❝ 𝐘𝐀'𝐀𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐄
- arabic term meaning 'you bury me,' a declaration of one's hope that they'll die before another person because of how difficult it would be to live without them. ❞
⤷ in which an ex assassin meets a thief orphan who's skil...
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CHAPTER TEN ✔️
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PERCY WAS BACK UNDER that all-too-familiar, chilling bed. Her ribs were uncomfortably pressed against the dusty floorboards, elbows screaming in pain from being held in the same position for so long. Her breathing was shallow, ragged. She gasped when the door facing the bedding opened with an eerily long creak, too long to make her anxiety calm even a bit.
It was disturbing, the sight before her. She watched his bony feet shuffle across the floor as she brought her hands to cover her mouth. Her cheeks were wet with tears—when had she started crying? It didn't matter, now. She focused on quieting her whimpers of fear and the rise and fall of her back.
Her fright instilled itself deep within her belly, the overwhelming presence of the devil just in front of her. He stopped at the foot of the bed, and the room went quiet, save for the rapid breathing of Percy.
It wasn't until she felt the bed above her creak—as if someone were supporting their weight on it—that she realized she was done for. She allowed her sobs to escape her as brown tufts of hair peeked under the bed, followed by starved arms violently tearing her from her hiding place.
And then she woke up.
She was hyperventilating, grabbing onto the closest thing to ground herself—that being her new blue-eyed friend's sleeve. Percy hissed, letting go and instead opting for running her hands up and down her arms. It was too late, though, Killua's white tresses swayed along with his head and he turned to sleepily look at her.
How selfish she was to wake him, he must be exhausted from the prior events with the phases, as well as Netero—who appeared from thin air challenging them to a duel. They didn't win.
The girl was embarrassed for a boy she barely knew to see her in such a state, but she just tried to focus on deepening her breath and calming her racing heart.
"Percy?" His voice was crisp, raspy, and brought her somewhat amount of comfort. She needed to hear something familiar—something she knew she was safe around—to help her ease back to herself. "Are you okay? You grabbed me."
"I'm sorry." She blurted, squeezing her own sleeves, fingers tracing her knives through the fabric. He reached to touch her, but she strayed away from his hand, glaring at it as if it offended her. He frowned. "I'm sorry- I have to go." Percy shot up from where she was previously sleeping—a room with blankets and pillows, offered generously by the hunter exam committee. She stepped through the maze of sleeping bodies with ease, slipping through the door.
