Death In My Voice [Severe Editing Era]

Chapter 12

It's not like you didn't know that
I said I love you and I swear I still do

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        Mad dog barking stands in my ears. I'm not gonna hide from him; I'm not gonna run away either. 

         But I'm still trying to listen. 

         And I'm falling because of the light of an enormous searchlight which breaks through the lingering darkness of the night. I'm sinking directly into a mud, rain lashes madly on the cheeks, but I almost give up and lower my head. 

         The pain is terrible, tearing the chest spreads throughout the body and doesn't allow to move. I cannot stand and scream. The cry is insane, like a wounded animal crying out of despair to some higher forces. 

         The dogs immediately freeze, start to whine and press to the ground, closing the ears with their paws. 

         The glass of the searchlight bursts, and already nothing illuminates the battlefield, except for the pale moon in the sky.

         And I still scream.

        The people who are looking at me are already dead, and their blood mixed with flimsy dirt. We failed the task. Now we are waiting for a terrible punishment from Frieda Gerstacker. But what's the difference, if I still don't remember about it?

       Only bruises on the body and a broken voice will remind of nightmares. I stop shouting, and suddenly there is a ringing silence. A puff of steam escapes from my mouth, and I wrap my body in my hands. Suddenly I see vague silhouettes ahead:

        A man and a woman. 

       "Mama? Papa?!" I'm shaking my head as if trying to shake out these vague images. 

        "Du hast uns getötet." (You killed us.)

         Their faces express nothing. My dad holds my mom's hand, and in the light of the moon, I see her skirt wiggle. 

       I sharply open my eyes and squeeze Pietro's hand stronger. 

       I let his hand and then I sit on the bed, picking up my legs. I bury my hand in my hair and feel how fast my heart beats. 

       "Y/n?" Pietro sits down next. I open my eyes and raise my face. I notice that the curtains sway just like my mother's skirt in that nightmare. When I look at Pietro, like a wounded beast, he says nothing. I climb onto his lap, placing my legs on either side of his thighs. "What happened?" he gently kisses my temple and easily holds his fingertip on my bareback. I cover my eyes and try to calm my breathing. "Don't you wanna talk about it?"

          I shake my head and hug his neck. His hair is so soft and still smells like that citrus shampoo. Pietro slowly leads along a slightly protruding spine, from which I get a whole bunch of goosebumps. Pull away and look straight into his eyes. Such blue in the light of street lamps, they look at me a little restless, but still with the same boyish sparks.

        Pietro takes my hands and unfolds his wrists towards him. Slowly pats on the bracelets, and then hooks his finger alone and runs his index finger over the skin under it. It stiffens for a moment and looks up at me. 

        "Why do you never take off your bracelets or watches?" I looked down remembering the blackest period of my life thanks to the question of Pietro. It seems now is the time to open up.