Chapter Three – Fear, Rage, and Realization
Rose nodded at me and she reached out and squeezed my shoulder, "Come on, sweetie, you'll be back before you know it."
I nodded, smiling, then I saw Sparrow's smile fade, "Hey, Sy, you missed one."
"Huh?" I started to turn but the brunette man with vacant eyes had me around the waist.
I brought my elbow around and caught the side of his head, he let go of me but he'd knocked me away from Sparrow and Rose. Rose was stunned. We were on the ground now and I rolled back onto my back, bringing my feet up and pushing myself with my forearms and pushing out with my feet, throwing him backward farther than any human could do. His breath was gone and he had to scramble a moment to gain his footing again but I was already on my feet and angrier than before.
He searched my face for a moment, something unsettling in his gaze. I let him gain his ground and approach me in a slow pace. When he was just a foot or so in front of me he stopped and was staring at me.
"You're prettier than I remember, Thorn." He murmured.
My skin crawled, "Shut the fuck up, creepy bastard."
"My father is alive and well, thanks," He laughed eerily.
I lunged, sick of joking, sick of his staring. Pushing forward with my legs I flew at his face with fists clenched and teeth barred. The first time I struck him I hit just above his lip and his nose exploded in blood and I could feel its warmth on my fist. I brought my hand back again and let it fly once more, shattering the gaze he still held me with, making him flinch and cry out as I hit his left eye.
"Little baby, gonna cry for daddy," I mocked, loathing throbbing in my head.
Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, just kill him!
I brought my fist back up before letting it fly again, holding his head against the lunchroom floor with my left hand, his hair tangled around my fingers, and my right hand destroying his face. His lip was bleeding and his hands were clawing at my right forearm trying to get me to release him.
"Just let me go, please just let me go," He whined, sobbing, "I didn't want to, Sy, I didn't want to. I love you. I love you."
I was blinded with rage. Seven fucking years. Seven fucking years….
I kept hitting him just over and over and over until I was shaking from exertion and the blood on my fist was overpowering. I could smell him bleeding and he was crying for a moment longer after I stopped hitting him. I pulled away from him, leaning back on my haunches and watching him stare at me and cry until his eyes rolled back to reveal the white and the veins and his lids closed.
For a moment I thought I'd kill him but his chest swelled with another breath and I was disappointed.
"Sy!" Cantus cried, "Leave him! Now!"
I stood and watched him bleed a second longer, his blood dripping off of my unraveled fingertips onto the floor. I raised my bloody hand to my lips and licked the blood off of my index finger. The sourness of his blood disgusted me though and I spat it onto the floor beside him. Then I took a single step back and gave him a hard kick in the ribcage before hissing my last words to him and rejoining Rose and Sparrow in the center of the room.
"You had a fucking choice. Everyone has a choice. You were just too selfish to do what was right." I growled down at him.
When I reached Sparrow's side he took my hand in his and pulled a black satin cloth strip out of his pocket and wiped the blood off of my hand then did the same to my opposite forearm. I was raging and I looked up at the balcony where Cantus stood.
"Can I kill him?" I asked, my teeth clenched, "That's the man that damned me to this hell where the only mercies here only had me as their mercy."
Cantus smiled slightly, "He is not one of our kind, he was never on the council, and he's certain done you wrong, my sweet. So of course you may kill him. Just wake him up and arm him first."
A grim smile took over my face; my lips sliding back to show my teeth, "I have permission to kill him?"
"Yes."
Sparrow grabbed my wrist before I turned and sprinted back to his body, "Wait, Sy, this is yours."
He pulled a mask from his trench coat pocket. The face the skull of an owl with the eyes filled with bone paste so that the slits fit my eyes perfectly. And there were three feathers on the side, tied to the strap that held the mask on, a raven's feather, a Sparrow's feather, and a owl's feather. The ribbon was a vibrant red and was so long it nearly touched the back of my calves. Sparrow stepped forward and tied the mask around my eyes and I grinned a horrible malicious grin. Then he pulled my favorite weapon out of his back pants pocket. A leather glove that went up to my elbow and laced to keep it on, but the fingers of the glove were tipped with sharp talons, cut from the feet of my favorite bird of prey, the eagle. I slid the glove onto my left hand and tested the sharp edge against my right forearm, drawing a short line of blood.
Then I snapped around, to face my prey, which was just starting to gain consciousness. I started forward, one step at a time, plotting, wondering how I was going to drag his death out nice and slow. So slow…
He turned and faced me, his eyes so deadly blue but so empty. He drew his knife and he looked anguished.
"Don't make me kill you, Sy." He murmured.
I snorted and growled, "Bring it pretty boy."
I lunged forward, my toes the only thing touching the ground as I slid forward like a skater on ice. Shade at my feet, making my shadow dance. I had his face in my left hand and my talons digging into his flesh, he slashed my face and neck with his dagger but the wound was sealed before he could bring the blade back across again. I hit him once across the face, knocking his head to the side. I heard bones in his neck crunch.
I growled and pushed him away from me he spun me and pressed me against the wall. I skittered up the wall until my feet touched the banister of the staircase that led into the lunchroom. His eyes dilated and he reeked of fear. I was grinning maliciously and decided that I was strong enough, or protected enough to slip full form and braced myself with my talons clasp around the metal pipe that topped the brick wall. My back arched outward and my shirt and jacket ripped through as the bones started moving.
God, it hurt. It was so excruciating the only words I can think to describe the level of pain are 'Child birth'. The bones peaked the skin and the frame of the wing base started healing with skin stretching across the thick bones that had been lying next to my spine inside my back. Then from there the feathers started to grow and peak the new flesh so that in a matter of minutes the black fallen wings on my back had materialized.
I stretched them out, rolling my shoulders and popping my neck. His fear peaked and his eyes were huge. I folded my wings in around me, the feathers hiding my grin but still exposing my rage filled, blood lusting eyes. Before I hit the floor I flung my wings out to my side and had my talons around his throat and was taking him up to the ceiling I switched hands, wrapping my bare fingers around his neck and holding him out while I dug my talons into the tiles on the ceiling.
He slashed at my arm again with his knife.
"Don't want me to drop you, do you?" I asked softly, "No, no, you're not going to die as slowly as you want."
After a second I realized people on the floor were shrieking in fear. I didn't care. I tightened my grip on the man's throat for a moment then dropped him.
I watched him fall but I was falling to, my wings encasing my body and I plummeted towards the floor after him. Then I snatched him and took flight again. He was sobbing and scared but he wasn't fighting. So I dropped him the rest of the way to the floor.
"Come on, you creep, fight me," I shouted, "Fucking fight me!"
"Can't," He murmured, "Can't. Can't."
I lunged forward, sick of playing with him. I had his wrist, squeezing it in my fist until my talons cut his flesh and his fingers released his knife. Then I dropped his hand and he stood there, cowering in front of me. He was taller than me but I was stronger.
"Why do you cower from me? You're slime. I tried to help you. I tried to help, you dumb asshole. I was so nice to you. I made the others leave you alone. I made all the others swear they'd never touch you again but then you pulled your shit. You pulled your shit and now I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you. I am going to fucking kill you. You made me suffer. I was good to you. I was so good to you. I was your friend. Then you started fucking with me. Then you brought him to us. You led him to us. You led him to us and he tried to kill us. I thought he did. I thought he fucking killed my best friend for seven fucking years. I thought he was dead, my best friend. You made them take me back to the house I hate. The house where I was always miserable is where you sent me. Look at me when I speak to you, you dirty piece of shit, I'll kill you right fucking now, look at me." I growled as he looked down at the floor, "I'm going to make you as miserable as I was while you're living the high life with the fucking king of blood traitors!"
I lunged again slinging him backward into the floor, cracking his head against the floor. He stood and scrambled to the right, trying to get back to the staircase. I got his ankle and ripped him back shoving my fist into his face and digging my talons into his leg.
He cried out again, "Just let me live!"
I scoffed, "Live your miserable little life!"
I had my fist in his hair and slammed his head against the tiled floor. He coughed and his eyes were phasing out. I screamed at him again and slapped him across the face, making his eyes open wide and his fear to return.
"You're not passing out again!" I screamed, "You'll suffer this and I'll watch you bleed! I want to see the soul leave your eyes! I want to watch your thinking die!"
He flinched at my words, my face inches in front of his. I snatched the front of his shirt, stained with his blood and ripping where my talons tore the cloth. I plucked him from the floor. I slung him, my rage fueling my power, my eyes bloodshot with adrenaline and my heart beat pounding in my ears. My fists were clenched and my right fist was bloodied and the bone was showing on my third knuckle but I felt no pain. My mask, my precious mask, was splattered with the blood from his face.
He hit the farthest wall to the left and shouted with the pain of hitting the bricks. I spread my wings, feathers of raven black flying out of the rotten flesh of the demon I was. My eyes dilated and I felt the prong tail that was on the outer ring of my pupil* gash through my iris as I took in more light and everything was more focused than normal. I was on fucking rage cocaine.
I started walking towards him, perfectly intent on killing him slowly. I felt every eye in the room on my back. I leaned my head forward so that I could see him on the floor in front of me over the lip of the eye slits in my mask. He was cowering from me, sniveling in fear and anguish.
"Please," He begged, "Please don't kill me."
"Shush," I ordered, my voice soft, almost whispering in the noiseless room, "You deserve to die. I was your friend. You betrayed me. I'll look you in the eyes when I rip your soul out. You did it behind my back. Stab me again; I dare you, just look me in the eyes. Just look me in the fucking eyes." I growled at him.
I knelt next to him taking his shoulder with my right hand and holding him against the wall, "Don't whine anymore, bright eyes, don't whine anymore."
He had his eyes squeezed close, tears gushing down his face, the light reflecting off of the nervous sweat and blood on his face, "Open your eyes," I ordered.
He opened his eyes, so scarred, so scarred were his haunting blue eyes. I grinned, taking pride in repaying him for what he'd done. I'd treated him nicely in childhood, made the other children leave him alone and stop picking on him, been his friend, brought him food when he had none, confided in him, let him confide in me, but he betrayed me and led the one man who wanted to kill me to me. That was a betrayal I couldn't get over. He'd saved himself and ruined my life, my happy carefree life, just to save his miserable little life; even after he'd told me he was suicidal he'd rather life than save a friend, his only friend.
I smiled, "Who do you love, Michel?" I asked softly, malice in my eyes, "Say goodbye to the only real friend you ever had. I hope it was worth it."
He whimpered, "I'm sorry."
"Scared?" I asked, just wanting to verify he was as frightened as I had been for years, so many years.
He nodded, his eyes locked on mine.
I slit his shirt, just under his ribcage and ran the cold eagle claws under his shirt. He flinched a thousand times in a row at the cold touch of Death's hand. My lips were dry with bloodlust and I could hear his heart pounding. I let my hand rest over his shriveled black heart, feeling it pound with fear, wanting to leap from his chest. The cold leather was the last thing he'd feel. The look in my eyes would be the last thing he saw.
"I hate you." Would be the last thing he heard.
"I love you." Would be the last thing he said.
I pushed the talons into his chest with a force enough to break the ends of his uppermost ribs and stab them into his heart and lungs, his eyes bulging from his head and blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth and nose. He exhaled his last breath. I could smell his fear dying with his body. My hand pushed deeper into his chest, my fingers locking around the heart in his chest that was mutilated with the ends of five different ribs.
That was the end of Michel Tomas's life. The blood on my glove repulsed me and I sat by his side watching the blood pour from the hole in his chest where I'd withdrawn my hand. My hand was covered, the glove as well, there was no sign of color besides the dark scarlet.
His eyes were vacant, truly unseeing now. But there was something I realized at that moment, staring into his eyes.
Poor Michel, he'd been living all this time, but by looking in his eyes, I should've realized before. He was already dead. I didn't have to kill him. He was already dead. Poor Michel, poor Michel, living dead in all honesty.
