Ai Hod Yu In
Chapter 6
AN: Hey guys! Thanks to all of you who have been reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting this story. You guys have really been motivating me to try to write another chapter, believe it or not. Unfortunately, I've been super busy with work and my internet has been down, so this is a little bit late. So sorry for that. Still, I'm sure you guys are really here for the story so here you go.
Clarke could not escape her feeling of dread as she returned back to the village that had been her home for the past few weeks. Something was wrong. She knew it. She just did not know what. The boy's laughter echoed in her mind. His parting words, "Have fun at home."
How did he know where her home was? Looking back on it, he seemed to recognize her. How, though? Had someone from the village tipped him off to Madi? No one knew about Madi, though. That was the only reason why she was still allowed to live with her parents, why Clarke felt she would be able to have a long, happy life. As long as no one knew who Madi was, the girl was safe. If someone had jeopardized Madi, Wanheda would pick up her sword once more.
Clarke couldn't even say why she felt the need to hide as she entered the village. Still, the nagging feeling that they may have been betrayed made her decide to ensure that no one could see her return.
The house looked the same as always. Clarke entered through the back, knowing that she needed to act fast. She'd return Madi to her parents first, then go to find out who had given Madi up. She'd make them suffer, of course. They had endangered Madi, and so it was only right. She'd find out if there were more people coming, and then she'd convince her friends that they all needed to move. Madi was in danger here.
Nothing prepared her for the sight that greeted her, though. Entering the kitchen, everything was trashed. Plates were shattered everywhere. Bowls were smashed over the counters. The food stores were ripped apart. Clarke thought she saw blood on the ground, too.
She entered the living room next, and once again it was torn apart. Someone had taken a knife to the couch, and the stuffing from inside it littered the floor. Game pieces were mixed in as well.
"Shit," she muttered to herself before remembering the baby, "You didn't just hear that. Your mom would kill me. Understood?"
She felt a feeling of dread as she headed upstairs, and she finally let out a sob. The body was covered in blood, which seemed to have stemmed from a wound to the gut. There was also a slice across the throat.
"NO!" she closed her eyes for a moment, willing the image to go away. "Marcus!" Marcus's body remained, though. She hoped against hope that this would be the only body she would find today, but had a bad feeling that that was not to be true. She shook away her grief for the moment, and instead she stepped over her friend's body and into his bedroom.
"Nala!" she whispered this time, though the body was no less gruesome. The young mother had been trying to stop them from entering the room, though it was clear she had failed. Clarke thought that might even be her sword that was thrust into her gut. Just like every other room she'd been into, this room too was trashed. Unlike the others, however, this one had the added bonus of blood and a body. Clarke stepped further in, attempting to steel herself for the last image she was sure was coming. Finally, she knelt down.
Sure enough, Gustus was hiding under the bed, eyes shut tightly. His little hands were weakly holding once of the wooden stands for the bed. He looked terrified, and Clarke felt more pain and rage than she'd ever felt before. She should have been here for him, should have been here for them all. She finally let out a devastated sob, gently pulling the lifeless boy out of the puddle of his own blood and cradling him close while brushing her hand against his soft hair and beginning to hum the lullaby his parents had sung to him.
This boy had so much life left to live. He was supposed to grow up. He was supposed to end up being a better artist than her. He was supposed to be there for his little sister, protecting her. He was supposed to live, not die cowering under a bed. He was supposed to live long after her. He was supposed to see the world. He was supposed to become a teacher. Clarke was supposed to be the commander of death, but she felt, in that moment, like it was more likely that death commanded her. She'd lost so much in her life. Being around her got people killed. This poor family had taken her in, had been her friends. She'd gotten them killed. She was a curse, a plague.
And so she sat in a bedroom, with only several dead bodies and a crying baby for company, and she sobbed uncontrollably.
