Page 58 of Dead By Dusk

You can’t kill him yet,a small voice in the back of my mind reminds me, and I do my best to tell myself that over and over again, but the man struggling beneath me is making it hard to not just end him as he spits blood at me and laughs out a weak, “Kill me if you want. You’re both already dead.”

My grip on his neck tightens, and I force his face to the side, my smile widening. “Why would I do that when the sight of you suffering beneath me brings me so much joy?” I question and watch as his face pales further. Logically, I know it’s likely due to the amount of blood he has lost, but it’s nice to believe I’ve instilled fear into this man.

I shouldn’t kill him without demanding answers, but my control has frayed and before I finish him off, I lean my body down and bring my mouth to his ear to whisper a quick message. The last words to a man who will die a failure.

“Anyone who dares touch himwilldie by my hands. Their blood will be spilled come sunset, and every drop will be a love letter and an apology for all the words I have been robbed of,” I start, and as his arms struggle for freedom beneath my body, I huff out a quick laugh and continue, “If only you had killed me when you had the chance rather than running your mouth. Now, their blood will be on your hands.”

And then, sitting back up, I finish the movement I had begun earlier, digging the tip of the blade into his skin and roughly dragging it across the length of his neck. Agonizing screams fill the air, and when the blade reaches the halfway point, I make sure to push it in deeper across the bob of his Adam’s apple. Satisfied as his blood shoots out of his neck, splashing onto my arms and chest before pooling around his body, I feel his pulse grow weaker and weaker before his final heartbeat shoots through my hand like one final distress signal. I feel no remorse as I numbly stare down at the man before me .

They all die by dusk.

29

Wake Up: Ronan

“Ronan, you have to get up,” Silene says from where she sits atop me. I’m still laying in my bed, my hair is longer than it should be right now and is falling onto my forehead in black, messy waves. I have an odd sense of Déjà vu.

My hands wander under the white button down shirt that she had stolen from me before straddling me.

Deciding there are other things I’d rather be doing than leaving this bed, I begin unbuttoning the shirt from the goddess on top of me. It seems, however, she doesn’t agree with my idea when she lets out a loud, throaty laugh and throws her head back in amusement before grabbing ahold of my wrists and pinning them above my head. She leans forward, bringing her nose to mine. Her long hair cascades around us in dark brown waves, still slightly mussed from sleep, and her mossy green eyes bore into mine while a smile graces her full lips as she lets her hands roam up the expanse of my arms.

When they reach a wound on my bicep I wince, looking down at the irritated area. The scab that had been forming begins to fall away, and red drips on the white sheets we lay in.

“Ronan, you have to get up now. Come on,” Silene says, humor still etched onto her face as if she doesn’t even notice the blood dripping and making a mess.

Her hands move to cup my jaw, and when she does, I pull away as if I have been physically struck, but she doesn’t react to that either as she pulls me closer to her body. Even as uncertainty courses through me, I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer to my body. She laughs at the actions, trying to pull her chest away from my own. Fits of giggles continue to rack through her.

“Ronan,” she starts, gasping for air as her laughter continues. “Come on, you have to wake up.”

When I don’t pull away, her laughter turns into deep gasping breaths, as if she can’t get in enough air. Concerned, I let her go to ask if she’s okay, but when she pulls away, her body is covered in blood. With wide, haunted eyes, she breathlessly peers at me as if I’m not understanding her.

But then I realize the blood on her body isn’t hers. It’s mine. Bloody patches of my body where skin has been removed scatter my torso. They’re not large but plentiful, and when two more cuts appear on my upper arm and shoulder, I look back up to her eyes that hold so much pain and horror.

“Ronan, wake up!”

I wake, bound to a chair, screaming in agony.

30

Beginning of The End: Silene

After killing the man who helped take Ronan away, I numbly stumble over to where my black dagger lays on the ground. Turning it over in my hand, I let the feeling of what it had been wash over me. Closing my eyes, small memories flicker through me but instead of happiness or peace, all I feel is rage.

Red hot anger courses through my body and doesn’t stop until it has me deep within its clutches. But when I reopen my eyes, my focus narrows on the paper placed where I had just picked up the blade. It was dirty and crumpled, but it couldn’t have come from anyone other than Ronan. It had to have been something that he set down last night while I slept.

Curiosity begs me to open the small paper to check what’s inside, but its quiet pleas are nothing compared to my fury. So I pocket it before climbing back on top of the house. I waste no time washing off the hard flakes of blood that are still irritating my skin, but when my gaze catches in the mirror, I don’t seemyself anymore. At least, not the version of me I had become—but the sixteen year old who had no one in this world that loved her. The one who was constantly scared of what her father’s affection meant for her, even if it was all she wanted. I saw her innocent and fearful eyes, and knew that the version of myself today felt far too much like she did.

I did not come all this way to be who I was, though.

We do not die today.

I say this in my mind as I clean off the rest of the blood and went on a hunt through the house. I’m scouring the room Ronan and I used to share, searching for anything that can guide me in the right direction. I’m emptying every drawer looking for anything other than the map with no key or direction, and just when I’m about to give up, I have one more idea. It’s ridiculous and unlikely, but—it’s something.

Feeling along the underside of the wooden desk, I squeeze my eyes shut as I wait for any change in texture beneath my fingertips, and there it is. Along the right edge, I feel the smooth, soft texture of tape before the rough paper it’s attached to. Delicately, I remove the paper, still not daring to open my eyes until I know it’s secure within my grasp, and then…I still don’t look. There would be no reason to put something away like this if it weren’t important, and yet I’m questioning if it will even be something useful to me right now.

One second passes, and then another as I blindly unfold the paper in my hands. Only then do I steal a glance. Its secrets are unfurled before me and I see parchment paper, so thin it’s translucent. Words and numbers are scattered throughout in a seemingly disorganized fashion, and I take memorized steps back to the bed where the map had been discarded earlier.

But it’s not there anymore.

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