Saving Me (A SHATTER ME FANFIC)

I N S O U C I A N C E

Trigger Warning ⚠️

ANGER HINDERS A PERSON FROM thinking clearly. I have enough years on my back to know hatred, resentment, loathing are feelings that blind our rationality and harm us more than the person we direct these sentiments towards. They cut us deep, leaving us with wounds we cannot reach, cannot heal. We bleed with hate and it sets every loving emotion ablaze, leaving nothing but ash and bitter resentment.

But I also believe in monsters.

I believe in people coming from the highest of places to have the darkest of pasts. Disgusting, abhorrent pasts. Actions unspeakable in company, are something we all carry. Somethings we'd rather not say we did in our lives. Somethings we'd rather not say we are.

It makes us hypocrites when we point faults in others when we have shady pasts of our own.

It makes me a hypocrite.

But I'm going to kill him anyway.

My leg bobs with each tap to my compartment floor. I clench and unclench my fists, contemplating the consequences of what I will be doing. And yet I'm not thinking about them at all.

The space feels smaller than it did when I woke up in it earlier that morning. I was a happy, satisfied girl then. Now I'm on a mission. If more blood on my hands is what it'll cost me, I'll gladly pay the price.

A single bed and a drawer side-table on its left, covered with small things of mine. They had shifted all my belongings here on orders from Juliette (Who I requested for a transfer in the first place). I know it's an adequate amount of space to live in, but all I feel is claustrophobia jerking up my mind.

And a plan brewing in my skull.

Juliette had told me that guards were not supposed to patrol around in this (East) Wing of the main building, where soldiers were stationed. The solider were more than enough to take down any intruders themselves. Nor were the guards given duty in the West Wing, where Higher Officials and Commanding Officers would be staying.

Where he would be staying.

How convenient for me, especially since all of them will be going out for Insouciance tonight. And I'll get a clean chance to get in their quarters, a chance to get into his room.

When they all would come back after midnight, I'll be waiting with a gun trailed at his head. The thing he uses as a weapon as much as I use my skin.

A small window is at one side of the room, blinds shut so I don't have to see the Moon or let any Moonlight escape into my sanctuary.

I prefer darkness over it.

A Selenophile is a person who loves the Moon. A person who thinks it to be beautiful and aesthetically pleasing. Calm. Peaceful.

People like my sister, love it ... adore it.

And I loathe it.

It was on full Moons that he usually came slinking through the window all those years ago. The lights of the house would be off; the Moonlight coming from my window, the only source of illumination in my little room. It filled me with dread and bile would surface to my throat at the sight of it.

It meant he would be coming for a visit.

It started when I was a little more than eight years old. I shouldn't be able to remember things from that age of my life, but there is nothing

I
can
forget.