To Be A Killer

Chapter 86: War Of Hearts

I lay still, my eyes closed, trying to ignore the fact the water in the bathtub is growing colder with each passing minute. This is the first bath I've had in a long while. I haven't had a chance to clean myself since I left Abel a few days ago. The results have left me smelling... less than pleasant.

I've been trying my best to enjoy this-a nice, hot bath-but with the fact that I had to heat up multiple buckets of water-since plumbing is very limited here in the city-the enjoyment has been limited.

But I am clean, which is something I appreciate.

So I stand up out of the bathtub, not bothering to drain it. I grab a towel and dry off, making sure to be gentle with my stitched up arm. It looks much better... almost too much better, if I'm honest. The swelling has gone down, and it's no longer red and inflamed. It still hurts. It still stings, but not as bad. I imagine it should be healed within a few weeks time.

Although I always thought a wound like this, even a flesh wound, would take longer. Huh.

I shake my head, forcing the thought aside as I change into my nightgown. It's not really mine, but no one seemed to mind when I pulled it from the closet.

The fabric almost feels too soft on my skin, too luxurious. I think the same thing when I sit down on the large bed in the center of the room I was given. It's too nice. I'm not used to nice. I'm used to adequate.

But I guess one night of sleeping in a bed much too soft for my liking will work just for today. I almost laugh at just how ungrateful that sounds. Here I am, actually getting to sleep in a bed in a palace-an actual palace-and yet I don't think I'll like it because the bed will be too soft.

But I do feel this way. Luxury isn't what I want, nor is it what I need. Good food, wine, comfortable bedding, soft clothes... it's all so little and yet so big. So big in the fact that people miss this so much they'd kill for it, yet so small in the grand scheme of living,

I understand that things like this should be appreciated, and there are many things I do appreciate, like when I get to have some peanut butter or when I get a new pair of running shoes... but here-even with this nice dress that is soft and pretty, and this bed that I find I practically fall into when I sit down on it-it's not what I want.

I'd rather be at home, in my small bed in the dorm I share with a good twenty other Abel residents. I'd rather be at home with Sam, with Milo, with Penelope... Instead I'm here, laying in a bed, knowing that tomorrow is the day I have to go save the world from Moonchild.

Maxine was right. This wasn't what I'd signed up for when I got into that helicopter. I was fifteen then...

I'm seventeen now... I shouldn't have the weight of the world my shoulders. I'm not even an adult by law. But I guess that doesn't matter anymore. The law doesn't exist, not really.

Death doesn't discriminate, so why should anything else?

I rub my temples, standing up. The wood floor is cold, but I ignore it. My eyes shift to the headset on the nearby dresser. Sam has no doubt gone to bed, and even if he was still awake I doubt Janine would let him stay in the coms shack for fear he may try to talk to me and keep me up when I have such an important mission tomorrow.

I talked to him briefly, after we got back inside the palace, away from the zombies. Jaime had us radio in and tell both Janine and Sam his plan to get us to Comansys Tower. I barely got the chance to actually talk to him, but I guess it's for the best. As much as I care for Sam, I cannot ignore the fact that he is a distraction. With every little tease, every little conversation we have is something that can distract me from my mission. Not talking to him much today is a good way to get myself to focus on what's needed to be done, even when I don't want to do so.