Home But Not Whole

Time goes by at a snail’s pace. Hours bleed into days, and days bleed into weeks. As per my request, I am not to be disturbed. Few are even allowed to enter my chambers. Scarlett, one of Scark’s finest proteges, juggles tending to me and keeping the others in check. If they want to see me, they have to go through her first, and I’m grateful for that. Because the truth of the matter is that I didn’t want my people to see me like this, weak and helpless, a shell of who I once was.

So, I spend my days in bed, alternating between resting and binge drinking blood. I roll over in bed, wincing as a stab of pain shoots down my side. My mind wanders as I stare up at the ceiling bleary eyed. I’m taken back to the darkness of the Darkwoods, to that moment in time where everything was the bleakest. After wandering the forest for days with no end in sight, my strength had dwindled to nothing. I was weak and starving. I thought surely, I would die, but facing my grim reality wasn’t even the worst part. No, the worst part was that a part of me actually wanted to die. A part of me still does…

A tear carves a path down my porcelain cheek. You’re not alone anymore, I remind myself. But why didn’t I believe it? Why did I still feel so lost—and supremely alone?

“Because he’s not here.” My voice is barely above a whisper and cracked from disuse. A sob escapes me as Scark’s face flashes before me. The look of sheer agony that twisted his features as the Knight’s sword impaled him and the image of his skin turning a venous ashen gray as he died are forever etched into my brain. He died because of ME, protecting ME. I never even got a chance to thank him, let alone to say goodbye…  

Another sob escapes me and then another and another, until I find myself bawling into my pillow. To make matters so much worse, I learned upon my return that Azrael, who had been pulled away months ago on some errant mission for the Demon Lord, has since broken his Blood Oath and disappeared. With this new revelation came a cacophony of insecurities and anxieties. So many thoughts and feelings swirl inside me like a violent hurricane. Is he dead? No, the Darkling would be rubbing it in my face if he was. Then, how, and better yet, why? Where did he go? Gods, the Demon Lord is going to be so pissed, and I may very well be His next target to draw out Azrael. My throat tightens up at the thought, as if invisible hands are wrapped around it cutting off my airway.

Or had he simply grown tired of these charades, decided his time was better spent elsewhere? H-he abandoned me, didn’t he?... The only sound left in the room is the sound of my heart breaking into a million pieces, and at the same time, an all too familiar pain rips through my chest: loss.

. . .

I groan as I can’t get any more blood out of the man. I let go of his wrist, my eyes raking over his lifeless form draped across my bed. His skin is so pale that it’s nearly comparable to my own corpselike complexion. I guess I drained him dry. Well damn, that sucks. I laugh at my own unintended pun. Okay, maybe I’m a little tipsy too.

I unceremoniously kick the body off my bed, where it joins the others littering the floor. I’ve been busy you could say. Licking the remaining blood off of my lips, I attempt to run a hand through my hair, only for my fingers to get tangled in all the mats. I grimace, freeing my hands from the rat’s nest, before curling back up under the covers.

The door creaks open and someone enters the room, but I don’t even bother looking up at her. “I’m done with these. Get me more, will you,” I exclaim as more of a command than a question, gesturing to the bodies strewn about the room.

“No.” I push myself up, eyes darkening at Scarlett’s response.

“No?” I growl.

“You heard me. I’m not getting you anymore people to eat,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “Enough is enough, Inferna. You haven’t left this room in weeks, and when on earth was the last time you bathed? You reek. If you won’t get your ass out of bed, I will drag you out of it myself.”

“What is this, some kind of intervention?” I sneer.

“If you want to call it that, then sure.” Without another word, she grabs my ankles and starts physically dragging me out of bed.

“What the fuck?!” I yelp. It takes me a moment to get over my shock, and by the time I start putting up a fight, I’m already halfway off the bed. “GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF ME!!!”

“You need help!!”

“I don’t want your help!”

“Too bad. You’re getting it.” She drags me all the way to the edge of the bed, before grabbing my arms and yanking me to my feet. I fight to get away from her, but she holds me in a vice grip. “Listen to me. LISTEN TO ME!!”

I wince as she yells at me, the sound grating on my head, but quit struggling nonetheless. “You’re hurting… You blame yourself for what happened to Scark?...” she continues, a question in the tone of her voice.

I swallow a lump that has formed in my throat. “…Yes.”

“Good. Use it. Funnel it into something useful: RAGE. Make the Knights of Stronghelm pay for what they did. But, in order to do that, you have to get better first. Let me help you, please. I’m begging you. This is not what Scark would’ve wanted.”

I’m at a loss for words. I take in a shuttering breath as emotions bubble up inside of me. Not trusting my voice, I give the barest nod of my head, as my eyes prickle with tears. She takes my hand, giving it a squeeze, before leading me out of the darkness I had found myself hopelessly lost in.