Page 2 of The Blackened Blade

But I survived.

I had survived through all of it.

Even at my bloodiest, I still pushed forward. I learned quickly in this pit of hell that I could never give up on myself again.

I slam my hand against the door once again, but my legs suddenly give way, hitting the hard floor as my knees buckle. My cheek scrapes off the metal door as I fall downward and a warm trickle makes its way down my face as small black spots appear in my eyes.

My hands fall limply to my sides, too weak and heavy to lift again.

I tilt my head to look down at them, scars both new and old cover every finger and every inch of skin. Just above that, on my wrist, a thick silver and black metal band the size of a sleeve cuff, sits against my skin. It was a shackle placed there by The Facility.

I wasn’t sure exactly what it was made of, just that it always felt cold against my skin and that it made me weak. It also made me slow and my body groggy and unable to move properly or recover quickly. It was as if there were a permanent weight on me, so heavy my body couldn’t function properly and draining me of even the tiniest slither of strength. They had only removed it when I was being sent for testing.

If only this wasn’t here. If only I’d known sooner that I wasn’t as weak as I had thought. If I’d known before what I was capable of, my life would have been different, andtheywouldn’t have been able to take me. Nobody would have.

I shake my head, pulling for any last drop of strength left in me as I shakily turn and reach for the door.

I scrape and scratch at the thick metal as my breathing becomes thinner and raspy with each inhale. The smoke and fumes were clawing their way through my lungs, making each breath heavy and painful.

All I can see and taste is the fumes, the smell of smoke and ash surrounding me as I feel the warm embrace of death quickly circling me.

A sharp pain flares from each finger as I continue to scratch and scrape at the thick grey door, followed by a warm trickle. Small red marks cover the door as I try to cling to a sliver of hope.

I couldn’t stop now, I wouldn’t.

I had to do all that I could and what I should have done years ago.

I’ll fight until my last breath leaves this scarred body.

I wouldn’t cry for help, or beg or plead. It gets you nowhere.

There is no knight in shining armour coming for me and no saviour ready to rescue me. Long gone are the hopes for a hero.

My sight begins to darken, colours dimming around me as sounds begin to fade into the distance.

My hands drop to the ground once again. This time I can't muster any strength to pull them back up.

I try to pull some air into my smoke filled lungs, my mind hazing in and out of consciousness as I try to battle fate and will my body to continue to function…to live.

My mouth opens and closes as I feel my body tremble slightly. My vision further darkens as my body slumps limply to the side, the hard feel of concrete behind me as I shakily turn one final time toward the blood stained prison door.

My greatest regret in this life,and I have many,is not living freely, not believing I was worthy enough to defend myself.

That I took every hit, every hard word and cold look as if it was what I deserved. That I believed every sweet whisper and fake smile and questioned nothing, and that I held onto hope in relationships when there was none there to begin with.

My life was painful, and even in these short twenty-seven years, they felt like an eternity of misery.

I deserved better.

Theyoungerme deserved better.

I should have bitten the hands that swung toward me even with no strength back then.

I should have made the bruises that marred my body during my academy years the wounds of my tormentors, not mine.

I should have grown, and not allowed myself to be locked in a cage, believing only her sweet words and their scathing looks.

To all those that made my life miserable…I wouldn’t be so forgiving.

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