Exiled | Rosékook

Chapter six

I slash the tip of my knife on the olmasimy's throat. The olmasimy does not stop me. He does not duel back, but I don't forbid it. He assumes I am confessing about reverence. But all I desire is to allow him to experience fierce cruel pain.

I keep sliding my knife on his flesh and bones, the noise clear and terrible in my ears. His throat slides open and his blood pours at my feet. Vital fluid of deep massive blood endure bleeding on the floor, making the air scent heavy with salt. I watch as the life of the olmasimy leaves his eyes. His vast moonlight eyes looking blindly at nothing. Their light leaves them, forming a blank midnight in them.

A horrible dreadful disappointment fills me; I murdered him too fast. I wanted him to feel more agony–I wanted him to suffer for his sins.

I form fists beside my ankles.

''You better close his eyes. People say he becomes a ghost if you don't.'' Someone says from behind me. For my mind is extremely fogged; I'm not able to process whose voice it is, but I can feel it deep and monstured with command, creeping its way into my spine.

I laugh bitterly, the sound unfamiliar to my ears.

I am alone now. I am not what I have been: a shy girl walking with the weight of all the hideous words people have thrown at me. I am a girl marching with her chin raised with a knife in her sleeve, earned well and filled with the dried blood of many victims.

''He deserved it.'' I mutter, shaking my head again and again.

I have ended a life.

''Many white-hearts say so after committing kills, you know?'' The person says, ''I was one, to begin with.'' Just now I recognize his deep rumbling voice;

Chanyeol.

''A white-heart.'' I muse, switching to nods. How does he know about them? I don't find the energy to even care in the slightest.

A new tear slowly slides down my cheek.

''I once was that.'' Chanyeol observes, smiling a sorrowful smile filled with longing.

Longing for what? I wonder.

I stand up from the soaked blooded floor and dare to look at the fallen olmasimy, his body limb and broken, his flesh exposed around his throat. I become aware of his blood on my white t-shirt, stinging into my skin. The scent is heavy with it, salty and metallic. I can't help feeling that I have sensed it many times before.

Who cares? A voice chimes, mocking me.

''The monster deserved it, no?'' I question, not sure whether I am asking Chanyeol or myself.

''He didn't fight back, did he?'' Chanyeol asks instead,

I shake my head.

''Then you already know the answer to that.'' he purrs.

I burst into tears, shaking all over. Killer killed my family. And I killed his messenger. A messenger that sure had friends or maybe a family to feed. Does that make me a monster too? Does that make me share the same cruelty?

I feel Chanyeol's muscled arms rope around me from behind, warm and chilly at the same time, but all the same comforting. Then he lifts me off my feet. I bury my face into his warm chest, breathing in the snowy and winter scent of him.

''Chanyeol.'' I plead, soaking his shirt with my tears.

''Hmm?''

''What do I do?'' I cry, my voice lower than a whisper.

''Nothing.'' He murmurs, ''Just breathe. In and out, in and out, in and out. . .''

And his voice becomes a melody trailing in my soul, drifting me into sleep.