Chapter Text
I still think of the first time I ever killed. The way the fury had burned away my fear. The way my brothers and sisters had been crying. I remember it like it was yesterday. I believe I will never forget it. Once, someone asked me what it was like to take a life. I didn’t have an answer for them.
There is a feeling that comes when you feel a pulse throb for the last time, when you see the eyes stop blinking. I could never define it, never truly explain it. I suppose it depends on why the person is killed. Every life I’ve taken was in the benefit of all life on earth. That doesn’t rid me of guilt though. I’m not sure why I am the owner of the hands that must kill the parasite, but it’s always been my job. Why have I been deemed fair in terms of death? I am as illogical as a pufferfish, acting on instinct, and am as emotionally capable as a simple child, but I have been given the power to end lives.
I try not to think about that. I try to tell myself that the deaths I cause are necessary, are needed. But to me, murder is wrong, no matter the form, no matter the “necessity” or “need”. But while I feel guilt for the lives I’ve taken, I could never regret them. Even my first kill, the one that touched me the most, I could never regret.
The foster home had been crowded that night, with all seven children in the house. It wasn’t particularly unusual to have all the kids home, but with both our foster parents there, it became tenser than normal. Usually they’d be out in the city, drinking and socializing at the parties sitting around the richer parts of the city, but the storm outside brought them back to the children they often forgot. Maybe that was what made them so violent that night, or maybe it was the withdrawal from their usual alcoholic ways, but they were worse than ever on that day.
Usually, I was their only punching bag. I was the oldest, and it was virtually my duty to protect the younger kids. I would let them berate me and yell at me, even let them slap me sometimes, when they got that mad. I knew that in the morning, they would return to the sweet, loving parents I knew so well.
But three days after I turned thirteen, I found out the truth. All the children had been quiet, sensing Roleeal and Antara’s anger. Even little Tesinia, who was only three at the time, was silent in the face of that veiled threat. I remember how Cormitan had been washing dishes, his little fingers wrinkled from the water. He was 11, the second oldest, and had a beautiful smile. Antara always cooed about that smile, telling him how “everyone would love that smile!~”. He was a quiet boy, but kind, in a way I wished I was.
I had been nearby, sweeping the floors as quietly as one could, and keeping an eye on all my other siblings. My ‘father’ had been sagging on a couch, while Antara looked out the window from her spot at the table, drumming her fingers on the silk tablecloth boredly. Roleeal yawned, flinging an arm over the back of the couch and glaring at me.
“Wriothesley. Tuck in your shirt. You look like a slop.” I glanced up at him, biting my tongue to stop the snarky retort. I reached down, slipping the edge of my shirt into my trousers while holding the broom with my other hand. Roleeal huffed, eyeing me before leaning back again.
I opened my mouth, about to say something I would regret when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cormitan slip on a puddle of water from the sink and fall forward. Time seemed to slow as the clean plates slipped out of his arms, dropping to the floor. I watched his eyes widen as his arms tried to reach for them, but missing. I jolted as the sound of 8 plates smashing on the ground brought everyone’s attention. Cormitan screamed, scrambling away from the mess on the ground and clutching his face. He had fallen face first into the mess of plate shards, and blood leaked from between his fingers. Antara shot up from her seat, grabbing her dress and hurrying towards the sobbing boy.
I ran forward too, crouching at Cory’s side and panicking. What do I do? Should I clean up the mess? Should I take him to the hospital? Should I comfort the other children? I could hear them behind me, crying and whimpering. Some moved forward, trying to see what was happening. Roleeal pushed off the couch, frowning as he looked over his wife’s shoulder. She knelt beside Cory, panic written all over her face. She never showed any emotion, and I tilted my head in confusion. Maybe she was actually worried about us? Somehow I doubted it.
She grabbed Cormitan’s wrists, pulling his hands away so she could see his face. I choked, slapping a hand over my mouth at his condition. He whimpered, tears mixing with the blood rolling down his face. I pushed back bile, standing up and using my body to block the views of the other kids. Some had seen though, and they screamed, burying their heads in the older kids’ shoulders.
Cory’s beautiful face was a patchwork of deep cuts, most notable of which was one that ran from the middle of his lips up the side of his face and over his eye. The eye was closed, but he could see the blood pooling out from beneath the eyelid. His gums were visible, with the cuts maring his mouth and turning his lips into pieces. I wanted to turn away, but I couldn’t, watching in horror as Antara let out a horrified screech. Her fingers tightened around Cormitan’s wrists, screaming incoherent words at him. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, with how jumbled up it was. But I did hear one thing, one sentence.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? HOW WILL YOU SELL WITHOUT YOUR FACE? YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE OUR BEST SALE!” my heart stopped, freezing in my chest at those words. I grabbed her hand, yanking her away from him. I pulled Cory into my chest, letting the boy sob into my white shirt. I stared at her in horror and she seemed to have realized what she said.
“What the fuck does that mean? What do you mean sell?” I growled, my voice rising with rage. Antara narrowed her eyes, scowling. Her voice was raspy and mean, her eyes dark with anger.
“Watch your mouth, boy. It’s none of your concern what we do with the children we adopt.” She said at the same time as her husband snapped “She never said anything about selling! What are you talking about?” Antara whipped around, her eyes full of fire as she looked at Roleeal. He glared right back, having a silent conversation with her. I looked towards the third oldest child behind my ‘parents’, jutting my chin towards the bedrooms. She nodded, grabbing the other 4 children and rushing them out of the room.
I rested Cory against the wall, stroking his hair before standing up. I uncoiled like a snake, my tall frame towering over the arguing couple. My rage was palpable, a living, breathing beast in my chest, snarling and snapping. My fists clenched by my sides. My ‘father’ looked up at last, scowling and standing for himself. Antara, scrambled back, realizing what was about to happen.
“You… sold… my siblings?” My nostrils flared, my tone low and heavy with my fury. I wasn’t quite taller than my Roleeal yet, but we were nearly the same height, and I was much stronger than he was. He sneered at me, his ugly face twisting in the hate that came out when he was drunk. We were chest to chest, the tension thick enough to slice as he spoke.
“Well, why else would we adopt a bunch of snotty little brats?” He hadn’t even fully finished before I grabbed him by the collar and punched in the face so hard one of his teeth embedded in my knuckles. I hissed in pain as he cried out, pushing me off him. I barely stumbled back before I leaped onto him, throwing him to the floor, and smashing his face with my fist again. He yelled in fury, grabbing me by the shirt and spinning us around so that he was on top. My head hit the wood next to the smashed plates, and one of them scratched me beneath my right eye. It reignited my anger, pushing me up again as he pummeled me. I slammed him into the kitchen counter as Antara screamed, throwing him over it and smashing the vase on the counter. Glass flew and he howled, scrambling towards me and grabbing me by the hair. He smashed the back of my head into the edge of the counter, and pain raced through my skull, my vision going black for a moment, I roared, flipping him over my head and into the floor. I dropped onto him again, punching him over and over again.
Something slammed into the side of my head, pushing me off him. I looked up to see Antara, wrenching up a thick rolling pin to hit me again. I rolled out of the way and it cracked the floor beside my head. I reared up, ripping the pin from her hands and shoving her up against the wall. She grunted, kneeing me in the stomach with one of her high heeled shoes. I winced, dropping her, and she slapped me in the face with a cutting board she had grabbed. My head snapped to the side, my mouth filling with blood. I grabbed her by the wrist, dragged her towards me when she lunged for the knife drawer. She was taller than me, but thin, and on heels. But I slipped on the same water Cory had, and she pulled her arm out of my grip. She pulled out the largest knife in the drawer, whipping around and slicing me across the shoulder and chest with it. I screamed, staggering back and clutching my chest.
I heard Cory crying in the corner, still clutching his face. I made the mistake of looking towards him. I was suddenly bowled over by Roleeal, who had woken up, and I fell to the floor, smacking my head into the wood. I gasped, the adrenaline coursing through my veins being the only thing keeping me going. I scrambled away from Roleeal, stumbling in the dizziness the hit to my head had given me. My eyes widened as Antara ran at me, holding the knife above her head. I lunged clumsily out of the way, slamming into the side of the couch and spinning away as she let the knife fall. The ripping of fabric was followed by her yell of frustration, and I turned to find her trying to wrench the knife out from where it was stuck in the couch. Roleeal staggered up, running for me and I leaped toward the kitchen, grabbing one of the largest shards of ceramic from the floor and turning to bury it in Roleeal’s stomach. He choked, grabbing at his wound, but I wrenched the shard out, letting tumble to his knees. Antara finally unhooked the knife, whipping around. She saw her husband, bleeding on the floor and cried out in rage, flying at me with the knife. I swept the shard out in an arc, but she ducked, stabbing me in the side with the knife. I cried out, but took the opportunity to fist my hand in her collar, and spearing her in the side of the neck with the shard. She inhaled sharply, stumbling back and falling back against the wall. Blood stained the wall behind her, dragging down behind her. Her breathing turned ragged, and she clutched the piece of ceramic embedded in her throat.
I stumbled towards the kitchen, leaning against the counter and breathing hard. The adrenaline started to wane, exhaustion and pain setting in. I staggered to the couch, slouching into the fabric and letting the blood seep into the furniture. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to think about the fact that I had just killed someone. Two someones, I saw as I turned to find Antara still and dead. I laid my hand across my eyes, lying my head back. I couldn’t stop the tears spilling down my face. I’d never had any affection for those creatures called my ‘parents’. I’d secretly even wished for their deaths at times. But… the reality of them not being alive anymore… of them not being alive anymore because of what I’d done… The guilt was stifling, and as I heard the sobbing of the other children and the soft wail of the Gardes marching towards us, all I wanted was to have never been through tonight. To never have known the truth.