Sometimes I see her. Sometimes I see that sweet angel. And sometimes I don't. But occasionally, on one of my missions in the Pronteran capital, I see the girl sitting by her window, writing and reading. Those days I always think, 'Why have I chosen this?'.
However, tonight I did not see her. I did not see that young girl who haunts my dreams, as if a message from the gods that I should stop my mission and seek her out. I was tearing my heart apart metaphorically, for I was battling my instincts on this mission. Finally, after contemplating everything about the past week's events, I jumped from the roof towards the cobbled road without a sound. I stole through the alleyways, a dark rift in the shadows. As I reached the window in the Sanctuary, I could see her, a frail little girl resting in the bed. I knew then, after seeing the many doctors and priests, that something was wrong. As the others left, I saw the little girl's eyes flutter open, and look directly towards me at the window.
She smiled at me. She smiled at me like she had known me all her life, and we had just met on the market streets. I quietly opened the window, and slipped through the sill. I landed with a quiet 'pat' on the wooden floor, and strode towards her bedside. As I neared, I could see the sweat marring her fair skin. As I crouched by the brass bed, she only smiled further.
"You've come to kill me, have you?" She did not ask. I was stunned for a short while, but in short came back to my senses. As she stared up at me, her smile faltered only the slightest.
"Please, wait half a year. After then, if you must, you may take my life." She pleaded with me, her voice quivered with her raw will to live. I stared into her longing eyes, and I understood. I nodded my head, and disappeared from her view.
I knew then, that she was carrying a child.
As I reached the hidden temple of the assassins, I took a deep breath through the muffler I was wearing. The howling sands around me whipped my clothing about, and stung my eyes. But all this could not compare to the raw fear I felt in my gut, clenched towards breaking point.
As I strode past the sandman guards, I nodded towards one of the assassins I had worked with, casually staring off towards Morocc, as if the sandstorm wasn't happening.
I stepped onto the weathered stone of the ancient temple entrance, and shook the sand coating my entire body. As I pulled the muffler off my mouth, I was immediately taken to the Fuehrer and shoved into the dark chamber.
"So.. the girl's soul has not been taken to Hel?" The cold, and frighteningly calm voice came from the darkness.
"No, my Lord." I couldn't control the fear seeping into my words. The Fuehrer was the most feared man in the world to assassins, and the populace outside, was oblivious to his power. The Fuehrer could easily take over the country alone, but for an unknown reason, had not. However, he tended to unleash his wrath upon any orders he had given being contradicted. And I had done just that.
"And tell me… why has she not died?" I could almost picture his slow, feline smile in the darkness, a sadistic gleam in his coal black eyes.
"Because… I felt at this time it would be bad to kill her." I calmed my voice, and relaxed my thoughts. "In the near futures, I predict she will die of an illness. This illness will be a poison I will inject into her system, and it will leave no traces. In roughly six months, she is expecting a child. And if I poison her system beforehand, at least three hours before her labor begins, it wall appear that she died at childbirth." I ended my speech, and stood straight.
"Well.. it seem the boy has grown up." A dark chuckle echoed throughout the chamber, and I felt the sweat on my neck slowly drip into my shirt. "However, you still did not inform me of this. A week in the Penalty Chamber." He dismissed me, and I felt the fear inside my gut explode, and the tiny shards rip my body apart. The Penalty Chamber was a five by three foot stone box outside in the desert, and it can get hot enough to reach one hundred degrees inside. It was the one thing I feared more than the Fuehrer.
As I was led outside and to the Chamber, I was roughly shoved into the box and the door was locked. As I curled into the most comfortable position possible, I could nearly feel the skin melt off me as the air burned my lungs.
This was going to be a long day.
Hot.
The word kept repeating itself in my head, as I felt the skin touching the walls of the box start to redden. The stone felt like fire, and I couldn't move an inch without it intensifying. Four hours past.
I don't think I can last a week.
Eight hours.
I think I'm starting to go a little insane. I keep thinking of her, though I know in half a year I'll kill her. I really hope I die in here.
Twelve hours.
I believe I've gone insane.
In six days, I'll be able to leave this box. If it isn't the burning heat of the day, it's the freezing cold of the night. It feels below zero in here, but it is little better then the heat.
As the seventh morning sun rose, I felt my body stir from it's comatose state. The sun hit the box, but no light broke the stone. I felt the lock of the door swivel, and the light suddenly broke through as the door was open, and my eyes quickly burned at the sudden light. As I stared ahead, the silhouette of the guard came into view.
"Week's past. Go." He dragged me out and barked, and, seeing as I wasn't moving, dragged me through the cold sand and into the temple. As he dropped me into the dark chamber, the Fuehrer let out a small breath.
"So, have you retained your sanity?" I kept quiet. I knew if I spoke, he would lock me away again. From the breath earlier, I knew he was angry at something. So, after a few minutes of silence, he called the guard to take me to my chamber.
As I walked through the door of my home, I dropped to my knees and let out a breath. It felt as if a thousand weights had been lifted from me to leave the Fuehrer's chamber.
I quickly went to clean up, the sweat literally pooling around me with my clothes. I needed water, food, and a shower.
Six months drifted like a water lily across the surface of a pond. Before I had realized, I had brought the poison to the window of the girl, barely three hours before her expected child's birth. As I snuck into the room, she smiled at me again, though her smile was much weaker.
"Six months have passed, and it is time." I muttered, my voice like crimson silk in the wind after the death of a nation. I carefully stole the last few steps from her, and brought out the tiny blade coated with the poison.
"Please, take care of my baby." As I lightly broke the skin of her inner elbow and reached her vein, I brought down my mask and kissed her on the lips, the reaper's kiss. I waited with her for over twelve minutes, before unconsciousness took her away. She would be awake in less than two and a half hours. And after the birth of her child, she would die.
The time seemed to evaporate like the rain in the summer's heat. Soon, I could hear her screams coming from the small, white room she had lived in. The screams wrenched at my heart, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing her. As her screams quieted, and the cries of a baby could be heard, I brought out my knife and put it to my wrist.
"Take care of my baby." I stilled. The plea reverberated through my head, and I sheathed my blade. As the people inside muttered amongst themselves, they left the hall.
I climbed back into the window, and took my first look at the child, sleeping in a blanket next to the cold, peaceful girl. It was a boy. I took a quill and parchment out of a desk. As I inked the quill, I scribbled a quick note.
This boy's name shall be Sheep, for his mother shall forever be sleeping. He is one of these sheep that lets her rest in eternal slumber.
I left the note next to the baby, kissing him on the forehead. I gave a long kiss on the lips of the girl, and quickly leapt out the window, blending into the crowd without a second glance back at the window where my love and her child lay quietly.
Angel, died seventeen years.
I hope you like it, 'cause I do. Anyway, R&R please, as reviews are the blood of my fingers. Hope to get another chapter done tomorrow or the next day.
Fuehrer – The Leader, Hitler was called this.
Death of a nation – The only sound is the soft whip of a flag in the completely serene quiet of nothing moving.
