none. 

I slowly made my way over to the bed before gracefully sitting down. You never knew when someone was watching, waiting, ready to strike. At lease I knew how to defend myself, unlike those daft idiots who didn't have a clue I was working for the enemy. Their body's were easily to strike and dispose of. They served their purpose though, even if it was painful to have to fit in and pretend that I was their innocent little pet they could use to parade around. Just thinking about it made me want to gag. 

My fire was not just some fun little power that I had control over. Same with my water. They were both deadly, and not to be messed with. Just like me. 

I thought of my brother, the boy I had left behind. I missed him yes, but it wasn't my fault that he couldn't match my dagger. The poor boy was clueless, wielding  that slightly bent sword coated in rust and dirt. I must give him credit though, if he had cut me, the wound would have been in agony if it got infected. If only he could match me in my duelling skills. 

I put my head in my hands leaning downward. Hair got into my face. I hated it. 

Without much thought, I decided a haircut would solve the problem. I grabbed my dagger from my boot and started cutting away at the layers of hair. Each strand that fell to the floor made my head feel lighter. I felt lighter. 

When I finally looked into the mirror, I gave a rare smile to myself. No longer was I [name redacted] , the rebellions pet. I was [name redacted], the girl who killed a thousand men and would kill a thousand more. 

A/N: Just a random thing I wanted to write. Sorry it's so short! I was thinking about writing the actual story, this is more like an epilogue. Please leave your  thoughts down below. Constructive criticism is appreciated! 

Have a great day/night and remember to look after yourself <3