Drabble:26
POV:Third Person
He tried his best to get over those days, and yes, he had forgiven himself for all that happened those four months, but that didn't mean he could forget them. Every once in a while, something would set him off- some perfume, someone's face- and he'd be taken back to the darkest period of his life. And the flashbacks would start. He'd feel the monster taunting him.
He'd see the faces, remember the look of terror and the screams of his hapless victims- people who, because of him, had been ripped apart from their loved ones. Who'd never go home, who'd never smile or cry again. Who'd never live again. He'd remember the cruel satisfaction he had felt draining their lives. And he'd hate himself. He'd despise himself. He would be racked with intolerable guilt.
He'd keep his distance from others, afraid that the monster would unleash itself. He'd be afraid to look into mirrors, afraid that the merciless face and the red-ringed eyes would gaze back at him. And he'd hate himself for being weak, for not having enough control. He'd want to curl up into a ball, and let the guilt take over.
Then, he'd remember. He'd remember the promise he'd made to Rose, his Roza, and he'd breathe again.
He'd treated her abominably, but she'd come back to him, she'd loved him, she'd raised the dead in him. She'd forgiven him. If she could forgive him, he knew that he had no right despising himself. It was the monster who had been the grim reaper. It was he who had reveled in killing, in hunting, in ripping apart people. Dimitri wasn't him.
He wasn't the one who'd been the cold-blooded murderer. He was the man who'd lived, and loved, with a passion. He'd been the man who had been honorable, dutiful, untainted. And he'd be that again, he'd go back to what Rose jokingly called all his former godly glories, and he'd live again. He could never right what the monster had wronged, he could never untaint himself, but he could believe again.
Dimitri would look up from where he'd averted his eyes to the ground and unclench his fist, which had become his coping mechanism for not breaking down when the memories came back. And his eyes, scoping out the area, would clash with a pair of lovely dark eyes. Eyes that spoke to him without words. Eyes that held love and faith and confidence in him. And his shadows would leave him.
He'd cross the floor, the hell with being a stoic guardian, and engulf the girl with the knowing eyes in a hug. He'd hold her in a tight embrace, and they'd stand together, wordlessly, feeling their hearts beating synchronously. And it would be enough, he'd come home. His Roza had made him whole. The monster would recede into the recess of his mind, and Dimitri dared to hope, that with his angel, he'd defeat it too…someday.
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