Killing Softly ✞ (gxg)

11 | i'm sorry

Willowy hands gently stroked over the golden bracelet sitting on top of the vanity like some sort of sentiment alluding to the gentle moment it drew to her mind.

Although the bracelet was her possession, her hand decided to leave it there in half-hearted hopes that it could remain a sentiment to that other side of her that the girl had brought out despite her ceaselessly unceremonious attitude. Chewing her lip, she let her hand, clad in gold and ruby rings, trail along the side of the vanity as she traipsed towards the bed.

It was just before dawn, the sky outside still dark besides the promise of day lingering in its corner in a soft orange glow. It was a good distraction for her eyes which had calmed by the time that had elapsed but were still contracting with the emotions running rampant within her.

She glanced down slowly, her eyes seeming to drag their feet as they did so, upon the girl who was the object of her moral struggles. She lay in the bed, her face still pale, with a damp rag resting upon her forehead which Holden had placed there to bring her fever down. Her closed eyes seemed to be sinkholes in her skull, circled with a darkness that only physical ailment could bring.

I should have stopped.

Digging into her lower lip with her teeth, the Queen carefully took a seat on the bed, careful to avoid the girl's frail body. The entire room was silent as the flickering candle on the nightstand beside the bed cast dancing shadows across the girl's face. There was nothing but the sound of her shallow breaths causing her chest to loosely rise and fall and the occasional pop of the candle's wick burning under the tiny flame.

The Queen knew not what to feel. She told herself that the girl's misbehavior could not have simply gone undisciplined, for she did kill four of her men and tried to escape. She had even attempted to kill her, preceding the revelation that her gun was out of bullets. But something in her was weighing the Queen down, making her heart swing heavy in her chest. She could hardly breathe because of how achingly tight her throat had been clenched all throughout the night. It was a maelstrom of emotions flooding her at an unrelenting rate that caused her to inhale deeply and then exhale, watching the way her breaths caused the girl's hair to waver against her shoulder.

She could see the redness of her neck despite it being covered with gauze and layered with her blonde locks. Holden must have bandaged the wound, but the skin around it was tainted with a crimson bruise, the other side of her neck that she had grabbed slightly marked up, as well.

Never before had seeing the marks she inflicted upon a human affected her so. She gulped the hard, dry lump in her throat, her eyebrows threading as she reflected upon herself. She was an often introspective person, being a leader with a lot of decisions and concerns constantly weighing on her mind, but never had she felt so stuck inside herself. She didn't even realize how long she had stayed there in the bed, sitting by the girl's side, staring down at her with a troubled expression.

Guilt was toxic to someone like the Queen. She did not need it. She could not have any emotion, especially guilt, weigh upon her and affect her superior choices. She had to always think and act logically, analyzing every situation and reacting appropriately.

This was not an appropriate reaction. But there was nothing she could do; as much as she wanted to flip a switch and turn her feelings off, which she was usually capable of doing, she felt suddenly in the dark and unable to locate that switch. It was lost somewhere inside her, or, rather, she was lost inside herself.

She realized the length of time she had spent contemplating her unregulated feelings when a ray of light shone through the window and struck her across her face. She glanced up, eyes sparkling in the light, to realize that the top crescent of the sun was beginning to peak between the mountains.