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The moments after Father returned passed all too quickly. It seemed as though he had just sat on the bed beside me when the door opened once more. Our king stepped into the room, jaw set in a hard grimace. His arms were crossed, and I found myself withering under his stare. 

"Leave us," said our king. Mother rested her hand on my arm, and she opened her mouth. She closed it when the king's stare moved to her. "Now." The tone in his voice left no argument. "I will not allow anything to happen to him."

I wanted him to. I wanted him to leave me alone and let me end the nightmare I was living. But, it would not happen. I looked at my hands. Small beads of crimson welled from the nail-beds, tiny as the point of a needle. And under my nails was the reddish-brown of dried blood. At least it was not fresh. If it was fresh, my mind would have been plagued. I would have heard all of the screams, all of the too hoarse pleading. Then I- Then I would hear the praise. Bile scorched the back of my throat, and the nausea coiled in my stomach. I wanted to throw up. 

Mother's hand slipped from my arm. I wanted her to stay. I could not force the words out to get her to though, and as such I watched as she and Father slipped out the door. After it had shut behind them, I stared. The door was not going to open again, not until this was over with. 

My king's hands pressed on my shoulders. I startled and tried to pull away. My chest heaved. My heart thumped in rapid beats as I attempted to throw myself back. I could not. I couldn't. His grip- his grip was too tight. 

"Kaldur, in four," said my king. He inhaled, rather obviously. Again and again he repeated the action, until I realized he wanted me to imitate him. The third time he inhaled, I finally copied him, choking in a stuttered breath. It hurt. Why did it hurt? Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes as I held the breath. "Out four." 

As my breathing settled, he sighed. He sat beside me, and the bed creaked with the added weight. If only I had the same courage to break the silence. I could convince him of something. Maybe not that I was not attempting to kill myself, Father would never lie to him on something so serious, but there were other options at my disposal. 

"I do not know where to begin with this," he said.

"I-"

"Quiet." His eyes focused on me once again, waiting for me to acknowledge the order. I swallowed and nodded. He scowled. "I know what you are going to say, and I do not want to hear it. No amount of excuses will make up for this, Kaldur'ahm." Orin paused. His hands trembled. "I told you to talk to somebody. I- I had you moved so we could make sure you did not get worse." Something desperate hung in his tone, in his wavering voice. "There is nothing you can say that justifies your actions today. You tried to kill yourself twice. Three times if I am to take the events leading up to this into account."

I could not fault him for being upset. Had I succeeded, I would have been avoiding trial, avoiding whatever justice he would prescribe. He has every right to- 

The door opened, snapping me from that thought. I flinched, pressing myself into my king's side. I should not have. He tensed and refused to look at me, even as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Canary."

"Can I come in?" she asked.

"I do not want to stress him further," said Orin, "But it may be best to get it over with." The solid hand on my shoulder tightened. It was meant to be in reassurance, yet I found myself shrinking in on myself.  I wrapped my hand tight around my wrist, the pain of my nails doing little. His eyes scanned over me, I could feel the icy stare, the anger, and then he sighed. "You know where to find me if you wish to speak with me." And with that, he left me alone with Black Canary.

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