𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓

[8]: Just a Bird

"Where are you taking me?"

Marilyn had a firm grip on Cassie's wrist as he pulled her through the trees. She winced in pain at the twigs and rocks catching on her bare feet as she was dragged.

He didn't respond until they reached an opening. It wasn't as big as the one the cottage was in, but it was still quite large.

She noticed all the indents that were engraved in the wood of the tall trees. Cassie sighed in relief as he stopped tugging and she could rest her bruised feet on the clear dirt.

Marilyn positioned himself behind the girl with a strong arm wrapped around her waist. "I think it'll benefit you to know how to use one of these." He rasped into her ear, his breath fanning over her neck. Goosebumps formed on her skin.

He peeled her arm away from her body and opened her palm from behind. He slowly cupped her hand and gingerly placed his gold switchblade into her hand.

"But this is yours," She stammered, anxiety rising in her chest. Even the thought of using a knife made her want to vomit.

"It's yours for the day," He murmured, positioning the blade in her fingers in a way that made it look like she knew what she was doing.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Cassie protested, but Marilyn pulled her arm back above her head. She was shaking.

He guided her hand in his, then flicked their wrists forward. The blade went flying, and wedged its way into the tree exactly on the target that had been painted with blood that belonged to who knows what.

She was shocked. Despite the act it was all Marilyn, an overwhelming wave of accomplishment washed over her.

It was as if everything he did was so sharp and precise. She wondered how long it took him to be so exact.

He briefly let her go to retrieve the knife. Cassie was immediately disappointed the moment his arms peeled away from her. After the moment when he woke up, Cassie decided not to question her feelings at all. She hated that she felt the way she did as she should hate him. But Cassie didn't.

He dropped the blade into her hand once again. "Try," He insisted. She decided against making a scene. He had been better with her recently, but who knows when he could snap again.

Cassie raised her arm back, trying to remember the exact way and angle Marilyn had done it at. Once she was happy with her position, Cassie flicked it. She'd tried to imitate everything he did, and to some extent, it worked. The knife was lodged under the outer circle. It was the closest away from the bulls-eye, but it was better than she had hoped.

She smiled and turned to Marilyn. His expression was unreadable. He retrieved the knife again, pulling it out with ease. "Again," He commanded. And so she did.

This time, the knife was in between the biggest two circles. It wasn't a drastic change.

Cassie threw the blade again and again. It was clear she was getting noticeably closer to the bulls-eye. Marilyn however, seemed to be growing impatient with how long it had taken her to be accurate with her flicks.

"Come here," He instructed, before telling her to wait. He disappeared into the forest for a moment, before returning. Cassie's eyes drifted down to the struggling pigeon grasped in his leather clad arms.

"What are you-"

"I wan't you to kill this bird for me. Can you do that?" He growled, not even flinching as it writhed.

Her heart stopped. No. Absolutely not. "Are you crazy?" She snapped, dropping the knife to the ground. It hit the ground with a blunt thud.

"Cassie, pick up the knife," He snarled, his grip on the bird tightening ever so slightly. She shook her head fiercely before stumbling back, away from him.

"I'm not like you, Marilyn! I can't kill innocent-" She sputtered, but was soon cut off.

"Like your uncle was fucking innocent! Nobody is, Cassie, nobody," He seethed, shoving the bird under one arm and bending to the ground. He swiped the blade from the ground and forced it into her fingers. "It's food. You want to eat something other than blackberries? You kill it."

Her hand shook furiously. Everything around her seemed to fade into background noise. The trees blurred and so did Marilyn. All she could see was the pigeon. He was right - she was growing tired of blackberries, and it wasn't like she was killing a human being. It made her absolutely sick to her stomach to think it.

Tears ran down the curves of her cheekbones and dropped off of her chin. She looked to him to see if anything had changed, but he was still staring at her with that blank expression she'd grown to hate.

He faded away again. Just her and that stupid bird. She weakly raised her arm, holding the blade like Marilyn had told her.

She repeated the same phrase over and over again in her mind. It's just a bird. It's just a bird.

The girl trembled, before placing the blade's edge to the pigeon's neck. It squawked, desperately trying to escape.

It's just a bird.

She pressed the knife deeper into the pigeon's neck, until she felt it puncture the skin. She almost threw up at the motion.

It's just a bird.

She sliced the blade across its neck. Red soaked into its white feathers and it stopped struggling in Marilyn's arms.

It's just a bird.

The blade slipped between her fingers. She hated him for making her kill it. She hated him.

Marilyn tossed its corpse aside and stalked over to the girl. He felt an over whelming sense of pride for the girl, but also a tinge of something he couldn't recognise.

She hoped it was guilt.

Cassie jumped when two strong arms wrapped around her shoulders. He shushed her, rocking their bodies back and forth gently. She cried into his shoulder. How could he do this?

She felt like hitting him. She felt like breaking from his grasp and running away. But somehow she couldn't peel herself away from him.