The two guards marched in and undid my restraints. When I managed to stand up – and I had no idea if I actually could stand up – I felt a painful relief as I stretched my body. When I was on my feet, I was able to get another good look at the room. There were shelves mostly, bearing trays of instruments – syringes, scissors, scalpels. Careful Abigail, don’t do anything foolish.
Sadly, my five minutes quickly drew to a close, and then it was back to the chair. I had a feeling that I was going to be reluctant to sit back down again. One of the guards left the room for a moment on what I guessed was some sort of routine check, and when he returned his words filled me with emotion. “Sir, there are men approaching the building! They’re armed, sir!”
“What?” Brakewater blurted. “How did they find us? How many men?”501Please respect copyright.PENANAWm5PEQYBdP
“At least five, sir.”
“Damn the resistance! All right, both of you get out there and take them down. I’ll be seeing to Mrs Abigail.”
Without word the two guards left the room and maybe even the building, and without any further thought of consequence I saw to my chance. Brakewater had read all of the intentions in my eyes, and his glare reacted to it like a hound to a scent.
I immediately dashed for the table that had the scalpel and Brakewater rushed after me. He caught me from behind and, wrapping his arms around my stomach, he lifted me off the ground. I kicked and screamed and struggled until my elbow hit him in the side of the head and he dropped me. The skin on his face was red with anger, and mine with murder. He struck me once upon the face and I fell away towards the table, stumbling into it, my hand clasping the scalpel.
Brakewater stormed after me and with an agonized scream I spun around and made to cut out his throat. He caught my hand and smashed it against the wall so that I felt knuckles break. The scalpel spiralled away and landed on the floor about two meters from where we stood. Brakewater still had my wrists in his hands, and he had no intention of letting go. I kicked him in the shin and loosened his grip enough for me to slip one hand free, with which I used to jab him in the eye.
He cried out and stepped back, holding both hands over his bleeding eye. This was my chance! I dived towards the scalpel and once again held it in my hands, but again he was on me. I felt his painfully firm hands grip my upper arm, but then I rolled over and jammed the scalpel into the side of his neck.
It had not yet occurred to me that I had just killed a man, for all I saw was hatred. I had blamed the people for my suffering, huh! It was him. My suffering was all because of this man!
There was a spurt of blood followed by a low gurgling sound, and my hands were already warm and sticky with it. His entire body fell limp, his eyes distant, his mouth slowly opening and closing without reason – as if he were trying to utter a final word. I couldn’t get over how quickly his eyes changed… how they faded.
I ripped the scalpel out of his neck and then drove it back in again, and again, until my forearms were covered in blood. The body collapsed to the floor and fell on its back, and with more tears streaming down my face I stabbed him in the chest, again and again and again.
When I was done, I looked at the scalpel within my violently shaking hands as if it were some grotesque crimson monster. So much red – my arms, my torso, my face. I had been painted with it. I don’t know how long I stared at that scalpel. It could have been thirty seconds – it could have been ten minutes. My body was once again as light as a feather, and the scalpel was as heavy as an anchor. I killed him!
I heard a distant voice enter the room, accompanied by muffled shouts. The voice though, it was so familiar. “Oh… Jesus Christ,” it said slowly, in dismal disbelief. “Abigail, are you alright?” It approached me suddenly, Aizel’s voice. “Tell me you didn’t give anyone the code.”
The monstrous scalpel dropped from my bloody fingers as I felt a hand upon my shoulder, I kicked myself away and screamed. “Stay away from me!”
“Abigail, it’s me!” the voice said. “It’s Aizel!”
I looked upon Aizel’s face, clear as day and as real as ever. My breathing slowed and I was dragged into his green eyes.
“Look at me Jeannette, you’re safe now. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Aizel’s voice was the softest, surest thing I had ever heard in my entire life. I lifted one of my hands – still shaking like crazy – and I touched him upon the cheek. What I felt was more than real – there was even a smudge of red from my fingers upon his skin. I continued to cry, uncontrollably, for however long it took for the tears to dry out.
“Aizel!” I blurted, and I hugged him as tightly as I could, never wanting to let go.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered, gently stroking my hair. “You’re safe now.”
I had learned many things that day. First of all, I had learnt that the fighting was never going to stop unless someone made it stop – and I intended to be that person. In a way, I owed Brakewater my gratitude, for he showed exactly how severe this whole situation was. He showed me how weak I was before today, but no longer was I to be fragile. I was no more a child than the next murderer. That is who I am now. This war needed to be fought, they wanted me to fight, and now I was prepared to make them regret ever bringing me into this. Lace needed to pay for what he did to me, the same way that Brakewater paid. And then, when that was done, I would find out once and for all if Benson was truly the man who killed my father and the professor.
I was ignorant and unknowing until they showed me the truth, and now, I had been awakened.
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