Blood seeps through my fingers as I press a rag to the gash across my ribs.
In the distance, Egwura's city gates taunt me from afar. The whispers of the people and the court as they all pointed accusing fingers at me...
Tears brimmed my eyes and dulled my vision of the green gates of Egwura.
How can this be happening to me?
"You're bleeding, hermosa."
I felt his large soft hand cover mine. The weight of his pity makes the air taste sour.
I yank away, and the rag fell with a wet slap to the rocky ground.
"Do NOT touch me!" I spat with as much venom and disgust that I could muster.
He steps back.
I watch the way his brow furrows, one raised higher than the other.
"I am only trying to help." He blinks once, twice—waiting for me to calm down, I suppose.
Unfortunately for him, I am anything but calm.
"Well, don't fucking try to. It's all lies. You don't care—so stop pretending."
I say this while picking up the once-forgotten rag and pressing it back against my side. I ignore my fingers, slick and sticky with my own crimson blood.
He hesitates... then takes a step closer, leaning in to inspect my open wound from where he stands, careful not to touch me.
"You're bleeding, so of course I care, hermosa."
A laugh, sharp and bitter, suddenly rips through the air from my lips.
"Oh, for fuck's sake! Nobody bloody cares!"
I shift away, stones crunching beneath my boots with every step.
"Nobody cares about me—And now I have find out the hard way."
I mutter the last part, half to him, half to myself.
My legs tremble, but I force myself to stand upright. My eyes remain locked on the city I once called home.
If I'm being honest...Egwura was never my home.
I don't think I even know what it feels like to have a home.
I can't afford to wallow in self-pity.
All that should matter right now is finding a way to free my father.
Whether he deserves it or not, I don't know.I only know one thing: I must go alone to figure this out.
And so I stagger past the silver-eyed man—his black armor torn. He's just as battered as I am.
Although, I can't tell if he has deep wounds like me. I was the main target, after all.
He saved my life. Why? What does he want from me?
Did I care? Yes.
Do I want to show I care? No.
No one at this point deserves an ounce of mercy from me.
I don't care what the circumstances may be.
Not even if we had just narrowly escaped death's clutch together.
The truth I'm still trying to ignore is this:He would have easily escaped without so much as a bruise.
But I would have died.
Could he truly care as he claims?
No.
Stop it Winter, its the assumptions that got you here in the first place!
He doesn't care!
No one does.
He just wants something from me.
Just like everyone else.
And once he gets it, he will discard me just as my so called people did.
But I have no idea what it could possibly be.
After what happened today, how can I trust anyone?
Releasing a heavy sigh—whether of defeat or exhaustion—I'm not sure.
But I do know that I am awfully tired.
So I allow myself to collapse, as gently as I can, against the tree nearest to us.
Pain lances through me—hot and searing—and I wonder if that damn arrow was poisoned.
I won't be surprised if it is.
Their aim was to kill me.
Well, death must be better than this suffering I feel.
The pain from my side is like nothing but a mere blow—
compared to the hollow empty feeling in my chest.
I'll check my wounds later.
But for now... rest.
My eyelids flutter shut.
The exhaustion pulls me in like a cool tide.
The tree's rough bark presses against my already wounded cheek.
And then—My memories begin to surge through me like water flooding out of a broken dam.
And for the first time in a very long time...
I don't fight them.
I let them drown me.
Because everything that happened led me to now.
And suddenly—everything goes black.