Falling to his knees, agony getting the best of him, he threw back his head and screamed into the air for what seemed like eternity. Finally, as his ragged lungs gave way to exhaustion, he stopped serenading the dead body in front of him; stopped reliving the regrets of his past. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this, it wasn’t supposed to hurt so much.
He killed because she was a killer. He killed because she said he would never understand her and that was why they couldn’t be together. So, he killed. Again and again and again.
He stared down at the body in front of him and knew that killing wasn’t the answer. No solution to his pain.
She was gone, and nothing was going to bring her back. Nothing.
Standing at the edge of the cliff, her arms spread wide and eyes closed, she felt the wind buffet her hair as she leaned forward ever so slightly.
For a moment, she was gone.
Her body plunging to the rocks below, a long sought after peace finally achieved. They all thought she had it figured out. Thought that her unmatched skills in combat meant she knew what she wanted, that she knew who she was. Very few knew the truth, herself probably counted among those who didn’t.
The cry of a nearby seagull brought her back to reality and snapped her head up. She open her eyes and peered upward, the steel grey sky above a stark contrast to the straw colored hair she brushed back from her eyes. She stepped back from the cliff, retrieved her ax from the hard ground below her and gazed off into the distance.
She’d never let her doubt stop her before and wasn’t going to start now.
Securing her weapon across her back she continued her journey towards the setting sun. He was lost out there somewhere, and nothing was going to stop her from bringing him back.
Hiding in the diminishing shadows of a rock outcropping waiting for the sun to fully crest the horizon, the boy ate sparingly from the limited food he had left in his pack. At 14-years-old he didn’t know much, but he knew how to survive. On his own for most of his short life, survival to him was nearly as second nature as breathing. What he didn’t know about, more significantly, was his parents. They were separated, he knew that as much as anything else, and both alive. He didn’t know why, but he always felt them; felt exactly where they were and exactly how far apart they were from each other.
It was because of them that he was this way. Because of them he lied.
The strangest part about always feeling where these two people were was the equally certain knowledge that they would never meet each other again.
And if it was up to him, neither would he.
He hated them, his parents. This he knew, as much as anything else.