The Epic Tale of Cregan

Chapter 9: The You I Love

Warning: This chapter contains themes of depression and suicide.

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Regan tends to Reela's wounds where he had set up his and Cree's sleeping bags beside the fire while Cree sits beside the gate of the camp on watch, cautiously keeping an eye out for any potential Latyrs who may have been gone while they took the camp. He keeps his attention away from Regan and Reela, just sitting and staring down at his knife as he flicks it around in idle boredom.

But the thoughts running through his head as he watches it spin around and around are far from being the result of boredom. Where they're coming from, exactly, is a question he's been struggling to answer. It would be easier if he had the emotions running with the thoughts in parallel, but he doesn't. As far as his heart is concerned, he's empty.

His eyes grow dry and heavy but he fights off sleep. He needs to stay vigilant in case of an attack, especially now that a child is involved in this mess. Regan is probably learning all about her right now, so maybe he can find out where she came from so they can take her home.

In his fatigued state, he barely acknowledges it as a set of tiny footsteps approaches him. He jumps as Reela taps his shoulder and he whips his attention to her, allowing himself to relax once he sees it's just her.

"What?" he asks flatly.

Reela smiles timidly and extends her hands out, holding an apple out to him.

He stares at it in question. "What's this for?"

"Regan said you haven't eaten today... He wanted me to give you this," she says. Her voice is still quiet, but now that she's calmed down she is much more confident in her speaking pattern. Even if she is still a bit timid but that might just be how she is.

Cree glares back at Regan to see that he's still sitting by the fire, finishing wrapping up a wound on his arm from the Latyrs. He sighs and looks away from both of them. "I'm not hungry. Save it for yourself so you can get your strength back," he mumbles. He feels his stomach growl but fights to suppress it.

Reela sighs and lowers her hands back to her sides. "Nope... here." She gently places the apple on the ground beside him and takes a small step back. "In case you do get hungry. Also... Regan says that you shouldn't stay up too late... He—"

"Are you just Regan's errand girl now?" He frowns.

"I don't... know what that means." Reela tilts her head innocently.

Cree sighs and looks down. "You two get some rest, I'm fine," he slightly snaps and keeps his eyes away from her.

Reela nods and starts backing away. "Okay... I will. And... thank you again for helping me. I bet you're a really nice person." She smiles and rushes back over to Regan. He helps her get situated and ready for bed, tucking her into Cree's sleeping bag that he let her use because he doubts he's going to get much sleep tonight.

As the night begins to grow silent with Regan and Reela asleep, Cree's mind begins to wander again. Thoughts of his knives and the things he's done with them. The lives they've taken, whether it be by his own hand or somebody else's doesn't matter. These knives have caused nothing but harm to everyone who clashes with them.

But as he thinks back to Sweeney, he knows that as much as he wants to believe that it's the weapon and not the person holding it, that isn't true. It doesn't matter what weapon he wields, be it gun or knife, he will always do what he was trained to do. Kill.

He killed all the people of this camp and the worst part is that he doesn't feel sorry for it. He doesn't feel anything when he thinks about the terror that man felt before he died. He doesn't care when he thinks about the fear in Regan's eyes when he watched it happen. And at this point, he doesn't even know if he wants to.