Dust and Shadows

Chapter twelve: Nathan

Ashamed and angry, that is how I felt. My hands were trembling as I stood inside the shower, the water running down my body. My fingers ran through my wet, white hair and for a short second a sour chuckle left my lips. My hands trembled and soon, they were gripping my hair tightly, the other one hit the wall hard and cracks appeared in the tiles, digging into my skin. My hand was now bleeding though, sadly, my whole body was already bleeding. I laughed angrily and hit the wall several times.

"Cole.

Blood sucker."

I screamed and hit the wall continuously, imagining I was hitting the face of the damned undead man. Then, a sharp pain ran through my fingers followed by a sickening crack. I had broken my bones. I bit my lips as I stared at the now distorted hand, blood came out of the injuries that were made by the broken tiles.

"I hate myself..." I muttered, leaning my head against the wall.

Once I finished my lovely and refreshing shower I came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped by my waist and another one hanging loosely on my shoulders. I sat down on the edge the bed, not really in the mood of actually changing into new clothes.

The mirror was sitting on the corner of the bedroom, I walked towards it and looked down at the reflexion it was making. Standing in front of me was a male with white hair and somewhat tanned skin. He was surely muscular, not too much but just enough... Broad shoulders and strong looking. However the poor creature had a hateful and pitiful look, his body was covered with scratches and bruises, some deeper and darker, some shallow and smaller. His hair was wild and his yellow eyes seemed to be full of anger and hate. As I raised my hand the male in front of me did so too, all of his actions the same as mine.

Was this pitiful man me?

My jet-black hair was long gone and replacing it was the white hair. Warlocks lived with magic, without it they were nothing... Nothing at all. The life source of a warlock was always his magic and whenever he lost it, he would die because of lack of power. He thankfully hadn't died, but the side-effects of the battle with the bloodsucker were visible. All warlocks had different ways of showing the side-effects, mine was my hair. My hands reached for a piece of cloth that was laying besides the mirror. This mirror was always covered by this cloth, hidden away from me. It was a mystery of how the cloth had fallen off the mirror, and it was surely another mystery how I had been able to watch my reflexion without having the need and urge to break and destroy it.

The mirror was now covered. It was now... gone from my sight.