It is not what it looks like

Alone

'Oh, it was fun.' Anjali grins widely while squeezing out her wet locks. I nod, heading towards the dinning room. Apparently, we used a short cut and arrived earlier than expected. As we step through the door, hinges creak in protest as we pull it open. I'm just about to say something when I'm suddenly rendered speechless. Everybody is seated at the table having supper. Well, except for Anjali and I. I also notice an extra chair that's occupied by a new girl I haven't seen before.
"Maddy!"
The new girl suddenly stands up, walks towards me with a bright smile. She squeezes me into a back-breaking hug, cooing like she's talking to a crying child.
"God, I have missed you! I'm so happy you are back. The last time I saw you was back when you were months old."

She squeezes me even tighter in her embrace before letting me go. For some reason, I find it funny because she doesn't look very old herself. Maybe she is a few years older than me.

"She is Amanda and she is your cousin." My mum says as she pulls out a chair for me.
The food is served, a native and common dish which comprises of ugali, (saga) vegetables, beef, milk or they call it (Maziwa mala).

It all ends well, but I realise Anjali and Amanda aren't best of friends. They always argue when they are together.
As I go to sleep tonight, my heightened attentiveness notices nothing unusual and no suspicious creaks outside my door.
Being the head of the department of labor, Anjali has to get up early and go to work. That means I'll be doing my morning routine alone. I carry my sword with me and head out, running into the grassy, oak spattered countryside. Going deeper, I marvel at the beauty of the city as it passes beside me, from the humble tenements of the Green District in the East to the gleaming white stone monuments and lush green gardens in Comba District to the West. The crisp taste of rain is unmistakable as I breath in the chilly morning air.
Once my legs are sufficiently exhausted from running, I slow down to a leisurely walk through the dormant sea of green grass that blankets the hills, until I find a large and relatively flat outcropping of rock.

I pull out my sword from its sheath, holding it straight infront of me. A slight twist of the sword to the right sends a spark of sunlight glinting down the straight edge of the blade.
For a better part of an hour, I swing my sword through the strict routine Manuh has burned into my memory.
I can see Manuh telling me. Hold the blade above your head. Keep your eyes on focus. Do not bend your knees.
The longer I continue, the more my focus narrows and Manuh's image becomes a ghost. The effort makes my body hurt in a satisfactory way.

Months ago I could never have believed that I'd ever hold a sword so dearly as if my life depended on it. Id laugh it off if you told me I'd be staying at a palace with my father.
I unbackle the sheath from my back and slip the blade in, then set it down. I feel relieved of the weight, I take a seat with my back against a smooth boulder that looks comfy enough considering my situation.
My eyes trail to the green city in the horizon, vacillating between images of sun-drenched streets and moonlit alleys. Lankaya strikes as a really beautiful place.

Suddenly, a loose pebble bounces down the top of the rock that I'm leaning to and falls on my shoulder. Tired, I glance up idly. A man looks down at me from his perch on the boulder.  Adrenaline jolts through every muscle in my body composing me to move away without even thinking. As I lunge sideways, I hear his weight drop to where I was before.
Surprisingly, he has a dagger on his right hand and it had been pointed on me!

As if in a trance, I lift my leg directly sideways to where he is standing, aiming at my assailant's sword, I extend my leg out, keeping my other foot flexed and I kick through my target with my heel successfully. His dagger falls down into a nearby hole. However, it's hilt is still facing up.
My assailant puts his hands around my throat, in an attempt to choke me.
In my defense, I clasp my hands together, spread my elbows and drive my hands up against the aggressor's arm, forcing them free. This is proceeded by a knee lift to his groin which instantly forces the assailant to the ground in pain. Kicking again seems unnecessary because he stays still and unmoving on the ground. Then the copper smell of blood hits my nostrils. Shit' he must have fallen directly on his dagger. His own blade cuts deep through his torso. Fresh blood spurts across the green grass.

Adrenaline twitches my muscles naturally. Right now, it's very useful. I let it take over, feeling my legs start moving as my mind diverts to the more meticulous task of getting home without getting killed by whoever sent that man to kill me.

The agony that I feel is massive and it's eating me up. I just killed a man who intended to kill me. It was a game of death or survival and I chose the later. I can't really blame myself. The reassurance I give myself is that I didn't kill him. His death was an accident. I was only defending myself.

When I arrive home, the first person who approachs me is Anjali. Worry feigned in her features.
"What happened to you Mady. You look tense." She says taking me into her arms where I start sobbing.
"H- he wanted to kill me but he's death. I didn't kill him. I swear."

"S-sh it's okay. Let's get in and you'll tell me what happened." Anjali seats me on a couch where I notice Manuh and Amanda are present. All of them anxiously waiting for whatever I have to say.
After narrating the whole ordeal, Manuh, who has never shown any interest in me becomes furious. He stands up, paces around then goes out. I'm guessing to inform the guards to get the body and investigate the case.

Anjali and Amanda begin arguing but I let their voices drown into whispers as my mind starts playing tricks on me. Accusing me of killing him.
Have I really become a murderer?