The Crimson Blade

That feeling..... -Rayn-

Sup guys?

Dedicated to: BaineTelrunya

Thx for reading:-D

Btw, My birthday is the 30. As a present,  would everyone who reads this comment? it would make my year:-D

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You're just gonna stand there and watch me burn?

Well that's alright because I like the way it hurts.

Just gonna stand there and hear me cry?

That's alright because I love the way you lie

I love the way you lie.

Smack.

Monster!

Right stab to the left with side of blade.

Impure beast!

Left cross slice across chest.

Devil's child!

I let out a roar of rage, and my swords clanged together as they entered the fighting dummy's chest. Straw poured from it's openings, like blood leaks from a fresh wound.

I lean my sweaty forehead against the hilts, sweat poring down my muscled chest in beads. My dark hair flew around wildly into my eyes in wet strings.

My mask clung to the sides of my face, and In utter anger I tore it off and over my head.

It hurt.

Something was hurting, but it wasn't my body.

It was my soul.

The Monster in my chest had retreated to it's cave, and it was crying.

I watched in disbelief as tears leaked from my eyes, create tracks down my cheeks.

I find myself surprised. I haven't cried since.....

Since I was last whipped.

I find myself staring at the mask in the dirt. It has been so long since I had taken it completely off before.

But I don't wander down that path any longer, I refuse to remember those memories, it just brings pain.

I wasn't hiding my past.

I was burying it.

"It hurts don't it?"

I jumped, my bare chest heaving. Natasha was leaning against the worn doorway, her arms crossed against her chest. Her eyes held something, I just didn't know what.

"Don't know what you mean" I scoffed, going to sit on the stone bench that held my shirt and cloak.

"Don't pretend ye heart isn't hurting, I see the tears of ya soul on yer face" She strolled past me into the courtyard, stopping where I had beat the shit out of the dummy.

I remained silent, not knowing what to say. I watch as she bends down and picks up the fabric of my mask, and runs it through her fingers. She turns to face me, her chocolate eyes full of,

sympathy?

Her hair is not tied up like usual, its tight curls proofing out behind her.

"What ya feel is not physical pain but spiritual. God gave us a spirit, and yer's is crying not out of pain, but out of grief."