Page 50 of Scars and Burns

I cleared my throat, “Thanks for the offer but I must return home.”

Almost sensing my displacement in the world, she says, “Well if you ever want a place where everyone is welcome regardless of status. Just ask anyone for the billet of dwellers. They will show you the way.”

Billet of dwellers?

What does that mean? What is going on here in the Shadowlands?

The women and I part ways.

Not really giving our interaction much of a thought afterwards.

I’ve been returning to the bordering villages ever so often. Varying the towns I visit. Never following a pattern so no one comes after me or knows where my next hit will be. I find someone to kill every single time. Some are rapists. Some are cheats. Others are murders themselves.

But all end up dead.

It’s the only thing that brings me release anymore. That eases some of the tension growing inside of me.

But it does nothing to dull the numbness I feel. My body and mind are as cold as ever. No warmth reaches my skin. No feeling touches my soul.

Once, a man got the upper hand. Slicing his sword across my torso. Enough to cut through my leathers and break skin. I welcomed the pain. It urged me on. Drove me to finish the job.

That’s when it started. The sting of the wound brought me something other than utter nothingness. Separating my body and mind. For my body can still feel pain but my mind has gone docile.

For what is the value of a few afflictions upon my skin when all of my features are to be ashamed of in the eyes of others. My copper coloring, raven hair, and obscure color of my eyes stand out like a black rose in a garden surrounded by sunflowers.

My body is marred with scars now. Some from battles. Others from myself. All bringing me brief moments of feeling. Only to fade into nothingness once more.

No one even knows. No one sees. Covered in thick clothes. Constantly wearing long sleeves and pants. The only ones to see my bare skin are those I indulge in. Those in the Shadowlands where I have a chance of blending in. Always taken in the dark. Too drunk to notice the imperfections.

The indulgences are enough to ignite my senses but not enough to satisfy me. Always having to return to my chambers and finish the job myself.

Only to become just as desolate as before.

A rarity in itself but this night will be no different. I will find someone to kill. Bring myself some relief as I provide their soul with its own release. Then I will might find a random drunken stupor to indulge in.

Finally, I see my mark. A man stalking a young female Fae. She’s pretty, innocent, and vulnerable. A perfect target for him.

Before he has a chance to make himself known to her and she suffers at his hands. I make my move.

Slicing his leg. Immobilizing him. Enjoying the hiss of pain and anger he makes at the attack. I stand directly in front of him. He begins to draw his blade but I cut off his hand before he can swing it.

“Ah! You bitch! How dare you! Do you know who I am?” He spits out through gritted teeth.

I don’t, nor do I care. But that doesn’t matter. He could be a Lord, Duke, or the King himself and it wouldn’t make a difference to me.

Smirking, “Yes, you’re a disgraceful, pathetic excuse of a man. Who was just about to assault a young woman.”

“And how could you possibly know that? I haven’t even done anything. I was minding my own business. We could have just been heading in the same direction.” His voice is shaky. Barely able to get the words out. Probably because his wrist is throbbing at where I just severed his hand.

Fool. He thinks he is clever. Thinking he is going to out maneuver me. But I saw the look in his eyes. They all have it. The look of lust, longing, and abuse.

“Don’t try to deny it. I’ve seen your kind before. You all look the same. And I relish in killing every single one of you.”

His eyes gawk open. “So it’s you. You’re the one murdering along the border villages. We thought they were random but you are targeting us.” His wrist is squirting out blood now. His pulse rising. Quick streams of blood shooting out of his veins with every heartbeat.

I peer down at him. A scowl plastered across my face. The rumors have stirred for the past few years. Rumors of a mad woman rampaging in the Shadowlands. Killing innocent men. No motive, just killing. But these men are far from innocent.

I click my dual blades into place at the handles. Creating my double edged sword. It’s easier to stab them through the heart that way.

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