Shielding the Beast (discontinued)

Twenty-Five | Memories

A/N:
I think this is edited? Kind of? Maybe? Idk, tell me if you see any mistakes that I missed.

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I stir awake from torturous dreams, my skull racked with a nauseating headache.

It's been nine days. Nine miserable, tormented, starving days. I stayed in the same place behind the boxes, laying there as I helplessly let myself rot from the inside out.

Everyone always told me that you needed your Lifeblood to live. Whether that's a myth or not, I don't know, but one thing is for certain; I feel like I'm dying.

My insides feel like they're rotting. My strength is ebbing away. The vitality that he brought me is gone, the vigor killed out. I can't even feel empty now. Emptiness would be painless, and for that I would kill.

In the distance a town nestled into a rocky mountainside comes into view. All the buildings are polished and uniformed: tan with light grey brick edges and brown tiled roofs.

Italy. Beautiful Italy.

To see this place again brings joy to my broken soul. To return to the land that's acted as a safe place throughout my years of surviving.

It's then that those words told to me all those years ago run through my head.

"Survivors aren't weakened. They're experienced. Fortified."

Seven years ago, and it's still fresh in my mind. It's a part of me now, and also a painful memory of yet another person ripped away from me. He's gone now, but his words still play in my head.

Not only does this country remind me of our time together, but it reminds me of Tessiro. He was a warrior god's incarnate, the Alpha of the Sovereign pack. No one could ever match his genius in battle strategy, or even come close to comprehending his intuition for warfare.

If only he had seen it coming that day.

But he didn't. Nobody could. It was impossible to see... it was red.

The boat jerks as a wave hits the side, bringing me out of my thoughts and back to reality.

It soon becomes clear that the humans have no intentions of docking here, the vessel continuing to float by. I heave myself up, my body feeling like worthless deadweight. Stepping up onto the rail and adapting my balance with the rocking of sea beneath, I stand.

And with the rock cliff in sight, I dive.

.

.

.

The night is cold, merciless against my wet skin and sopping clothes. Water drips in abundance from the soaked dress as I pull myself out of the ocean and onto land. Climbing the steep little hill, the city that has always been my refuge is found on top. My feet begin wandering down a narrow street at the edge of town, dark spots appearing behind me on the pavement to mark my trail.

Down the darkened street, a quiet house is deemed my victim. My shopping trip is kept quick and efficient, extra care being taken to avoid having to dispose of a witness while sneaking in and out of the window. When my feet drop back onto the stone pavement, I'm dressed decently and in clothes that don't rob me of both my dignity and ability to breathe.

This city, despite the exotic beauty and refuge it offers, only causes me pain. It's sacred, holding a sentimentality so strong that it hurts to remember. As I walk the dark streets my mind is plagued with memories of the past. Of Cole. Of Tessiro. A nostalgia so bitter sweet.