Trigger Warning: A little bit of gore, subtle mentions of suicide, self harm and a little bit of language if that bothers you. All of it will be in bold.
Jasmine grabs my hand and squeezes it hard like she does before she blinks at us or when she's worried. This time it's both.
"Jaz what do you mean they're in trouble? What is wrong?" She stands up and begins to pace, giving me more anxiety. Shouldn't we be going to help them?
"I don't know exactly what's wrong but something is off. I couldn't get a read on either of my parents. Should we go check? I know you have a surprise planned and I don't want to ruin your–"
"Jasmine, this is much more important than some plans that I made, let's go," I cut her off and grabbed my best friend's hand.
She gives me her signature smile, slightly tilted to the left that recently I've decided I couldn't live without. It gives me that warm fuzzy feeling– the kind you only read about in stories that tell the tales of true love and other shit like that. Something I thought I had no chance of getting and am still surprised I did get. I have no idea why Jazzie likes an awkward, quiet prince who can't talk to people without wanting to throw up. Who also happens to like both men and women– a little fact that my father has spent years trying to erase and hide because gods forbid I be any different than the picture-perfect heir he wants.
Jax has asked why I let him walk over me before but he doesn't know the extremes his adopted father will go to to ensure that his son is perfect. Like killing my first crush, my first kiss.
I was fourteen, and Raheem was a year older than me, working in the stables. I had seen him in passing several times prior to our first formal meeting. Before he even said hello I was down bad for him. Kai, who had much more experience in this department, told me that Raheem clearly felt the same way. "You could see it in his eyes, Kitty. Trust me I know."
So I did what every person does, I watched him work for a couple days until he caught my stalking from behind a hay bale. I can safely say that my face was a close match to the shade of Andy's hair. Raheem talked. I awkwardly listened and laughed along. Then out of nowhere I gathered some false courage and made a stupid joke about Plagues knows what but I guess it turned him on? (At least when I explained the situation to Jaz that's what she said.) He pulled me into an individual stall and kissed me. It was my first kiss so I was a sub-par kisser to put it lightly but it was amazing.
The kiss got heated pretty quickly and soon his hat and shirt were on the floor and the buttons on my shirt were being undone. Nothing happened. We just kissed over and over again until my lips hurt. I don't even know what I would have done if something happened. I know how the deed is accomplished but I don't know how to do it? If that makes sense. I had just never seen myself in this situation before so I was slightly relieved when the head groundskeeper came barging in yelling for Raheem to get back to work. When we parted ways– promising to meet up again the next day– I didn't think he saw us. Even if he did, I didn't think he would report it to the king.
My lips stung when I found the letter sitting where we had left each other yesterday, explaining to me how Raheem wouldn't be returning... ever. The waterworks hadn't started until I saw the large bloodstain several patches of skin and a discarded finger, both the same dark shade as Raheem's skin.
In the blink of an eye, Jazzie and I are outside her quiet neighborhood. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary from the outside. Everyone around us just goes on with their business. Blinks are fairly common in the middle class. More powerful than mundanes but not powerful enough to live in the richer neighborhoods with inhabitants who make frequent– and annoying– visits to the king's court.
We give each other a look. One of complete trust, a trust that can only be developed between the closets of friends, a trust that says we will have each other's backs no matter what, that if something bad happened to either of us we would fight for them, avenge them and make sure they are remembered at least by the other.
"I'll go in first just to see. You stay downstairs, I'll call you if I need backup." There is no way Jasmine will need backup and she knows it, she just wants me to be safe just in case and I am kind of grateful. I can't exactly throw a punch and my power wouldn't be of much help unless I want to burn the library down. I would never live it down if all those poor books– all that knowledge– got destroyed or even slightly damaged.
We walk through the already-open front door. The first floor seems completely untouched, and there is an eerie silence throughout the whole house. For most people, that would be normal, but Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton often eat late and spend hours reading into the night. Clearly, none of my friend's family are morning people. I for one am the exact opposite. The mornings and Jaz don't meet up, I am up well before the sun doing whatever most times, nothing just walking around humming old songs to myself, thinking about my next piece of literature I want to write or new recipes to pitch to Gail in kitchens, or whatever musical I have recently seen at the local theater.
The times before everyone is awake and it's just me, alone in my mind are some of the best in my life. The quiet is soothing, there are no crushing expectations to live up to, no people offering fake smiles, hoping to get the heir to the throne of Ilya's inner circle. Unfortunately for them, my inner circle at court includes myself and a few of my favourite (fictional) characters who seem like they have it all figured out. They know what to do when the world is threatened and are brave enough to make the sacrifices needed to save everyone.
Jaz gives me one last long look before nervously climbing the stairs leaving me alone, in the dark. I personally am not scared of the dark, I haven't been since I was seven but the potential threat of someone hiding out here has me freaked out. Every creak of the floorboards makes me want to run. So am I a coward? Yes. Am I ashamed to admit that? A little. But I would rather make it out to find help instead of being killed. I am jumping to conclusions, Jasmine just couldn't get a read on her parents. That does not mean they were purposefully murdered.
A traumatizing scream shatters the silence, probably waking up the entire neighborhood. I race up the stairs and am met only with more frightening darkness. Terrible pictures of what is happening race through my mind as I race through Hamilton's maze of a house. Each room is darker than the last and empty. They don't have a huge house, it's just made up of a million tiny rooms.
Out of nowhere, a body crashes into my side as I close the door to the second of two bathrooms. A mortified Jasmine looks up at me. Tears streak her face and continue to fall while she pushes me away from whatever room she just came out of.
Behind her I see it. The dark figure holding a long sword that shines against the darkness of the house. I can't see their face and I don't think they can see mine but they probably aren't much older than us if not the same age. They are about the height of my brother and have a very similar, athletic build.
Nothing happens. I don't move and neither does the figure. Once while watching a play on an ancient war between two warriors from opposing kingdoms a bystander, a member of the ensemble, stood paralysed with fear when he was about to get killed. I didn't understand it then. Why wouldn't you run or do anything other than just stand there? I asked him in my head. Now I know the feeling. My feet don't want to turn and run and escape. I just stand and watch as they menacingly stare at me, trying to either see my face or see if I'm a threat. Trust me I'm not. If I tell them that maybe they'll let me and Jazzie leave without any trouble? Or what if we just quietly back away? I doubt my hopeful thoughts of both of us escaping this alive.
Unfortunately, Jasmine doesn't read my thoughts and decides to speak to the figure. This would be good if our backs weren't currently against the wall and they weren't holding so many, very sharp weapons.
"Who are you and what the fuck did you do to my parents?" She cries out, tears still streaming down her face.
So they were purposefully killed and now we are also about to get murdered. The realization takes a minute to fully settle in. We are about to die. There is little chance of escape, the stairs are in the next room over.
As a child, I wondered about death a lot. What does it feel like? What happens to us after we die? I do believe in an afterlife but according to what the king has stated I wouldn't be allowed in for who I could love. And what does 'not being let in' mean? Do I just disappear forever? Do I reincarnate as a different person? These are the questions and worries that have left me awake in the middle of the night staring at the sky, hoping whatever gods are watching gave me a sign. A clue. Anything.
Later I even tried to bring death upon myself. After being told it was weak to be the one to wield the blade that ends my own life and having many rounds of therapy with a psychology doctor, all in secret of course not even my brothers knew about these meetings, I stopped climbing to the roof and cutting myself.
Now I can feel death breathing down my neck. Watching me tremble in fear of this unknown force bent on ending the lives of who I believe are innocent people. I can't picture my best friend's parents doing anything that would cause their deaths. Both of them run a library and teach underprivileged little kids, two things that suggest them being good people.
The figure doesn't answer Jasmine's angry demand, just grunts (suggesting he is a man) and stretches his arms. Only now do I take notice of the singed part of his sleeve and a horrible burn, still bubbling and bright red.
He throws several things in our direction and before I can move to avoid the objects, one hits me right in the ribs, hard. Hard enough to fracture a rib, which I think it did. The other one hits the side of my head near my ear less violently but still hurts badly. Jasmine screams as my limp body slumps against the wall. I try to pull myself as the figure moves to us.
She offers her hand to me and I take it, thinking she's going to squeeze it one last time before we die. Instead, I am suddenly uprooted from my spot on the floor and tossed onto the ground of a forest that I know is right outside of Jasmine's home.
I have to help her. Weakly I take one bloody step and fall into the grass a couple of inches away. I repeat this process until I can see her backyard where we spent so many summer nights joking around, eating a variety of freshly grilled foods courtesy of Jasmine's father.
Another blood-curdling scream rips through the house and shakes me to my core. That's a cry of pain. I run (more like an awkward power walk) to the house as a blood-soaked Jasmine runs out. She doesn't take notice of me at first but when she looks at me I take off running to her and wrap her in an embrace.
She is covered in horrible injuries and it looks like she'll have two black eyes and a broken nose.
"Please let me help you" I practically scream to her, as sobs shake my body.
"You are helping me by making it out alive" She whispers to me.
Before I can respond I am at our tree. Jasmine was nowhere in sight. She didn't have enough power to save both of us so she chose me. I collapse onto my knees and just scream. Scream is not physical pain but a pain much worse, one that destroys you completely, one that is impossible to recover from. I scream because of the lives lost today. I screamed because I wasn't strong enough to get us out. I scream because I am too much of a fucking coward to help my own best friend. I scream because that best friend chose to save me and I don't deserve to live. She was so much better than me. Jasmine was going to change things, go to college, and write books and books on what is wrong with this fucked up world and how we can fix it because we clearly don't know how to.
My throat is sore by the time I finish. Silently I get up and walk back home. Where no one truly knows me and I have to move on with my life as if my best friend, my lover wasn't just fucking murdered.
It takes so much longer to reach the secret entrance from the dungeon because of my ribs which are most definitely fractured. After climbing up several long hallways and flights of stairs unnoticed I reach Jax's room. I don't think I could travel anymore to reach my own bedchambers that are on the other side of the palace.
I knock on the door twice with no response before I just barge in. "Jax! I'm coming in" I don't know why I called out, expecting there to be someone in his bed, he's only thirteen and has never shown any interest in anyone– boy or girl– before. I'm just on edge and don't think I could survive talking to anyone except my adoptive brother.
Luckily my unnecessary warning wakes him up. He stares for a minute, taking in my mildly bloody form.
"Kitty, what happened?" He asks me nervously. I walk over and sit on his bed next to him, probably getting blood on his white bed sheets. When I'm settled I carefully and quietly try to explain the past hour of my life that had very recently become hell without breaking down and sobbing.
I finish by gently wrapping my arm around his shoulders, attempting an awkward hug of reassurance without damaging my rib more. Jax doesn't cry. He doesn't get angry. He just sits, emotionless. The kind of reaction that would please our father in this situation but I suppose Jax knows how to deal with grief. He lost both of his birth parents at the same time at such a young age.
"What are we going to do without them?" He asks barely a squeak not breaking eye contact with the floor.
"I-" I don't know. I don't know how you're supposed to live after you lose someone like Jasmine. My sunlight burned away the clouds of my life but now it feels like a whole new storm is on the horizon. I had naive dreams in the middle of the night about the life I thought that maybe we could have together.
So I don't say anything. Don't offer any false reassurance because there is none. The woman who I had the honor of being best friends with. A sister to Jax isn't going to come back from the dead. She gave her life for my undeserved one.
—---Time skip back to the future brought to you by the gorgeous Fearless special edition only available in the UK that I probably won't be able to get because I live in the US, so yeah—------------
After we left the flowers in the house neither of us could stand to be there anymore, the horrors of that night directly in our faces. A word wasn't spoken until I whispered a quiet goodnight to my brother at his bedroom door.
No one is awake at this hour and moonlight illuminates my walk. The scene is very similar to the morning walks I haven't taken in years because of my inability to be alone with my thoughts. In addition to this my sleep schedule was damaged beyond repair, often I would spend long nights sitting in the library trying to leave my demons behind for a fantasy world. But tonight won't be like that, my sleep deprived ass desperately needs to just close my eyes, at least for a little while.
The mess of my bedroom hasn't miraculously vanished since I left it several days ago before my life went to shit for a stupid reason that quite frankly shouldn't be causing me any problems.
But I was used. I was used and betrayed by someone I thought I could trust and the worst part? I don't blame Paedyn at all. If I wasn't terrified of the consequences I would have done the same.
I adjust the dirty bed sheets and lay down, fully aware that sleep is not going to be an option.
Something just isn't right. The sword? The flowers? Why were they left there on the exact day they all died? It must have been an imperial sword too because of my father's crest stamped into the metal. They would have to be a higher ranking member of my brother's guard, I'm not an expert on weaponry but even I could tell it was a higher end blade. Except none of the other generals have been here since before my father's death. Only my brother and I can't even ask him because he's leaving tomorrow for this stupid mission that is way too dangerous. I don't even know how Calum convinced me it was a good idea but it is much too late now to stop it.
And where was my brother all day? I didn't pass his rooms on my walk back here so I don't know if he made his return. He wouldn't know about what imperials are meant to kill who, right? That's not something that is kept- I slap myself in the face.
All those filing drawers! If Jasmine and her family were targeted it was probably written down somewhere! The only problem is there are a dozen cabinets, each with several drawers. I smile a little, proud of my discovery but still sad. Tomorrow I will begin my search for the truth.
The sun is slowly setting outside and all I've learned today is two things. One: My father was extremely disorganized, which is kind of funny to think back on how many times I was screamed at for having messy work. And two: My father had two many damn files. In total I went through a total of two and half drawers out of seventy two. Which is roughly three percent of the way done. I got so bored I tried to work it out in my head. I already know this whole process is going to suck. And watch the file I need be in the very last drawer I check, one more punishment from my wonderful late father. I'm now regretting this whole idea.
Hello. . Guten Tag. Salve. As you can see by this very, very, very, etc. update I am still alive. Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and happy days off to those who don't. I'm sorry about the late update. I've just had no motivation until I read this trick. If you want to write more, drink water while you write. I don't know how true this is because I saw it as a whisper on Pinterest but it has actually helped me so I recommend trying it! Also if you couldn't tell I am very jealous of all the Powerless fans who have access to a Waterstones because of the Fearless special edition. Thank you for reading and please vote and comment!
-Hadley