We Cannot Be

○● C H A P T E R 25 ●○

That night I woke up, the sedatives didn’t last too long. Well not as long as he hoped they would.

As I shifted in bed I heard the faint sound of crying. So I got up and made my way out of my room. Following the faint cries, I found a half-openee door at the end of the hallway. I slowly walked up to it, trying to not be seen or heard.

The door was only slightly, being the only main light source to the dimmed candle-lit room. The centre of the room seemed to have been embelished with what looked like old gravestones. As I let my eyes wonder over the rest of the room, I saw a familiar figure, Xzavier's.

There, he was silently sat, with a picture in his hand, as tears dropped down like hardened crystals from his eyes. He was simply sat motionless in deep thought. I don’t know why, but I felt the urge to hold him and reassure him with empty promises to make him feel better.

Deciding to take action on that thought, I approached him. Despite me not making a sound he almost instantly sensed my presence. “Get the fuck out.”

He managed to sternly whispered through the lump in his throat. I walked closer to him and said, “No, I won't. Not until I know you'll be okay.” I waited  a few seconds then uttered, “It'll be okay.” “It won't be okay, it won't fucking be okay.” He began to shout, then my eyes landed on a empty bottle. Wow, he’s drunk as well.

The stench of liquors only managed to linger in that atmosphere once I acknowledged that. I finally managed to close the space between us as I sat on the floor beside him. I held his cheek, and wiped his tears with my thumb.

I looked into his soulless eyes and began to wonder what the fucking I was doing. He had treated me horribly and I'd constantly swore to condemn him to the same fate yet here I am, wiping the tears of the man that could have killed me.

But truth be told, he comforted me when I was in my time of grief. The time where I just needed someone to hold me, for me to feel wanted. I snapped back into reality when he pushed my hands away.

I looked at him and then questioned, “What is this place?” “It’s the graves, of my dead familia.” I turned around and walked towards the graves, my eyes widened as I ran my fingers, over the engraved names.

“W-what happened to them?” I questioned. His eyes grew dark as he stood up and pushed me against the wall. “You-...you...” He seethed but didn’t dare to continue. Instead he turned away from me and said, "They were killed...” Then he went and sat against the wall, and I slowly followed.

“Amaya, you don’t know the pain, you don’t wake up every day knowing that even if you could redo life, you'd still be powerless to save them, to feel so helpless. You don’t know what it's like to put a fake face on when really, you are crumbling apart inside, with the only drive being to kill those who killed mine, make them feel what I felt.

But I fear I won't be able to kill the last person, because my feelings often overpower my thoughts. I don’t know was to do” He blurted.

Little did he know that I knew all too well of this familiar feeling eating from him on the inside out, but I decided to let it go, prioritising his mental health. He was out for blood and I knew there is more to this, however I knew it'd be insensitive to pry, so I'll leave that to due time. I held him and took and deep breath. “Xzaiver, you need to stop for now, okay? You need to go sleep. It’s gonna be okay.”

I had to continously repeat such a lie, knowing that nothing would in fact ever be okay, but maybe this form reassurance was all I could provide for him in this moment. I held him longer and then kissed him lightly on the forehead, letting him all asleep.

I looked around once more, and shivered when my eye laid upon the gravestones once more. I turned back to him to try and pretend they aren't there. Damn, he really was fucked up. But aren’t we all.. well I for one most certainly am.

I looked down at him one last time and wondered, what the fuck is really going on?