5This is not the begnning
It's not like I wanted it to be this way. The endless thoughts, fears, and doubts. . . I had plans.
Not this.
Never this.
Yet here I am.
I remember the light in his eyes. The way the light faded from them as he died. I remember the way his hair almost hid the scar on his forehead. It's all as clear as day. I remember my first kill with astounding clarity.
The wind was cool, it made me shiver despite the sweat on my body. I could smell winter in the wind, as it brushed my clothes. The knife I held in my hand marred the beauty of the day. I was more aware of the texture of the black ito and dyed ray skin handle beneath my fingers, resting in my palm, than I was of the sky and the sunset.
We stared each other down as he stood across the bride from me, his gaze flat and cold but still shining with life. His feet stood firmly on the concrete as I looked back from where I stood, blocking his path, aware of the grass and dirt beneath my own feet. The feel of freedom at my back and death before me was something I had never experienced.
Maybe that is why this memory is so vivid.
"I will stop you," my voice did not sound as firm as I had wanted it to be, "do not test me."
His lips pulled back into a menacing grin as he took a single step towards me, his torn clothes billowing with the breeze that pulled at both of us, "You're a child. You don't know what you are doing. There are no cameras here," he gestured around us, his eyes scanning the area for the easiest way out, "So I won't kill you but retire you for good if you insist on being so foolish."
I forced myself to ignore the doubts that sprang to my mind, his poisonous words were not without affect.
"I am no child," I replied, forcing my voice to be steadier as I matched his unspoken challenge and took my own step towards him, "Not anymore. You are coming back with me or I am dragging your corpse with me back to the others."
He threw his head back in a laugh, "Ah, Faren," he sighed, tilting his head slightly as he took in my stance, "you always were so self-righteous and stupid," the grin was placed with a hint of regret, "which is a shame for such a good practice fighter. But that is practice. And this is real. No more holding back."
I remember the heat as anger spread across my face as I broke the stare. But I smashed it down, he was trying to make me careless, "You killed my father, so you are going to face justice. Either by our laws or by my knife. I will not let you go. Now. Make your choice."
Marcus laughed, once more, "I am not going back," he walked towards me, "and I am not going to lower my dignity by fighting you."
With each step, my childhood friend lowered my resolve. But I couldn't back down. Not now.
Marcus stared at me as he came close, nearly close enough to kiss me. I had dreamed of that possibility once, as a child. But all that I heard in my head was a quiet whisper that repeated one word. Murderer.
"Stand aside," he said softly, pleadingly.
I met his eyes again, as his hand brushed my long brown hair out of my eyes. The anguish in his blue gaze was almost overpowering. His hand brushed my cheek, "Come with me."
The first tear fell as I slipped my knife between his ribs to where his heart was, "I can't," I whispered as I twisted the blade, ensure that his death would be as quick as I could make it, "Not this time."
His eyes held mind as he pitched forward, as his legs crumpled. I lowered him to the ground as his blood stained my clothes, the shock of my actions starting to seep into my mind as his blood soaked the grass.
"I'm sorry," the words tumbled out of his mouth as he choked on his own pain, "I-I'm s-so. . . Sorry," the hand that brushed my cheek gripped my arm as he writhed in pain.
I could not say the words that would give him peace.
I could only cry as he died in the grass, killed by the very person who had once thought that she could fight alongside him.
When I brought him back, I was able to bury my father but the cost had been too much. I was given the role of being a warrior. Because the hands that had once grown food and aided people were now stained with blood. It was a permanent stain that no soap could ever remove. Even if the only others who saw the stain were other warriors, it was one I hated.
I could not turn back. I had killed. By law, I had made myself into a soldier and if I abandoned my post that I received by lot then I would be shot and killed.
While I had been in the right to avenge my father's death, I had done the one unforgivable action.
By taking a life, mine was forever forfeit.
This is not the beginning of my story and it is also not the end. It's merely somewhere to begin.
Author's note: Hi! Sorry I have been inactive. Had some stuff come up in my life, glad to be back! See you in the next chapter! More coming soon!
-Ink