Page 2 of Grim
“Kane! Let him go!” Isabelle cried, but it never reached me. How could it? She had killed the man she was yelling at. He was no more. There was no longer a heart inside the chest upon which she pounded. I was bereft of soul.
Isabelle stood between us as he lunged for me. He shoved her out of his way and tackled me to the floor. I wasted no time grabbing him and rolling until I was on top, pinning him down. I gripped fistfuls of his hair as I begun to slam his head into the stone flooring until his body went limp.
I wiped the blood off my hands as I stood and walked over to Izzy, who lay on the floor now, evidently cowering.
“How could you?” I hissed while glaring at her form. “I’ve devoted my life to you. I’ve loved you with everything I had, and you betray—” I froze as I looked at her still-motionless body. “I-Isabelle?” I whispered while kneeling beside her. I turned her over, and a sob wracked through me. “No.”
Blood ran over her pale skin and into her yellow hair. She must’ve hit her head on the edge of our coffer when my brother pushed her.
She is gone. She is gone. Isabelle …myIsabelle is … gone.
“No, no, no, no.” That one word is all I can manage, a futile and desperate plea to an unresponsive universe.
Passion overcame me, sending me spiraling into rage. The results of my mania lay before me. My moist eyes caught a glimpse of the small knife Isabelle kept on her bedside table. For her protection, I insisted, not knowing she was safe in the arms of another.
But death? Oh, cruel Death! I never wanted you to come for her. Murder, unintentional and borne from passion, lay doubly on my hands now. The hands that pull closer and closer to that gleaming silver knife.
What have I done to deserve this? To deserve the betrayal of my brother and wife, my family by blood and marital bond?
Nothing. I’ve done nothing to deserve this fate, and it is nothing I am left with. One cannot take anything from nothing.
I stare at the shining blade, feeling the weight of guilt and regret crushing down on me. Thoughts swirling and slicing through my brain:I do not want to die, do I? I could easily cover up this murder and continue living my life as if nothing ever happened. This plague has claimed so many souls that lay piled in the streets. How easy it would be to add two more to the countless number. I could hide behind my professional facade and return to the streets, offering help and healing to those in need.
Yet deep down, I know I can never truly wash away the stain of blood on my hands.
My eyes stare at the grotesque and tangled mockeries of the love I once knew. I could dress them, I suppose. The old Kane would have. It’s disrespectful to leave them naked and soaked in blood. Maybe I’ve been afflicted withthe disease after all. Perhaps it has been eating away at my brain. Or maybe they really did break me when I lay witness to their sinful dance. Whatever the cause, I can no longer be bothered. They are no more—two decaying corpses.
And I—well, I am no longer a man. I am aftermath. I am ruin itself.
And the aftermath doesn’t heal. It haunts. Ruins do not heal.
I am nothing, yet I still breathe.The words whisper tauntingly in my brain. Over and over and over again.Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
And in that instant, I know. I know I will never be free from this moment, clear of this pain, or rid of this reality. I grip the blade tightly in my fist. It’s almost as if the silver edge sings to me now—enchanting notes of freedom and release.
My eyes scan the carnage that surrounds me one last time.There is nothing left for me here. Nothing. What waits beyond the waking life? What sits past the veil of life’s fleeting breath? What lies beyond?
Tempus ut de. Time to find out …
With one swift motion, I stab the small blade into my carotid artery with lethal precision, crashing my whole world into immediate darkness.
TheEnd
Present Day
“Hello?”
My voice whispers through the void landing like a single droplet of water at the bottom of a well. It vanishes without so much as an echo, devoured by the infinite dark pressing in from every direction.
I blink. Or try to. It’s hard to tell if my body’s even moving. Hard to tell if I have a body at all. I feel suspended, somehow stitched into this silence.
Where am I?
What happened?
Logic tells me I should be panicking. But there’s no pounding heart, no hitch in my breath. Nothing inside me stutters or shakes.
I frown, slowly concentrating enough to raise my hands to my chest, feeling the fabric of my dress, the memory of skin beneath it. I press down hard. There’s no thud. No flutter.
