Infatuation of a Merman

Chapter 8-Promised

Ice curled around my neck, gently squeezing my airway.

"I could kill you, here and now."

The voice caressed my ears like a soft melody. The sounds didn't hurt for once, which caused me to smile.

"It would be so easy, you know."

No, a sound this beautiful could never be easy to create. I was tempted to open my eyes to see what creature produced this lovely sound. But then this comfy trance would be shattered, and I was tired, so tired.

The pressure killing my neck gradually faded like melting snowflakes.

Then came the nightmare.

There was growling, the hissing of blades, and blood, so much blood. I tried running, but the sounds kept following me. Chaos flourished on the land I thought I left behind, staying by my side like a loyal but disillusioned dog.

She was smiling, red tears leaking from her blue eyes. She looked at me instead of the multiple knives embedded in her corpse. I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Thin fingers grappled for my limbs. So I kept running, trying to escape from the darkness. Then one of the cold hands touched my skin.

I woke up.

Sweat clung to my body while blankets oppressed me in a cocoon of heat. My breath came in heavy pants as my heart banged against my chest. Much to my confusion, I was in my room. Walls surrounded me on all four sides while someone occupied a corner of the room.

Kiraize was leisurely leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed while he looked down at me with an expression I couldn't recognize. Then I remembered.

I twisted my body around, causing the blankets around me to clamp down. I ripped my hands away from the imprisoning cloth. My fingers latched onto the handle of my bedside table, throwing the drawer open before fumbling around with its contents. The second I felt the rough yet smooth surface, I clutched onto the paper and gradually brought it out.

It was the slave right.

Feelings clashed, clawing at each other while I stared at the source of my anguish.

I didn't deserve this.

My free hand moved to the other end of the paper. Slowly, I started to pull the paper apart. Would history repeat itself if I kept this paper? Would the guilt of the past disappear if this right went up in flames? Kiraize looked at me. His expression was a blank mask, as if he didn't care about what I did. I stopped.

Tears blurred my vision, covering my sight in a blurry sheen. I curled up into a fetal position as if by rejecting the real world, the lingering pain of my dreams would go away. I hugged myself in some vain wish to feel comforted.

A hand touched my shoulder, cold like the ones in my nightmare had been. I flinched away from it. My eyes widened as I looked up to see what I thought would be the manifestation of a nightmare. But then I saw that it was just Kiraize.

He was staring down at his unmoving hand, the one that had touched my shoulder. His arctic blue eyes met my gaze, and for a moment it felt as though I were staring at a mirror; the pain in his eyes reflected what I saw in myself. But then his gaze turned blank, wiped of any significance. One side of his mouth lifted into that half-smile, sending a cold shiver down my back.

His gaze flickered to the slave right in my hands before he turned away, returning to the corner of the room.

I stared down at the paper in my hands. What was I thinking? I returned the paper to its drawer, uncomfortably aware of Kiraize monitoring my every move.