Lost Amongst Many

Chapter 7

I was very ill prepared to fight for my life, so I sat there in shock and confusion whilst the King pulled the now bloodied dagger from my chest. I felt my lungs begin to close from shock, and my heart speeding up to make up for blood loss, but I could not react physically.

I knew if I moved, it would hurt and I would most likely die, but if I did not, I would die faster. The King stood, and staggered away as if drunken. I began to realize what was happening more, and my body had begun to go into shock. I was hyperventilating, and I knew my lungs had closed up and my heart was overloaded. Next to me, my sharp, painful breaths woke Jerome.

He ripped a hole in his cage, and applied extreme pressure to my wound. He carefully picked me up, still holding the wound, and took me to who I assumed was the medic.

She cried out, and wrapped the gash in gauze tightly. She forced Jerome to wash the blood off his hands, even though his facial expression said he wanted to leave it there. For some reason, bacs like the smell of blood, and do not like to get rid of that sensation fulfiller. So Jerome was unhappy when the medic told him to wash his hands.

She sent me back to the cage with an ice pack and a heavily gauze-wrapped ribcage. I fell asleep fairly quickly once I was inside my cage again. I was spent.

Morning came with a shrill shriek from the far hall- the bedroom of the King. A small, petite woman ran out of the room, a long black dress and white apron adorning her figure. A maid, I guessed.

She ran to a separate room, and other, larger humans- men- went in the room. They left carrying a rug, rolled up to contain and hide the contents. I knew full well what it was though. It was the King.

Another human left the hall carrying an abundance of rope, the end tied in a slip knot loop. A noose. The King had hanged himself. I do not understand why he would do that though. He had everything.

Rob entered the room, and came out with a black deadpan expression. He did not know what to think. I almost laughed, because I had gone through much more, and Jerome even more than I. I did not laugh, as that is rude and unconforming to nature. I took a deep breath to suppress my laughter, and it hurt my ribs. I coughed instead.

The sharp gaze I received from Rob was silencing, as if he were trying to pry an answer away from me without a question. I tilted my head and watched as he shook his head, and wiped away the few tears he had.

He noticed I was trying not to laugh, and came over to me.

"What do you know? Why are you laughing?" He snapped.

I stayed silent, afraid to make him angrier. It also would have hurt more.

"What happened to you? Why are you all bloody?"

"The King decided to stab me in the middle of the night. Ask Jerome."

Rob turned to Jerome for an answer. Simply, Jerome dipped his head in a nod, and Rob looked distraught. He seemed to ponder the idea, and dismissed it. He shook his head.

'My dad wouldn't do that. Where'd you get the knife?"

"You think I intentionally hurt myself? I could have died. I have no reason to kill myself. My kind is conditioned to live through any hardship. We do not think suicidally. We are immune to thinking such a way. Humans on the other hand, are not. And if you think for a second I killed the King, I am a vegetarian, and do not kill. Do not pin me under a rock with false accusations, young King."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? You are, are you not? Is that not what the crown upon your head says?"

Rob spun on his heel, cloak flowing behind him as he left the room.