The Frozen Moon - By J.D. Swinn Page 0,23
The girls hadn’t been as slight as she or Mira, they were somewhat sturdier, she recalled. The last image before her was that of Gwen’s eyes, the one thing she would never forget. Their ghost blue hue now held more truth in the description than it ever had, the pale irises were the fuzzy and distant views of a memory. The eyes seemed to plead with her, longing for the life that they could never again reclaim. She swore that she would die before any of them were taken, yet here she remained, broken yet thriving. The weight of her silent promise laid upon her chest, crushing each breath from her tired lungs, and smothering any condolence she should have taken from the lives of those gathered in around her.
The sorrow set in.
She felt the anger inside her pulling dangerously at the chains she had restrung, but she had no intentions of releasing it again. Nameh didn’t know how many more friends she could let slip in and out of her life in the blink of an eye before she snapped. She hadn’t even had the time to get to know them. Sometimes, it was the people she barely knew that caused her the most pain at death. So many had fallen around her, yet she, with all of her blood lust and spiteful intentions, still stood.
“Nameh, there’s nothing you could have done,” said a voice from around her. She didn’t know who the voice had come from, but it didn’t matter. The person was not what she was focused on, but the words.
“There’s always something you can do.” Her voice came shakily through gritted teeth, she wondered if the others could hear the heavy restraint in her voice. She heard Seth’s weak laugh, which surprised her.
“You were practically dead, and dragging yourself across the floor.” She turned to see the smile flash across his face, and could not keep one from her own. Simply being in the presence of the group was easing the self-hatred that now twisted at her throat. The somber tone resumed, and there was a stifling silence. She felt sorrow and doubt, but she felt no tears come; she knew that there would be tears in the eyes of the others but that didn’t change anything. She hadn’t cried in so long, it felt as though her tear ducts were calloused over.
“Alright,” she said softly, her eyes in a glazed stare, focused on nothing, “let’s get out of here.” Her words struck dead against the floor, nearly as empty and devoid of feeling as the pit in her stomach.
The sickly yellow light gave Nameh’s skin an unbecoming look of jaundice. Her dark eye makeup was smeared down her face from sweat, where it mingled with the blood and silver glitter. Black, red, and silver, like some moonlit rose, she thought. Her thoughts scoffed at the concept, a moonlit rose? More like some black angel of death, wrapped in a shawl of silver and painted with the vibrant life of scarlet blood.
Her dress was only slightly tattered, perhaps she could mend it, but then again, she would probably never need it again. Images of death danced through her mind, tracing graceful pirouettes across the inside of her eyelids. The hot steam from the shower welcomed her more readily than an old friend, embracing her with its dewy fingers. She could feel the grime melting from her before she even touched the water. She went through her mental process as the crystalline needles struck her skin and burned at her wounds. She blocked out the memory, sealed it over with detachment as she always did. Reason ticked through her mind, once again giving her the reason for the loss. It’s for the greater good, she told herself, if you don’t get over this, what good are you going to be in battle? You hardly even knew them… She felt the stony silence of her heart, and eased back into comfort of sorts. Still, these deaths would haunt her for a time. She had never succeeded in making herself completely cut off from emotion as she sometimes wished she could be, but the blood of all those she had watched die accumulated over the years, seeming to dilute her sorrow as more and more filled her.
She could hear Mira pacing outside the door, restless from the experiences. Her heart ached for her friend, who hadn’t been forced to deal with as much loss as she had. At this