Chapter III
Kurtus closed his eyes, willing death to come faster. He dropped the knife on the floor- he couldn't hold it anymore. It was working.
There was an almost inaudible sound as the door was opened.
"Good morning, sir. At special orders from Puckus, you get your breakfast in bed! So h-" Mercada stopped, her eyes widening and becoming moist with tears. "Kurtus? What are you doing?" She made to take his arms out of the water, already grabbing some cloth from her bag.
"Stop." Kurtus said weakly, his voice cracking. "I want to do this. I have nothing to lose and nothing to gain."
"Nothing to lose? What about your life? What about the trust and love of your friends?"
"No one likes me, so just leave me be. This is my choice to die."
Mercada wouldn't let him. She grabbed his arms and bound the wounds with cloths. She pressed down, hoping that with her limited medical expertise she would save him.
Kurtus was screaming out to get Mercada off her. Mercada calmed him down, putting her arms on his shoulders.
"I know you don't want to die. You don't deserve to die. I like you, Blainus likes you, and hell, even Puckus likes you. He was the one that got you this breakfast. They would all miss you. So come on. Life is worth living. Death is not the way out. Eat something and you'll feel better."
Kurtus wiped his eyes, shakily picking up some bread from the tray, which was now on the ground, the wine mostly spilled.
"Good. Take all the time you need."
Kurtus dipped the bread in the cup and took the tiniest bite. He started gagging and coughing, the taste of food after days of punitive starvation strange in his mouth.
Mercada watched him, unable to stop tears falling. He was going to kill himself. She couldn't believe that Kurtus would do something like that. He was stronger than that. But something had driven him to suicide, and Mercada didn't know what it was.
"Kurtus, if you feel comfortable, could you tell me why you decided to... kill yourself?"
He nearly choked on his bread. He managed to say one word before a flood of tears burst from his eyes: "Varro,"
Mercada nodded. It all made sense. They were in love, and after he died, Kurtus wanted to...
"I'm finished." Kurtus pushed the tray towards Mercada.
"That's good. Do you want me to stay in here with you?"
Kurtus' head dropped.
"I could go talk to someone. I think it's better if you missed training today, alright?" Mercada stood up and left the room.
As soon as the door closed, Kurtus made for the knife again automatically. He stopped when he got it to his wrist. He couldn't do it anymore. Mercada would be devastated. He was loved. If he died now, people would care.
Kurtus put the knife down. He retreated back to his bed, staring at the weapon that could have killed him. He rushed for it, grabbed it and threw it at the door. It wedged deep into the wood, signalling the end of his depressive struggles. He was going to try to live. For Mercada, for Puckus, for everyone.