Thursday, September 1, 2016
Defiance can sometimes bring with it such liberating sensations. To do exactly what you've been warned, again and over again, not to - that was what I had done almost twelve months ago. Most of my time spent over the fence was a good one. I had hoped it would last forever. I only wish what happened as a result of that was as easy to forget as most insignificant things in my life.
But until this day I can still remember the warmth of his breath against my lips as we laid under the beam of the morning sun, skin touching from head to toe, the light spray of freckles over the field of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, the feeling of him still snug inside of me. Most of all, the despair set in his deep blue eyes knowing what will come for us next.
For nine months after our little escapade, I returned from the other side and devoted all my time, energy, and willpower to creating a perfect warrior out of myself. It was all I could do to keep myself distracted and focused on my priorities towards myself, my organization, and my nation. With time, my eyes, ears, and instinct sharpened. My resolve, core and muscles hardened. I was ready for the oncoming clash - ready to carry out the commands required of me. Nothing could stand in my way.
Or so I thought, until the day itself arrived. Standing dressed in my suit and armor in the freezing cold and the blistering wind biting into the exposed skin on my face while carrying with me my spear in my right hand, I find my sharpened senses a waste when my surroundings all but unravelled themselves to the lone man standing naught but a few steps away, as petrified as I am.
I feel the muscles in my thighs and arms shaking, rearing to go, yet my nerves get the better of me. I hear war cries all around me, yelps of pain, screams of defeat. I feel Cooper's calloused hand hard on my shoulder as he tries to yank me back to reality, hear him yelling into my ear, telling me to fight.
I tell myself to fight. To take up my spear, to take a step forward. The more I tell myself to put my body into action, the less clear my vision becomes. Soon, I feel a wetness on my cheek I don't remember having since I was as young as a babe.
The quickest movement launches itself across my vision in a display of grey and wood brown. Another spear - the enemy's. Cooper coughs, then retches, and it is the ugliest most shattering sound I've heard. The assassin watches as the life seeps out of Cooper's eyes before tugging his spear out. Blood lines the edge of his blade as his amber eyes sweep across Cooper's shell of a body on the snow beneath our feet and finally land on me.
I am no longer caught in a daze, but I am shaking. It is a shiver so great my teeth rattle, my grip on my weapon unsteady. Still, I stare into the assassin's eyes, challenging.
Time isn't wasted on his end. I see his blade coming right at me from atop. A headshot. I lift my spear in a vain attempt to protect myself. Before any contact can be made, he pauses midair, eyes rolling back up into its sockets, and his blood spraying across my face. Then he collapses to the red snow above Cooper, lifeless.
Jack stands before me. My skin tingles with an awkward enlightenment. It feels like ages since the gap between us was this close. His eyes are still the same unmistakable blue.
He turns towards me hesitantly. Our gazes lock, and my heart races for him.
"Gillian!" Someone shouts at me. Deziree. "What in God's name are you doing just standing there?"
I don't think. I move.
Jack reacts, his blade coming down hard against mine - the screeching sound of it deafens my ears. I leap back and swing my spear from the opposite direction, but he manages to defend himself again. We go at it for a while with none of us breaking a sweat. It is evident that neither of us are trying very hard.
At some point in time, I realize that only one of us will come out of this alive. We can't be playing pretend forever. Not this time.
I falter an inch. It is that inch that costs me.
I feel the blade of his sword pierce through my skin and lodge itself painfully between my ribs, coming out through my back. A long, deep and steady stab - I never thought Jack had it in him. I feel the sting rival that of the excruciating pain in my heart. It is a relief at best - that there was some form of physical pain after all that could hurt as much as my heart has been for the last year.
I fall to the ground, but it never hits me. Jack has me in his arms, the hardness in his eyes giving way to tears that flooded his cheeks. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, getting the last sniff of the scent in my hair, and then puts his lips on mine, a soft, warm comfort.
I return the kiss as much as I could with my strength fading and consciousness blinking in and out of existence.
"I'm so sorry, Gill." He whispers, his words ragged with regret. He grabs ahold of the hilt and pulls his sword out with one quick yank. I feel the pain wash over me like a tidal wave anew, sweeping me more into the darkness. My head spins and I see dark spots invading my vision.
"Gill." He pats my cheek, but I barely feel it. My senses are numbing. I laugh, a short quip perhaps, before I die. "Gill," he beckons again. "Stay with me."
I manage to open my eyes a few seconds more to see his charming face just once more. "I never should've crossed that bloody fence." I laugh weakly. I cannot see him anymore, even his voice is a far off echo.
"I love you." He says in a rush before it's too late.
I can speak no more. With all of my remaining strength, I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and suddenly the pain ceases, along with everything else. For the first time in forever, I find myself a peaceful rest.
But until this day I can still remember the warmth of his breath against my lips as we laid under the beam of the morning sun, skin touching from head to toe, the light spray of freckles over the field of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, the feeling of him still snug inside of me. Most of all, the despair set in his deep blue eyes knowing what will come for us next.
For nine months after our little escapade, I returned from the other side and devoted all my time, energy, and willpower to creating a perfect warrior out of myself. It was all I could do to keep myself distracted and focused on my priorities towards myself, my organization, and my nation. With time, my eyes, ears, and instinct sharpened. My resolve, core and muscles hardened. I was ready for the oncoming clash - ready to carry out the commands required of me. Nothing could stand in my way.
Or so I thought, until the day itself arrived. Standing dressed in my suit and armor in the freezing cold and the blistering wind biting into the exposed skin on my face while carrying with me my spear in my right hand, I find my sharpened senses a waste when my surroundings all but unravelled themselves to the lone man standing naught but a few steps away, as petrified as I am.
I feel the muscles in my thighs and arms shaking, rearing to go, yet my nerves get the better of me. I hear war cries all around me, yelps of pain, screams of defeat. I feel Cooper's calloused hand hard on my shoulder as he tries to yank me back to reality, hear him yelling into my ear, telling me to fight.
I tell myself to fight. To take up my spear, to take a step forward. The more I tell myself to put my body into action, the less clear my vision becomes. Soon, I feel a wetness on my cheek I don't remember having since I was as young as a babe.
The quickest movement launches itself across my vision in a display of grey and wood brown. Another spear - the enemy's. Cooper coughs, then retches, and it is the ugliest most shattering sound I've heard. The assassin watches as the life seeps out of Cooper's eyes before tugging his spear out. Blood lines the edge of his blade as his amber eyes sweep across Cooper's shell of a body on the snow beneath our feet and finally land on me.
I am no longer caught in a daze, but I am shaking. It is a shiver so great my teeth rattle, my grip on my weapon unsteady. Still, I stare into the assassin's eyes, challenging.
Time isn't wasted on his end. I see his blade coming right at me from atop. A headshot. I lift my spear in a vain attempt to protect myself. Before any contact can be made, he pauses midair, eyes rolling back up into its sockets, and his blood spraying across my face. Then he collapses to the red snow above Cooper, lifeless.
Jack stands before me. My skin tingles with an awkward enlightenment. It feels like ages since the gap between us was this close. His eyes are still the same unmistakable blue.
He turns towards me hesitantly. Our gazes lock, and my heart races for him.
"Gillian!" Someone shouts at me. Deziree. "What in God's name are you doing just standing there?"
I don't think. I move.
Jack reacts, his blade coming down hard against mine - the screeching sound of it deafens my ears. I leap back and swing my spear from the opposite direction, but he manages to defend himself again. We go at it for a while with none of us breaking a sweat. It is evident that neither of us are trying very hard.
At some point in time, I realize that only one of us will come out of this alive. We can't be playing pretend forever. Not this time.
I falter an inch. It is that inch that costs me.
I feel the blade of his sword pierce through my skin and lodge itself painfully between my ribs, coming out through my back. A long, deep and steady stab - I never thought Jack had it in him. I feel the sting rival that of the excruciating pain in my heart. It is a relief at best - that there was some form of physical pain after all that could hurt as much as my heart has been for the last year.
I fall to the ground, but it never hits me. Jack has me in his arms, the hardness in his eyes giving way to tears that flooded his cheeks. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, getting the last sniff of the scent in my hair, and then puts his lips on mine, a soft, warm comfort.
I return the kiss as much as I could with my strength fading and consciousness blinking in and out of existence.
"I'm so sorry, Gill." He whispers, his words ragged with regret. He grabs ahold of the hilt and pulls his sword out with one quick yank. I feel the pain wash over me like a tidal wave anew, sweeping me more into the darkness. My head spins and I see dark spots invading my vision.
"Gill." He pats my cheek, but I barely feel it. My senses are numbing. I laugh, a short quip perhaps, before I die. "Gill," he beckons again. "Stay with me."
I manage to open my eyes a few seconds more to see his charming face just once more. "I never should've crossed that bloody fence." I laugh weakly. I cannot see him anymore, even his voice is a far off echo.
"I love you." He says in a rush before it's too late.
I can speak no more. With all of my remaining strength, I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and suddenly the pain ceases, along with everything else. For the first time in forever, I find myself a peaceful rest.
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