Xuelei, Tears of Blood

Chapter 38 - Defeat

Xuelei hung around outside hoping MeiHua would open the door.

It stayed shut. And locked. He had heard her slam the dead bolt home earlier.

The locked door couldn't really keep him out if he wanted to get in. But what would he do once he forced his way in? She didn't want him inside. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to talk to him or even listen to him.

Xuelei was at a loss. What was he supposed to do to make things better?

He could hear voices inside. MeiHua's grandfather was trying to reason with her. Maybe he was on his side, Xuelei hoped ... or maybe he was telling her to keep the door shut.

He sighed. She needed time to come to terms with who he was and what he could do. She might have guessed before this that what he did in his own time was probably unpleasant, but never in her dreams did she ever imagine that he could kill so brutally in cold blood. She had just discovered a side of him she didn't know existed and she was horrified by it.

MeiHua was afraid of him.

It hurt.

Inside.

... where his heart was supposed to be.

But he didn't know what to do. How did one heal this invisible crushing pressure? There was no salve, potion or bandage he could put on it. There was no medicine he could swallow to lessen this horrible gnawing that was inside him.

Xuelei was devastated. This terrible feeling was new to him. He had never felt like this before. He was drowning in it.

He shook himself and looked around. Bodies littered the place. He got busy. Maybe doing something physical would take his mind off this impossible feeling, anything to distract his mind ... and heart.

He dragged each bloody corpse away to a spot far away from the cottage. He dug a deep hole, attacking the earth with a frenzy and buried the bodies in a mass grave. It was way past midnight when he returned to the cottage, tired, dirty and sweaty.

Flickering lights could be seen from beneath the door and cracks from the windows. The door was still firmly shut. He sighed and tried to repair the damaged the fight had caused.

The bright moon shone down upon the youth as he cleared away the debris and piled it in a corner. An old well provided water to wash some of the blood stains away. He worked quickly, efficiently, stopping every few minutes to glance at the door. He worked deep into the night, hoping that during that time, the door would open. It did not.

At last, he finished and looked around. He didn't know what else to do. He had run out of excuses to be there.

Xuelei took a deep calming breath. He would try to talk to her one last time, then he would leave if that was what she really wanted, he swore to himself.

He went to the door and knocked. All movement and noise ceased immediately in the cottage. Then, he heard whispering.

"MeiHua? MeiHua?" he called. "Please ... open the door. I need to talk to you."

He knocked again. He knew she was not asleep despite the late hour.

"Go away, WuMing," she said, her voice muffled by the door between them.

He touched his forehead against the rough wooden door. He felt totally defeated. There was nothing else he could say or do. She didn't want to talk to him, she didn't want to see him ... she didn't want him.

"I ... I'm going. I'll leave you alone if that is what you want."

He took the pheasant he had caught earlier and left it on her doorstep. It should not go to waste. She could cook it for herself and her grandfather. He didn't feel hungry, he didn't feel thirsty, he didn't feel anything except the crushing numbness in his chest.

He stumbled backwards almost falling. He waited for a moment longer, then chided himself for hoping. It's no use you fool, just go, it's what she wants, for you to go and never come back.

The Mistress was right, no one in their right mind would want to be friends with a killer like him. He should have never doubted the Mistress. Friends? What was he thinking? He had only been fooling himself all this time. No one could ever care for a despicable person like him, no one.

He lowered his head, then bowed to the front door holding up a fist palm salute.

"Goodbye, MeiHua. I hope one day you will be able to forgive me for who I am."

"I promise I will try to be a better man from now on."

"Please forgive me."

Xuelei mounted his horse and kicked it into a canter. He didn't look back or he would have seen MeiHua at the window, tears streaming down her face.

He rode throughout the night, not stopping, not resting until he reached his destination. When he got back home, Xuelei went straight to the training room. He practiced the saber until he fell exhausted to the ground, too tired to move. He stared at the floor in despair, his mind a mess.

Only then did he cover his face and let his tears fall without restraint.

He had always accepted who he was.

Now, he hated himself.

He was a killer, a loathsome assassin. Killing, that was all he did, that was all he knew. That was what he was, that was who he was.