Page 97 of Property of Necro

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No voice. No pleasure. No self. Only us.

I trace the invisible mantra on the inside of my casket. The silk is soft against my fingertips. Those they burned. Dipped in acid. Lit on fire.

We break you so you can never break.

They tried.

They succeeded.

Then I won.

I’m alive, and they’re not.

I never knew my mother or my father. We were born and raised together. Their weapons. The children of death. Born to kill. Never to love. Never to care. Never to want. Never to feel.

Now I feel too much.

I want too much.

I care.

And I love...

My brothers.

Her.

They hate me for it. Letting her go. Trying to give her a better life. A chance at something we’ll never be able to offer. A slice of normal. A home without bloodshed.

I don’t regret it.

Not for a second.

My brothers haven’t spoken to me in weeks, and I understand. I do.

With time, they’ll see I made the right choice.

With time, the ache in my chest will subside, and the numbness will set in again. It always does.

We have another shipment coming in tomorrow. That’ll give them something to focus on.

Closing my eyes, I breathe in the darkness, fill my lungs with it, and focus on their harsh words…my training.

Where I was born.

Where I lived.

Where I learned.

Survived.

Pain is your mother. Obedience is your father.

You are no one.

You have no name.

You have no voice.

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