For the Love of Robin Hood

Chapter 8 - Robin

I winced, taken aback.  He—he loves me?

“I—I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he stuttered, his green eyes pleading.

He wants—needs—for me to say I feel the same.

I couldn’t say anything, though; I was shocked speechless, so I did what anyone else might find the stupidest thing I could ever possibly do.  But I didn’t care.  Even if I think I might like him, might feel the same, I can’t.  I’m not the kind of person who can handle things like this.

I turned and ran.

I don’t know what I was doing; I don’t know where I would go.  All I knew was that I had to get out of there, try to convince myself that all of this is a lie, that William said something else, something that made more sense than he loves me.

I don’t have any problem with emotions because I’m afraid of losing him; I’m just no good at it.  I’ve never liked to admit my feelings, no matter what they are.  I’ve learned to bottle all of them up inside, to the point where I no longer have control of them.  It’s just who I am, and I tend to run away from any problem that has to do with things like this.  Then, I had never meant literally run.  Now, I really do.

I ran and ran and ran until my legs gave out, crashing down in the grass and letting all the tears escape, stream down my face and land in the dirt.  I can’t handle knowing this, that he loves me.  Or, at least, he thinks he does.  I can’t handle having him be so perfect, be there for me, and feel the same way he does.  One tear for every second he must hate me, one tear for every reason why.  And as I count them, falling to the ground, I realize that I will never cry enough tears.  I would need to create so many rivers and lakes, maybe even an ocean.  He must hate me now for running, and he has every right to wish I was dead.

I know I would wish I was dead.

And right now, in this terrible moment with my heart ripped out of my chest, I realize that it’d be better if I was.

I spent the rest of the day waiting for dusk to come, trying to think of everything but William.  It never worked, though.  Every single thought I had ended with him and, no matter what, he wouldn’t leave my mind.  I wish he’d just get out of my head and I could forget about him for just a little while, but I know that I never will.  Try as I might, I won’t be so lucky.  It’s hard to purposely forget something.

I snuck in the cave after watching him leave to go to the clearing, grabbing my cloak, bow, quiver, and sword before turning to the book hollowed out to hide my journal.  I wrote one, final passage before making a piece of parchment appear.

I have to.

And that’s all I wrote on it.

I know he’ll understand when he comes back to see it, he’ll know that I went to show everyone what’s really going on, that I’m not the monster they think I am, and they’re weeping over someone who isn’t dead—unless they’re crying over Nick.  If that’s the case, they sadly have reason to.

And it’s all my fault.

No, I told myself.  Stop it!

But it really is all your fault, said a voice in my head. He’s dead because you were too busy trying to save yourself.

I tried to shake those thoughts and set my mind on what I was doing, but that much was hard.  I turned to leave when I saw William’s sword hanging on the wall, and I couldn’t stop myself from taking it off the wall and running my hands over it, lingering on the blade.  I decided to leave him one present before going, carving his name in the blade with my Magics.  A tear threatened to fall at that, but I held it back and turned away, even more determined to leave now.  I trekked my way through the shadowed woods, forcing myself to focus on the ground in front of me, where every tree was.  I was almost to the edge of the town when I heard a twig snap.