Invictus

02: I'll be good

The room seemed to hold its breath. The tension was palpable and it would make hearts run with vigor of those near it. The room felt as though it was spinning and it sounded like they were whispering incoherently  in a frantic manner of the horrors it had witnessed.

Emily's breath was labored, an audible reminder of her horror at what she had just witnessed. The sick stench of metallic blood filled the air, making Emily want to gag.

In front of her, Benedict stood like a monster. The luminosity of the moon, the light dancing with a trepidation of its own, cast Benedict's face an ethereal glow. His hands were trembling and were tainted scarlet and there, laying before him was an unmoving, cold corpse.

His once immaculate attire was dishevelled and stained. Benedict looked different. His eyes that once burned with scorching warmth that could challenge the sun was cold. Bitterly cold.

"What did you do?" Emily said, her voice trembling as fear gripped her heart and chained it until she could barely breathe, speak, or move. She was frozen in place and she could feel the blood of the dead seeping onto the soles of her feet.

Benedict's gaze slowly turned towards her, his eyes piercing through her that sent an electric current of fear running through her veins. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't tear her gaze away from him. As his mouth curled up into a chilling smile, she felt paralyzed in place. What did he do?

Suddenly, hands covered her eyes and she took a shuddering breath before she heard someone in the distant, their unfamiliar voice echoed, telling her to: "help me!"

Emily jolted awake from her nightmare, panting heavily. Beads of sweat formed and fell on her forehead as she closed her eyes tightly, trying to tell herself that there was no monsters. There was no them.

The memories she had—the bad ones— still haunted her despite the memories catching dust and cobwebs in her mind with how old they had been. Her brothers before were reckless and didn't know how to hide their ugly parts, the bad things that they do to people. The metallic smell of blood always made her sick and the thought of those victims having families, friends. Life. They're dead now with their eyes never being able to see the sun again or to feel the happiness of what life could still offer or the feeling of dying when death comes for them naturally.

Breathe in.

There was always so much blood tainting the floor.

Breathe out.

And there was always them in the scene, looking back at her with a dark look behind their eyes. It always looked too cold, too distant. Too dead.

Breathe in.

Their hands were tainted with sin and they won't clasp their hands together and ask for forgiveness.

breathe ou—

She felt a hand on her arm even before she could see who was pulling it harshly. Emily's eyes immediately opened in panic, her heart beating wildly against her chest.

"Help me." A woman, short hair with a slim frame who looked like she was the same age as Emily, whispered. Her cheeks were red as though she had been running for quite some time, her hands had missing nails and some broken fingers. Her clothes were tattered, almost ripped and barely clinging onto her. Her face had some blood on it and her thighs were bare with sickly red blood slowly trickling down.  Emily didn't want to know how she was bleeding there or where she got the injuries on her body.

The mysterious woman held onto Emily as though she was her saviour. "Please." She sobbed quietly. "Help me, please. They're coming for me."

Emily's breathing increased and her heart was pounding achingly behind her chest. Please don't let this be real, Emily thought as her hands trembled from horror. She didn't want it to be real but the death grip that woman had on her felt very, very real.