T'was Arranged

♆Glimmer♆

"Everybody says that time heals everything. But what of the wretched hollow? The endless in between? Are we just going to wait it out?

And sit here? Just going to wait it out? And sit here, cold? Just going to sweat it out?" ~ Wait It Out, Imogen Heap

Glimmer

I haven't moved since the paramedics came and took his body.

I was absolutely numb to everything for the past day. All I could do was sit and listen and wait and listen for what was about to come next for me.

After the whole incident, I over heard Logan speaking with the paramedics and a couple law enforcements about the cause of death. They were questioning why my magical imprint was so prominent in the room. I just knew I was going to be arrested and tried for my crime.

What was the penalty for murder in Nightfall Coven again? Five, ten, fifteen years in witch purgatory? Or death? Death sounded about right to me. Maybe that's just what I needed. Death.

Of course, Logan lied. And I'm so grateful and angry he did because if the people did find out I killed a man, this whole arrangement would be off before it even really started. Reid would kill my entire coven and torture my family. But I was also angry because maybe that's what I deserved.

He told them that Fredrick wanted to talk with me about my father and asked for my presence. Fredrick apparently mentioned an heirloom of some sort sitting in his bag -- which was conveniently downstairs at the time -- that my father would've wanted me to have. I was on my way to get it when I heard a thud in the room and turned back to find out what it was. When I found Fredrick in that horrifying...state, I tried to use spells to revive him. It was a pretty plausible reason for why my magic was swirling around Fredrick's guest room.

But I knew the truth.

I killed him.

What are you supposed to feel after you kill someone?

Guilt? Check; it was very much eating away at my insides. Grief? Check. Even if I didn't know the guy and even though he pissed me off thoroughly, I didn't want him to die. I'd never wish that type of death upon anybody. Remorse? Check. Stress? Check. Disappointment in myself? Double check.

I knew I was feeling all of those things, but at the same time I wasn't. It was like they were locked away in a little box inside my brain so far away from me, to the point where even these emotions were dulled. I was numb. Probably in shock. I couldn't really think straight. Actually, I was trying not to think at all for fear that if my thoughts wander, they would become toxic.

"Sage," Logan said as he walked into his room. I was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at a wall, too scared to look at anything else.

I thought about replying to him, but then I remembered the lump sitting at the base of my throat and the water burning to fall out of my eyes and decided that opening my mouth wasn't the best decision. I refused to cry in front of him again.

"Sage," He repeated, slowly walking further into the room. When he got the same reaction, Logan sighed and sat down on the bed with me. It was quiet only for a few seconds before he continued, "You should get some rest, Sage. It's one in the morning."

I wanted to yell at him to stop talking to me with that voice. That weird, gentle, concerned voice he has because all it did was make me more confused and guilty. Why does he do that? Why does he pretend to care? Why is he caring when I just killed someone? He should've turned me in. He should be afraid. He should have me killed.

I didn't move a muscle.

"Come on, Sage, you can't stay this way forever."

Maybe if I do, he'll leave me alone. Just leave me with my non-existent, but still very much there thoughts.