Walking Delusions

a/n: Thanks to all my reviewers! Especially Amanda! I am very much grateful for your words. They made me happy. I'm always glad to see when people enjoy my story, especially with the compliments you gave me. They gave me great hope for my future as a novelist.

This chapter is for you!

Enjoy!

Chapter Six: Flight of Fire

There was a flame burning within me,
Yearning to get out of control.
He knew that I was falling,
But he only watched, watched with those,
Piercing eyes as I slipped into my madness.
I wanted to run and hide,
To escape from that terrifying look.
This was not the man who had been my shadow.
This was not the man who had once stared at me,
As if I had recently come back from oblivion.
It was only more confusing, more the paradox,
More the raging fire that consumed me, consumed my heart,
My soul, my hatred, and the love that I felt in return.

I coughed as I struggled to open my eyes, the thin grey smoke that was rapidly filling up the tiny room getting into my lungs and choking me. I felt hands on my shoulders, shaking me, trying to get me to awaken.

“Miss Anne? Come on, you have to wake up now!” It was Ryou’s voice, urging me to open my eyes.

I groaned softly and used all my strength to push my eyelids up. At first I only saw his shadow, and then two of him. Gradually, my vision came into focus. I could hear yelling and the roar of a great fire.

“Ryou?” I croaked. My voice was hoarse yet I could not recall what had happened to me. The last I remembered was the strange dream and Constance sticking me with the horse needle.

Brown eyes sparkled with relief. “By Babel! She’s alive!” he yelled over his shoulder.

I struggled to sit up from my lying position but instantly fell back with the pain, eyes closed. My stomach and chest burned, especially right where my solar plexus lay. I tried to move my hand up to investigate but found that they were attached to whatever it was I was lying on.

“No, don’t move,” Ryou urged, gently placing a hand on my forehead.

It felt so cool against my burning skin that I was grateful for the touch. I moaned piteously, nausea roiling in my aching belly as a the oncoming migraine began to pound within my skull.

“She needs blood to heal that wound,” came Vincent’s deep voice as he stepped up beside Ryou. Golden eyes glanced over my body, probing and deliberative. “He succeeded then…”

Ryou immediately bristled. “Yes, well, we really don’t have time to start wondering now do we. This place is burning down around us,” the monk snapped, getting to work on the bonds at my wrist.

“What’s… going on?” I rasped, eyes darting between Ryou and Vincent.

“That doesn’t matter,” Ryou muttered, cursing lowly when he fumbled at the straps. “You are safe with us now, as you should have been before.” I couldn’t seem to work up the cognition to even begin to contemplate his meaning.

I felt the bonds on my wrists disappear and then my body began to slide. Vincent quickly caught me in his strong grip, sweeping me up into his arms. In my slight delirium and fatigue, I hadn’t even noticed that the bed that I was lying on actually stood slightly at an angle. I collapsed into his arms, unable to move my body on my own.

Ryou looked at me with worried dark eyes. “Why is she so weak?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

My eyes slid closed again, fatigue settling deep inside my body. I couldn’t even lift a finger, I felt so exhausted. What had happened to me?

Before Vincent could even respond, the familiar and commanding tone of Melath echoed around us. “Come on, you two. We haven’t much time!”

I felt my body moving as Vincent obeyed and forced my eyes open. I caught his gaze, managing somehow to stutter the question that burned on my mind, “You… saved me?... Why?”

He looked down at me, an indistinguishable emotion evident in his eyes. “It was our fate,” he responded simply before shifting his gaze away. My eyes shuttered closed again.

I could smell and taste the smoke. I began to hear the screams of the dying, those that were burning to death in the fire that I still could not see. My body ached and I felt something warm and wet, dripping down my sides. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it was. My left hand also felt wet, like I had tested the waters of a warm bath. I slipped in and out of consciousness, barely comprehending what was going on around me.

The next thing I remembered was opening my eyes to see a burning town. I heard the screams of the dying; they had pierced through my medicated fog and into my subconscious, weighing me down with their pain. I did not understand what was going on, why everyone was fighting. Vincent still carried me, often one-handed as he used his sword to kill those who dared get in his way.

He was fluid in his movements as if he and his sword were one. He spared his enemies naught a glance as he cut them down effortlessly, sword flashing as they dropped down dead. It was amazing and sickening all in the same. There were splatters of blood, my blood, covering his clothes, and drops of it on the ground behind us as we ran out of Donnil. Ryou flanked his right side, and somewhere we had rejoined with Melath and Ivory.

It was obvious that these four had been friends longer than they cared to admit. Either that, or they had fought many battles side by side in a short time. They moved together, coordinating their attacks effortlessly.

Melath hung back, covering the other close-quartered fighters from a distance with his remarkable aim. He drew and shot with outstanding accuracy and speed. It seemed like his arrow supply was endless. His beautiful face was a cold and impassive mask as he methodically destroyed his enemies, most not getting close enough to touch him before they fell to his arrows.

I saw one once get by both Ivory and Ryou and come straight at Melath. Vincent was unable to help him. I wanted to scream or something, anything to warn him of the impending danger but my body was numb, unresponsive to my commands. I should not have underestimated him.

Melath saw the assailant and smoothly pulled out a dagger from his pouch, blocking the clumsy sword attack and knifing him in the gut before cutting his throat. It was both beautiful and decidedly morbid to watch.

Ivory was the front, swinging her huge and finely sharpened axe in wide arcs, slicing through the enemies in a streak of blood. It seemed she delighted in the killing as an eerie wide smile graced her features and blood splattered across the front of her clothes and face. I couldn’t help but shudder at the look of glee on her face. She screamed insults and derogatory comments at anything that crossed her mouth, lips pulled back into a gleeful snarl.

Ryou was hiding much under those bulky robes, evidenced by the strength in his swings as he battered the hell out of an enemy that crossed his path. His thick staff deftly knocked across heads and into defenseless guts, subduing his enemies and often times, killing them. There was a grim look of determination on his face, though deep and shame-filled regret constantly passed through his eyes. It must have been hard for him, for a monk to kill.

Though Tucker and Constance hadn't seemed to have such scruples.

My head spun for a moment; the world going woozy. My stomach flip-flopped and I felt very, very sick. The stench of burning human flesh and the screams of the dying and crying for those that were gone, these emotions filled my senses. I had to swallow down rising vomit and shuddered in Vincent’s arms, my body feeling strangely cold.

What had happened while I slept?

There was so much anger and pain in the air; it was almost palatable, much like rusted metal. I glanced through the smoke, thick and grayish-black, as it wound around me, catching the eyes of a very young child. His tear-streaked face held mine, dull eyes glassy with pain. He seemed to be speaking straight at me in words I could not hear, as if placing all the blame on me.

I glanced with horror at what lay at his feet. Two bodies, one male, one female, blood no longer pumping from their fresh wounds, the hearts having long since given up on their hosts. He still clutched at their clothing, locking eyes with me. Those must have been his parents.

My fault. This was my fault. Somehow, I knew I was to blame. The power, the power that was within me, the destruction that Constance claimed I could cause. He was right. Donnil was evidence of this.

I started to cry; I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. I should have died! They should have left me to burn in that awful laboratory! My body shook with the force of my tears and I curled inwards in Vincent’s arm, burying my face in the soft fabric in his cloak and surrounding myself with his scent. I couldn’t bear it! I couldn’t bear the blood, the sadness, the tears of the child, the child with lavender eyes. I clutched at his shirt, needing his solidness to hold me down.

It should have felt awkward, wrong, like touching stone or someone who wasn’t worthy of a commoner’s touch, like a prince or something. But instead, I felt an odd comfort. Not that it eased my tears or even the pain in my heart. I could still hear the slashing of Vincent’s sword as it cut through the air, ending the life of another attacker. I heard the dying screams and the splash of blood against the ground. I could still smell the burning homes and buildings, the sharp, acrid flavor of sanguine mist in the air. The odor was distinct, like that of failed dreams.

I cried ruthlessly, for those that could no longer, for myself, for everything. My body was tired, my head spun and my stomach was roiling uncomfortably. Would there ever be an end to the pain?

“You should have left me to die…” I whispered brokenly as I buried my face further in the cloak, inhaling the exotic scent of the dark-haired man.

Guilt assailed my body like a heavy blanket, covering me in self-revile. Vincent paused in his movements but I did not look up to see why. Maybe he was gazing down at me or maybe something was blocking his path. Whatever the reason, I didn’t want to know.

“I should have died…” I whispered again before I slipped into unconsciousness, my hand still firmly wound about the fabric of Vincent’s black and flowing cloak.

I stood at the base of a set of seemingly endless stairs. I followed the black onyx steps with my eyes, gasping at their height and steepness. There was nothing before me but the stairs, wide enough for three men to walk abreast and without railing. I wondered what lay at the top, what awaited me on the other end? Should I climb into the unknown, face dangers untold?

I turned around, looking into the grey of nothingness behind me. There was absolutely zilch out there. It was as if the world consisted of nothing but the stairs and myself. Sighing heavily, I returned my attentions back to the stairs.

I looked down at my body, seeing my hands were covered in a thick red liquid, the edges already drying to form a crusty brown stain. Blood… my hands were bathed in blood. Grimacing in disgust at the mess on my hands, I rubbed them vigorously on my jeans.

I brought my hands back into sight again, only to widen with horror when I realized that the blood had not gone. I looked to my pants, seeing that bright garish streaks of dark red fluid had covered my thighs, but the crimson liquid still flowed over my skin and hands as if it had never been disturbed. I could feel my body trembling as I again started rubbing my stained hands on my clothes, my pants, my shirt, anything to get the disgusting substance off.

I sank to my knees at the base of the stairs, scraping my hands along the floor, leaving streaks of scarlet blood everywhere I touched. And still it did not fade. The blood… the blood was everywhere and it would not go away no matter how much I rubbed. I started to sob, hot wet trails down my face, my eyes burning.

I could smell it now, the thick, cloying odor of decaying human flesh. How I had come to recognize the scent I did not know, but I wish I hadn’t. The disgusting odor was all around me, clinging to me like a second skin. The stairs beckoned to me but still I could not move.

Ah, god… the smell… the blood… the loss it was too much to handle. I could feel my stomach protesting violently, the familiar chills racing up and down my spine as my hands began to quiver. I gagged uncomfortably and retched, over and over and over…

I woke up vomiting, rolling over and emptying my stomach all over the grass beneath me. My stomach clenched and unclenched, the odor of death still fresh in my nostrils and the feel of blood still heavy on my hands. I didn’t think I would ever stop as I managed to roll to my knees where I struggled to hold myself up. There was a sensation of something wet, warm, and sticky against my bare hands but I ignored that feeling, pushing it aside as unimportant as I retched again, gagging on my own puke.

A pair of hands settled on my shoulders but I could not acknowledge to who they belonged. My throat burned and I realized that I was crying yet again. I continued to vomit until there was nothing left within me but dry heaves.

I could feel my shoulders shaking while my stomach muscles slowly relaxed, screaming with the effort. But still I wept, for what I had seen, what I had heard and felt. I wept for what I didn’t know and what I knew. I wept for who I was and would never be again. For innocence lost and stolen in so many ways.

The weight on my shoulders tightened and I felt myself being drawn backwards into someone’s warm and welcoming embrace. I quickly recognized Ryou’s familiar scent but I found myself wishing, for just a moment, that it were someone else. That thought was quickly washed down when a fresh wave of guilt struck me and I curled into a protective ball as I cried myself out, until it seemed there were no more tears left to shed.

My sobs turned to quiet hiccups and shudders. I felt terribly weak and my body shook violently. I opened my eyes slightly, taking in the blood staining the clothes in front of me and realizing that it was my own blood and not that of those that were slain. Somehow along the way, I had been injured. There were grassy plains around us, the mountains in the far distance, and the echoes of the sunset blinking off of them.

“She needs blood, Ryou,” Vincent announced, calm and stoic from somewhere above where I sat quietly in Ryou’s lap. The monk had taken to stroking my hair to comfort me as he whispered words of endearment.

I shook my head violently as I pulled away from Ryou’s chest, pulling my gaze upwards until I found Vincent glaring down at us as if he had just caught us frolicking about naked and gleeful.

“Why do I need blood?” I questioned, voice harsh and rasping.

He stared at me. “Because of what’s within you,” he answered simply. “It will heal you.”

Because of the monster. That thing inside of me that clawed to get out and wreak havoc. Hell, no.

“No,” I said firmly. I closed my eyes only for a brief second, fighting down nausea and breathing rhythmically as I swallowed once, twice then opened them again, rubbing the edge of my clothing against my mouth. I could still taste the remains of the bile.

“No?” questioned Vincent, raising an eyebrow as if he did not expect me to rebuke his statement.

I set my jaw stubbornly. “I’m not some damn vampire! I will not drink blood. I’m not a monster!!” Somehow my denial sounded hollow even to my lips, my voice rasping out like some sixty year old chain smoker.

“With those wounds and the loss of blood you have suffered, it is a miracle you still live. However, that won’t be for long if you don’t take what you need to sustain yourself,” argued Vincent in return, golden eyes narrowing to irritated slits.

“I would rather die than steal someone else’s blood,” I returned stubbornly. The very thought of it sickened me. It did not matter that I had done it once before. I wanted no part in the drinking of the life fluid, none whatsoever.

Vincent scowled. “Foolish girl…” he muttered before turning on his heels and walking away from Ryou and me. I ignored his exit, burying my face back into Ryou’s clothing. He had been surprisingly silent.

“Keh!” came Melath’s voice from somewhere behind Ryou. I could not see him but I knew it was he who spoke. “Letting yourself die after we went through all that trouble to save you.”

Ivory just had to put in her two cents worth, causing me to scowl around cracked and swollen lips. “What a selfish girl…”

“I didn’t ask to be saved,” I mumbled bitterly, my voice loud enough that they were able to hear me.

I heard muttered cursing and the sound of someone getting up quickly. I didn’t bother to try and see what was going on. In fact, I was not sure if I could have. My body felt as if I was getting weaker by the second and I was so dizzy. It seemed like the world wouldn’t sit still no matter how nicely I asked it. Melath and Ivory spoke to each other in hushed tones but I ignored them, concentrating instead on keeping my head from spinning about on my neck.

“Miss Anne…” came Ryou’s plaintive whisper. I could hear it in his voice, but I wasn’t sure what it was. Confused, I turned a bleary look up towards his face, towards that heavyset brow and a pair of dark and worried eyes.

“Ryou?” I asked, confusion etched into my features. He was probably going to give me some long story about life being worth living or whatever. But I was in the mindset that if I died, I might wake up from this horrible nightmare, dream, whatever.

He began to stutter, face flushing with obvious embarrassment. “I would… allow you… to have mine.”

I gaped, trying to move away from his embrace and feeling very ashamed of myself at the moment. Ryou, he gave so much and asked for nothing in return. He was cursed with the face of a dog but the heart of one as well, loyal and true. I tried to move away, but my strength was nowhere near where it should be and instead I collapsed against him again, feeling every bit like I was using him for my own selfish needs.

“No, Ryou. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

Just let me die in peace, you foolish boy. You do not need my kind of complication.

He frowned, putting one hand beneath my chin and directing my face up towards his in a gentle gesture. “I offered,” he added softly, as if he did not want the others to hear what he said.

Why was he insisting so much that I live? What did I, a stranger, matter? “I can’t. I…” I didn’t finish my sentence.

To be honest, I was not sure if I could or even knew what it was I was going to say. Did I want to die? Was that the problem? I didn’t even know what to believe anymore, myself, my dreams, the events, my heart. I was lost in a maze with no string.

“Please…” he whispered. “You are the first to…” He shook his head before gazing at me intently, giving me a puppy dog look that made my heart warm with giggly-girl syndrome, a first for that to occur.

Where did the line between reality and fantasy end? When could one rely on belief and fact, what the eyes could see and the hands could feel, despite everything that had been taught and experienced beforehand? Did I dare live in this confusing and utterly alien world or was it all a dream? If it was not, did I dare die and take that valorous step into darkness?

I was the lowest of the low to even consider taking such a thing from him. Yet, I sighed heavily, unable to resist the pleading I saw in his dark eyes. It was like he was afraid of something, being alone maybe? I didn’t know. But if it made him happy in some odd way, I suppose that I could suck it up and live, for now. It was the least I could do in repayment.

I would like to say that was my true reason for accepting. But honestly, I was far more afraid of death than I was of becoming the monster inside of me. I was more than willing to admit offered blood than basically commit suicide by denying it. Shameful, I know, but that is the truth of human nature. We are selfish and disgraceful creatures who only exist to live for ourselves. Anyone who tells you different is a fucking liar.

I looked up at him and nodded once, noting the careful smile that broke out on his face. “Fine. But...” I blushed and looked away.

My world spun for a moment and there was a tingling coldness in my legs as if my body was dying from my toes up, slowly. I slumped against Ryou, instantly feeling as if sitting up required far too much effort.

“But what?” he asked.

“I don’t… know how,” I explained, stammering a bit over my words. It wasn’t like I was born a vampire! Nor did I think I could stomach actually sinking my teeth into my flesh to bite him.

A dark shadow passed over us as the breeze carried a scent of something exotic and spicy to my receptive nose. It was Vincent; I would know that scent anywhere.

“She is too weak for the biting, Ryou,” he explained softly, his voice almost seeming sensuous if I hadn’t been feeling so cold all the sudden. It became harder to breathe and it was a struggle to keep my eyes open.

I moaned piteously as my eyes slid closed of their own accord. I began to fall into darkness, neither dreaming nor awake, just… slipping. My body was roughly shaken and my eyes snapped open, looking into the worried brown eyes of Ryou.

“What do I do?” he asked quickly, turning his attention away from me to Vincent.

I managed to shift my tired eyes towards the dark-haired man hovering over us. He knelt down as he held out a small dagger, one that was instantly familiar as my vision began to go gray around the edges. I couldn’t feel my hands or my feet anymore. Did I even have legs?

“Remember the sealing? Hold...”

I was slipping again, their voices becoming fainter and fainter. It seemed death was waiting for me, somewhere out there. I was a most welcome guest at Her party. Then my nose twitched as the suddenly delicious scent of blood wafted my direction. Warm skin pressed to my lips, the heated liquid flowing over my mouth.

The human part of me flinched inwardly at what I was about to do, my stomach nearly clenching with nausea. But the demon part of me, the evil part of whatever I was, longed for it. In my weakened state, it was the wicked that took over, grabbing onto Ryou’s wrist’s hungrily with both hands. I gripped his arm like a vice and latched onto the slice in his wrist with my mouth, lips wrapping around the cut. I sucked out the warm coppery substance greedily, nearly inhaling the sweet taste of Ryou’s blood.

He was sweet like candy, and swiftly fresh, like a sudden summer storm. I inhaled his flavor like one would a batch of Halloween sweets, resisting the urge to gnaw on his arm if only to produce more of the blood that was taking over my senses.

I heard him gasp at the first touch of my lips. But it wasn’t a gasp of pain or surprise, but something else entirely. If I weren’t half out of my mind with delirium and confusion maybe I would have understood it. The arm that was wrapped around me tightened in its grip, unconsciously pulling me further into Ryou’s embrace even as I drank of his life’s blood.

He tasted so damn good, despite the fact that the idea of drinking someone else’ blood was very disgusting. The dusting of strange substance on his skin only seemed to further flavor his taste. A war raged within me, between my demon and my inner self. I briefly wondered how the others tasted, having already savored the experience of Vincent. I hungered for Melath’s pale skin and for Ivory, wondering if their blood ran as sweet as Ryou’s or as spiced as Vincent’s.

I could feel strength rapidly returning to my body, warmth replacing the icy cold that had invaded my lower limbs. It was all thanks to Ryou and I hungrily, greedily drank some more, eager to feel even greater strength.

“That’s enough,” intoned Vincent. I ignored him.

There was a part of me that listened but it wasn’t the part that obeyed. I could feel Ryou shuddering against me, his breath quickening even as I sucked harder on his wrist, unwilling to waste even a drop. His body began to move against mine, almost sensuously as if we had unknowingly began some sort of erotic dance.

The dark-haired male growled. “I said, that’s enough!!” He reached for me but I tried to jerk away from his touch. “You are going to kill him!” He yelled, ignoring my evasive tactics. He tackled both Ryou and I to the ground, and I released the monk’s wrist in shock.

Vincent grabbed me around the waist and tore me away, tossing me to the side where I sprawled against the grass on my back, panting heavily. My body shook but I could feel the strength, the magic that flowed through me. A soft, tingling sensation settled in my chest and wrists as if wounds were healing at an advanced pace.

I stared with wide, unblinking eyes at the sky above me, the blue and purple hues of it fascinating me even as my pupils looked to and fro unceasingly. My lips moved but I made no sound, an eerie smile on my face. It was like I was watching from outside my body

Then suddenly, I felt like an intense weight lifted off my chest and I could control myself again. I tasted blood on my lips and in my mouth. Rolling over, I spat violently into the grass, trying to rid my mouth of the disgusting coppery taste. All sweetness was gone now, leaving me with the vile consequences of my actions.

I felt eyes on me as I spat and looked up into two pairs of eyes that watched me, displaying no emotion. Ivory was tending to Ryou, trying to get him to open his eyes. He lay shuddering and gasping against the ground, hips moving in a strange but familiar motion.

What a sight I must have been: pale from my ordeal, covered in blood of all kinds, clothing torn to shreds. I huddled on the ground, spitting occasionally even as a thin trail of bloody saliva leaked from the corner of my mouth. I must have looked like a monster.

And worse, I felt like one. I felt like some hideous creature. Never had I seen that side of myself, that greedy, destructive side that craved madness and despair, that craved the desecration of life and the selfish use of others. I did not cry; I had lost my tears already. Instead, I turned away from them, hiding my shame in my hands.

Was my fear of my own death truly worth this?

It was then that I noticed my left hand. My pinky finger… it was gone. I stared at it horrified. The flesh was already closing over the wound and healing but it was horrible all the same. I couldn’t feel any pain, but the horror was enough to make me feel sick on my stomach. What had become of me? What had happened?

I heard the rustling of fabric but I didn’t want to look. I was too absorbed by the sight of my four-fingered hand. I could still hear Ivory’s quiet murmurings as she tended to Ryou and I felt extremely guilty. It was my fault that he was now shuddering, possibly dying. But instead of trying to help I sat huddled on the ground.

I don’t think anyone could have hated my existence as much as I hated myself in that instance. For all that he had done and this was my reimbursement? I didn’t know what to do, what was expected of me, if anything was. There were so many unanswered questions swimming through my brain, like poisonous words of malice and deceit, invading my every thought. Was it real; was it an illusion, had I gone completely mad?

“Kill her,” hissed Ivory, her voice sounding low and final. “We don’t need this! Ryou doesn’t need this.”

I didn’t even think to protest. If that was what was coming to me then so be it. You have to understand my conflicting emotions here: the innate desire that existed in all living creatures to exist no matter the circumstances was arguing with the human emotions of guilt and shame combined with the horror of my actions. I still feared death but to be responsible for all that destruction and death; it was too much to bear.

I will admit; I wanted the coward’s way out. If I could not kill myself, then at least I could die by someone elses’ hands. My pride no longer mattered. I could not handle everything that had happened nor did I think I could handle anything else in the future.

“I am not going to kill someone in cold blood!” Melath snapped, sounding irritated.

Ivory growled in anger. “She would have killed Ryou if Vincent hadn’t stopped her. If she had succeeded, would you kill her then?”

“Ivory, it’s not that simple,” the golden-eyed man interjected. I heard subtle shifts of movement behind me but my gaze remained locked on the far horizon and the darkened shadows of some unknown forest.

The forest seemed very ancient and a small fog hovered over the very apexes of the trees. A pulsating white fog that seemed inviting and yet, frightening all at the same time. I wanted to run beneath the branches of the golden green trees, as if freedom was just beyond my reach.

And if I turned my head only a fraction, I could see the dim orange glow and rising grey puffs of smoke. All that remained of Donnil.

“Shut up!” Ivory snapped, voice beginning to rise in volume, as she grew angrier. I didn’t know if it was because of Vincent, or me but remembering her fierce expression during the battle and her bloodlust, I was not ashamed to admit that I hoped it was Vincent. “You knew about her powers and you didn’t warn us!” she continued as a small groan suddenly interrupted her words. It was both pained and relieving, a strange sort of groan.

“I am fine… Ivory,” assured Ryou weakly, very nearly sounding on the edge of death. “Quit yelling, please.” The two of them seemed to have a very odd relationship. Ivory had never struck me as being close to any members of her group. Or was this the loyalty of battle companions that I didn’t understand?

Vincent snorted as he returned to the original conversation. “She cannot help what is happening to her. She doesn’t even know who she is!”

Ivory huffed, clearly not impressed by his answer as I winced, wondering when they were going to stop talking about me as if I weren’t there. I wondered why I bothered to care and why I couldn’t do anything but huddle on the ground in shame, staring at my stump of a finger. Why I couldn’t stand up for myself but just listened to them as they debated over my actions...?

“I’m pretending as if you’re not speaking,” Ivory retorted with a snort. “Why do you bother to stand for her? Your heart is colder than the Citcra wastelands.”

“Why are you so defensive about Ryou?” Melath snapped before Vincent could even speak, pointing out a fact that I had just considered myself. “We are not exactly the closest of travel companions, despite the circumstances.”

The other woman exhaled sharply and though I couldn’t see it, I could feel the force of her glare, two pinpoints of hatred directed straight at my back. It sent a cold shiver down my spine. “Maybe so, but I'll be damned if I let some priss with a destructive demon complex destroy us because we are too enamored of her presumed innocence!” she spat in response, venom and hatred lacing every single word. I shivered again.

So this was what my fate had wrought, what it came down to for them. Fighting amongst themselves while I pant and stare dumbly at a missing finger. It was time I left and this time, I wasn’t taking any other answers. They were beginning to sicken me and I was beginning to hate myself. It was best if I disappeared. No more blood could stain my hands and I would never again have to see that look on Ryou’s face. I stood quickly, hands clenched at my sides as I turned slowly to face them, speaking quietly though it instantly cut through their fighting.

“I'm still here!” I snapped sharply as if they had forgotten my presence. “I can hear every word that you say.” My eyes locked with theirs as I angrily swiped at my chin, trying to wipe away the disturbing trail of bloody saliva.

Vincent and Ivory were standing nearly nose-to-nose, glaring at each other intently. Ryou was sitting up the on the ground, only gotten so far as to rise to one knee. He seemed so weak, so fragile despite the strength I knew existed in his body. I had done that; I was the one to steal his vigor. Melath was standing apart from the three, arms crossed over his chest as he frowned at them.

“I am leaving,” I finished simply.

Ryou gasped, head shooting up to look at me aghast. Despite his fatigue, concern for me radiated from warm brown eyes. That silly fool. “You can’t. You are in no condition-”

“Shut up, Ryou!” interrupted Ivory, crossing her arms and glowering at me impudently. “Let the little brat get herself killed.” She tossed her head, causing blond tresses to fly over her shoulder in a gesture vaguely reminiscent of those cheerleader girls I always hated in high school. Stupid stuck-up bitches.

The monk thought to protest as he struggled to pull together some sort of strength to rise, whining when he failed miserably. “What if Constance-”

“He already has what he wants,” Vincent put in smoothly, golden eyes cutting towards Ivory in smug satisfaction. “Or at least he thinks he does,” he added in enigmatically, almost as an afterthought.

“But she-” Ryou still thought to protest and yet again, they were speaking over me, pretending as if it didn’t matter what I wanted or needed, as if they could decide my life for me, much like an ex-boyfriend of mine. It irked me more than my hatred for myself. Soon, anger replaced my shame and I grit my teeth.

“She tried to kill you, Ryou! What the hell is wrong with you?” Ivory demanded furiously, turning to look her companion in the eye, green orbs blazing.

“Stop talking as if I am not here!” I roared as loudly as I could, voice echoing so much that it disturbed a nearby roosting flock of birds. They flew away, just like in the movies.

I was sick of it. So damn tired and fucking, “Sick of this!” I continued aloud without meaning to. I shook my head viciously and buried my face in my hands. “I didn’t want this, any of it. I don’t want it! Stop fighting amongst each other! Stop pretending I’m not here!”

“If we let her go, and someone else gets a hold of her power, we may be facing a bigger problem in the future than dealing with it ourselves. War is on the horizon,” warned Vincent stoically, completely ignoring me yet again.

“And when have we become the saviors of mankind?” Ivory snarled, fingers curling into angered fists. Her bloodlust was practically stifling.

I growled in anger, my eyes flashing as an unnatural rage began to fill me. Some burning fire within added fuel to the flame, igniting courage long left hidden and buried beneath selfish cowardice.

“Then either we kill her or take her with us?” Melath asked as if he had started taking leadership advice from Vincent. It reminded of the time that I had seen them arguing with their eyes over dominance. Melath had won then, but I think it was only because the dark-haired mystery let him.

Vincent nodded. “They are our only options.”

“Shut up!” I screamed, tearing my hands away from my face and glaring hotly at the two men once again attempting to decide my fate. “I’m my own person! And I will decide when I die and when I live!” Finally, their attention was on me, though no one seemed particularly enthused by my choice to speak.

“Miss Anne…”

“I said no!” I declared, shooting Ryou a look that instantly quieted his protest. “You don’t need me and I sure as hell don’t need you!” I took several slow steps backwards.

Melath and Vincent exchanged looks, as if they knew what was on my mind. They were not going to stop me, not this time. I might not have known anything about what the hell was going on, but I was tired of everyone else deciding what was best for me.

“I’m…” My voice faltered for just a moment at the determination I saw in the faces of the two men. But I gathered what little courage I had.

“I’m leaving!!” I turned on my heels and took off running towards the trees, as fast as my legs could carry me. I felt a burning pain in my chest but ignored it as I raced for the cover of the golden-emerald trees.

I wasn’t worried about Ryou; he was in no condition to give chase. One of them would surely stay behind with the weakened monk. No, it was Melath’s arrows and Vincent’s speed that I feared. I prayed that the forest would give me what I needed to lose them.

I was desperately afraid of being alone in this world and yet my stubborn streak refused to give in to whatever the group behind me wanted to offer. What was I? Who was I? How can I live uncounted around people such as they and not go off the deep end? The answers were there but I could not see them. So I ran… ran as far and fast as my ill-trained legs could carry me towards the safety and cover of the fog embraced forest.

******

a/n: That's it for this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! I look forward to any comments that my readers would have to make!

I'm currently looking for artists. So if anyone knows of people who take commissions and such, lemme know! I'm trying to design a cover for this story. Thanks!