Forbidden Tragedies

Chapter 22

-Kira-

I hadn't left this room since last night. Not after what I saw from him after his late return.

That almost pained, hungered stare he looked at me with for a split second was one I was familiar with from my past, enough to where I found myself freezing under it.

Not something I'm at all proud of.

Getting snapped out of it the second he yelled at me, I fled while I could and locked myself away, not even risking using the bathroom and just deciding to hold it for as long as I could.

It was then that I could feel the effects of my messed up blood start to surface again.

The racing of my heart seeing him all bloodied and for a split second thinking that I would be next.

He looked like he'd just murdered someone. Someone who put up quite the fight.

The truth wasn't something I would be able to figure out on my own.

I knew he had a dinner of sorts that he'd made plenty clear he wasn't looking forward to, but returning like that didn't add up to just a dinner.

I don't know why I even cared to know what happened, I think it was just for the sanctity of knowing whether or not he did truly go on a murdering spree of some sort. Just so I could know whether or not fearing for my life right now was something I needed to worry about.

Even that didn't sit well as a solid conclusion.

His pupils were thin, but they still held their gold color, not the red of someone who had freshly fed.

Which was odd given that there was a fair amount of blood on him.

God I really needed to get out of here.

I pushed myself out from beneath the pile of blankets that gave me comfort, debating again with the idea of leaving this room given how hungry I was.

Maybe if I just like... run for my life through his room to leave I can avoid him.

The odds of him just being hidden away where his bed was were pretty high, I think... Or maybe he'd already left.

Usually, I could hear the occasional footstep from his room indicating as much, but so far, it's been silence.

So... in his bed most likely then.

I used that small assurance to tear myself from bed, and tip-toe over to the dresser to put on my escape clothes and some comfy shoes.

My hair looked... fine. Fine enough for me to decide to just toss it over my shoulder and call it good. The quicker I can get out of here, the better.

These doors didn't creak, but I still opened them as carefully as possible and stepped slowly into the bathroom.

I was so focused on my end goal that I nearly yelped and instead had to slap a hand over my mouth at the sound of someone knocking at the front door.

I froze and stayed silent, hidden in the darkness behind the doorway of his room and the bathroom.

I hadn't ordered anything so that only left him to go and answer the door for whatever he'd gotten.

But seconds passed and there was no movement, no show of life from behind those curtains or anywhere else.

Again a knock sounded, and this time I noticed that it differed from the typical rhymic ones from the servants whenever they stopped by.

This one was a tad more forceful and rushed.