An Oath In Blood (Book #3)

Chapter 40: Wish I Wasn't A Survivor

CORVINA HAWKE

I had a complicated relationship with the dark. Sometimes, I found myself craving it, just so I could hide in the folds of darkness and disappear for a few moments. Other times, I found myself running away from it, scared of the shadows that might be lingering in those same folds I sometimes found solace in.

Tonight, I couldn't bear to be alone, to be coccooned in the darkness where my fears might manifest into reality, looking for a chance to grab me. So, I lay wide awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, the bedside lamp casting comforting beams of light on one side of the room that scattered across the walls, dimming as they reached for the far end of the room. My brain was muddled with memories but it was nothing compared to the mess in my heart.

The emotions were so tangled now that I could no longer tell one apart from the other. I turned to my side, focusing on the light of the lamp until spots formed in front of my eyes, disrupting my vision. What was I going to do?

Hades was still in London. He was still on the loose. And it every second that I couldn't get to him before he got to me drove me insane. He was a smart man, an evil genius of sorts. But so was I.

The thought soured my mood, my annoyance pushing to the forefront of my heart and mind, pushing away all other emotions. I was evil, too—I didn't like the reminder. I never had. I did everything I could to survive but I wasn't evil. I killed people for money but I wasn't evil. I had pushed away people for most of my life but I wasn't evil. At least I didn't want to be.

I was made into a killing machine when I was only fourteen-years-old. I was sold to the devil at such a young age yet I never let them bleed their hatred into me. I kept people at arm's length to protect myself, not because I hated them. I chose not to love because loving someone meant trusting them and once upon a time, I had trusted my parents. Now, there was an empty grave with my name on it and a tattoo on my back that scorched my skin every time I was reminded of it.

I closed my eyes, watching the grey dots dance in front of my closed eyelids, but they parted to allow the memory through that had me sitting up in bed, shaking my head. The wound in my leg screeched noiselessly, making me wince.

Careful, Cor.

I tried to blink away the grey dots from my eyes as if the memory would disappear with them. My insides shook with barely suppressed rage but what truly ticked me off was the fear that lingered right beneath the rage, reminding me of my helplessness. I exhaled slowly, like Lily had taught me to. But it did nothing to help the tightening cord around my heart.

Air, I needed air. It felt as if I was back in the small cell at the Academy, the walls closing in on me on a rough night. The concrete walls of the cell sometimes collapsed on me, crushing my bones until I heard them snap and disintegrate into nothing. I would curl into a ball on those nights and wait for the fight to leave my body. But my soul was stubborn, it would never stop fighting, would cling to the snapping threads of patience and resilience.

I often hated myself for not giving up.

A lot of children who were brought to the Academy went mad. Some died in their cells after a brutal training session or punishment. Some would take their own lives. Some would simply go quiet, going through the trainings only to snap one day—they were put down by the orders of the Big Guy like they weren't living, breathing humans but rabid canines who posed a danger to his business.

I hated myself for not being one of those children. I hated myself for holding myself together day after day. I hated myself for living. I hated myself for surviving.

I dragged a hand through my tousled hair, the sweat beading on my forehead adding to my discomfort. I was desperate for the sun to come up. Because in the light of day, I could forget about the concrete cell, the polished floors of the training arena, the woman with the rotting teeth, and the man who sat behind closed doors, controlling my life.