Felling depressed. Enjoy… or rather, don't.
A Miracle, A Horror
I remember when I found out what had happened.
My Valkyrie. A vampire. I hadn't found out until a month after it happened.
Not my fault. Not my fault. She was in Paris – what was I supposed to do? Stalk her?
That is what I tell myself, but it is not what I truly believe.
And then, a few days later, I saw her again. A miracle, a horror.
She was in Dusk's army. She was the last one – I killed the others first, hoping, hoping, that she would disappear, or become herself, or something.
But then she started ripping off her skin, and I knew what I had to do.
She walked through bullets and haze
You could barely make out her shape, but I knew it was her.
I asked her to stop I begged her to stay
Again and again, I begged, I pleaded.
But she pressed on, so I lifted my gun
What could I do?
And I fired away
The shells jumped through the smoke and into the sand
Everything in slow motion.
That the blood now had soaked
Her blood, everywhere. My mind and my reality. Then, and for the rest of time.
She collapsed
I can still see her falling… that last look she gave me, it was not that of a vampire. For the last time, she smiled. Thank you, she mouthed. And so, she died.
A hero of war, is that what they see?
Just medals and scars, so damn proud of me.
Maybe I did wrong in my life, maybe I deserve this suffering, this guilt over having killed my fiancée.
But Valkyrie did not deserve to die.
