III. Voices
A high, wheezing voice in the darkness. "You have your orders?"
"Yes, my Lord." His tone is quiet, furtive, but above all, scared.
"Then go!"
Does he dare?
He does.
When he arrives, her father is in the front garden, kneeling over the flowerbed. His death is easy.
(No, not easy, only that it could never compare to the heart-rending agony of his next task.)
The front door is ajar and he can hear a melodious tune wafting through the sweet, cool air. He is unaccountably reminded of bells, and has the inexplicable urge to simultaneously smile and break down in tears.
She gasps out in ragged breaths, "I-I…I love you…"
The utterance – it sounds hesitant, unsure almost, until, for the first time that day, he looks her in the eye, and when he sees the love, amongst the desperation and pure sorrow, and her right hand clutching her heart with anxious scrabbling fingers, he knows that she means it.
His shoulders sag and he closes his eyes, but only for a moment.
"I'm so sorry," he whispers hoarsely.
Green light flashes.
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(P.S. This isn't the last chapter. Their story will continue.)
