How long has it been since then? Weeks? Months? Do I care?
Does it even matter?
The familiar twinge of that bloodied copper scent reaches me as I slide the blade away, concealing it in one of my bags many pockets. I rip my sleeves off, and wrap the blooded cotton fabric around my arm. The animal fought back. Not as fateful as the wrists, but not exactly painless. There is no need to cover up my wrongdoings today; for it should already be taken as theirs. I leave the premises, throwing the strangers jacket over my shoulders to conceal the blood on my arms, the scars, and the fresh wound.
When I'm home I peel off my clothes and take a swim in the crystal lake, it's water cool and soothing like ice as it seemingly flows through my entire body, leaving me almost paralysed as I bask in the soft glow of moonlight. Alone. It smells of spring, of growth, of lilies and innocence, and it feels almost wrong for my meagre body to lay in its depths, for I am no innocent.
Then I am inside, without blood or smell of fresh summer in my hair, in fresh clothes left during my absence by a being I do not yet know the name of yet follow for some misguided purpose. I make my way from the quiet bathroom into the ground floors bedroom. I dare not go upstairs anymore.
Night turns to harsh morning, and I am outside to observe the never changing state of this residence, and see the wonders of nature in their various forms. I explore the vast rolling gardens, and walk for endless hours before I am stirred from my trance by almost nothing, but to me it is not nothing.
A bunch of flowers stand, lone, huddled in a corner as if afraid. Small and frail, yet holding such resilient defiance, a deepening shade of purple that cuts through my vision like a knife, cutting into a blur of memories that make my eyes sting. Violets. That name..
In a swift motion the cold smooth chain necklace around my neck lashes at them, and they wither. I watch as they fall apart and seemingly disappear almost as if time had sped up and consumed them. Then it is back, placed for me to not think about. To not remember why the chain is there. To not remember anything.
I continue to walk.
By afternoon the awaited letter arrives, safely inside of the crumbled cobblestone wall near the gates. I take in it's familiar scent of longing and pain, and then I open it, and do not find what I expect to. It is a meeting, a calling card. It is deaths extended hand, leading me deeper into the world of unknown. I shall meet them. My mind races, and there is only one resolution. I will one day leave this place, and I will, one day, kill them.
____
I arrive at night, letter in hand, with the worn parchment and inked instructions seemingly burnt into my mind. There are people dressed in suits, eyes low, faces blank. They lead me down endless corridors of an unfamiliar territory, and I take in the scenery. It is a flashy hotel, eerily empty, with chandeliers overhead and a piano in the entrance hall. The floors are plush red carpet, the entire complex a splash of illustrious gold, marble and deepening reds.
I realise, as I step into the open hotel room, which feels more like an apartment; that I am spectacularly out of place, and though it does not unnerve me in any way it does make everything feel sharper, more dangerous. I suppose it should - I have entered a murderers lair.
The door is locked behind me, and I see before me a fairly ordinary living space, with doors either side, to a kitchen and presumable bedroom - the door to that, closed. Two sofas sit, in an L shape, facing away from me. I gingerly make my way over and sit down, noting the way it springs back when I press my small body on it, in resistance, like a bad pet. Everything is this room looks straight out of a store - remarkably unused. Lavish and fresh. Like a sinners mortality is to a bird of prey such as myself. A cold breeze flows through me.
I feel a presence behind me, but stay staring forward as they lean over me. Their breath is unwelcome on my neck, as my eyes cast downward to my hands, which I will to stay by my sides and not slap the bastard behind me, or worse - tremble in any sort of unwanted anticipation. "So young. So...tarnished." My shoulders tense slightly at that word. Tarnished. A soft chuckle escapes their lips, making my hairs stand on end.
It feels like an eternity they remain still there, as if inhaling whatever wisps of my being that radiated off me, before they circled around to sit next to me. My eyes snap to theirs, and I take them in. The cold fire in them, the relentless thrashing of madness, the lack of tenderness. They smile ever so wickedly, drawing closer as if to inspect me like some animal they were to buy. My skin crawls, and my mind flickers rapidly between silence and inner destruction.
I stare blankly back at them. They are almost unreadable, confidence lashing out from them and taking up my mind. They have deep, almond eyes, flickering with red light as if at second they could engulf the rich almond inside and explode with a tyrannical red, setting whatever inner clock resides within to explode and go into overdrive. Of course - within normal humans...that was almost impossible.
The rest of their figure is slender, and they wear a suit which radiates power and wealth, with rich gold seems and patterns etched in.
Their hair is thick brown, done up in an almost professional, yet lax, manner. Everything about them spoke 'untouchable'. Not just untouchable - but that they knew it, and that they were undeniably good at their profession.
Their hands were slim too, and staring at them I could imagine them like mine - covered in blood, their entire being fixated on bitter mistakes. Though through their cold bitter eyes - I do not think they would claim it to be mistake. Much rather, a victory of sort.
He held my gaze for a long moment, and I took in the silence and everything around us. "I never got your name." He says, leaning back. I too lean back slightly, as if unravelling slightly.
"I never got my name either." I state, as I feel my heart pulse rhythmically in my chest reminding me of an impatient bird in a cage. There is a short chuckle, cold in the air with a tinge of warmth R the edges. "Well then; think quick for one - Evermore." I bite back the urge to spring an insult and fire it, the word Evermore leaving a bad taste in my mouth. My eyes however give away my disdain as he smirks at the pulsating fiery crackle in them.
"Ebony." I speak, using a name I know I had once used as a cover for a client too obsessed with info - too... curious. "Ebony Evermore. What perfect alliteration. Tell me, was that name from a former client of yours perhaps?" It's then I notice, the pulsating red growing ever so stronger behind his cold lifeless gaze.
"Perhaps indeed." My answers are short and brief, my voice unwavered. He seems unimpressed with his results.
"If you will; I see no need for niceties here. You are a killer - as I am I. I'd like to know for what underlying purpose there is here to which I have been called to answer. If you wish to kill me-" I am cut short, and in a swift motion, there is a short, familiar and numb pain under my chin, a face too close, eyes too bright - too sinister.
Scarlet red drips onto my shirt. He leans past my face, breath curling against my ear in a soft whisper, "you would already be dead." Irrational fear shoots through me like an electrical current, shocking my body awake. I push him away weakly; and he barely resists, though enough for the message to get across to me.
He is powerful whereas I am weak. To him, to myself, I am nothing if not subservient. I feel my bones ache with rage, but subside. I hold my neck, feeling the small cut, urging it to stop bleeding. He holds up to me a tissue - I unwillingly take it.
"I would not kill such a valuable asset. No; in fact I brought you here to bring you to an agreement. A former..." he glances to the side. "Colleague of mine wishes to meet with you." Behind me there are short, heavy footsteps. Then; a haze sweeps my vision as something heavy and cold is on my neck. The last thing I feel is the emotionless man catching me in his grip, and feeling unsettling laughter ripple through his body.
