Blood. There was so much blood.

Panicking, you pushed the boy off of you. His neck was covered in blood, that was slowly running down his chest to sicker into his clothes. He wasn't moving a bit, as you pushed him away. With a soft sound, the body fell to the floor, face upwards. His eyes were still wide open.

You could see the surprise yet fear in them.

Desperately trying to get rid of the feeling of warm blood, you wiped your hands on the bedding. The red stick to your skin as if it was a mark, a constant reminder of what you had done. Breathing too quickly, you turned away, pulled yourself from the ground and stumbled a few steps to throw up in an empty vase.

You had killed someone. You and killed a boy. Never before you and taken a life.

Shaking in shock, you pressed one hand to your mouth, trying to suppress the whimpering. Tears were already filling your eyes. Too weak to stand, you let yourself fall to the ground again and pressed your back against the other side of the bed. Now, you couldn't see the body no more.

But you could smell it. The sweet, metallic smell of blood was almost as horrible as the view itself.

Refusing to throw up another time, you closed your eyes and began to whisper a child song. Your mother had sang it to you, more than once. It had helped to calm you in the darkest of times. But right now it seemed to be worthless.
Shaking, you began to cry while the moment replayed in your head over and over again.

The feeling, as the blade had pierced his neck, had been weirdly smooth as if there had been no muscles nor nones. He had not looked at you, you had not seen the last emotions in his eyes. But still. This was the worst feeling you have ever had.

Was this how soldiers felt?

Did they found any comfort or strength in killing?

How was Morvran able to do this day after day after day and see it as simple orders?

It took a long moment, until you managed to pull yourself together again.

The feeling of death dancing above your head wasn't leaving you. It felt terrible, like a constant reminder of what you had done. The feeling of warm blood was sticking to your hands. They were still shaking a bit. The slight hint of red was still stuck to the fingers, spreading a burning feeling across the skin.

Before the tears could return, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

The air smelled sweet but felt so cold. Carefully, you crawled around the bed and let your eyes wander to the boys body.

He had not moved a single bit. The floor around him had been soaked in a deep red. The blood was already dripping through the cracks. His lips were covered in a thin layer of frosty blue.

You did not dare to look at him as your shaking hands grabbed the knife that was still stuck in his throat and pulled it out. An unpleasant, breaking sound filled the silent, causing a cold shiver to crawl down your spine.

The head of the boy sunk into itself, now the neck looked a lot more broken. His eyes were staring at you.

Hastily, you got back on your legs and rushed out of the door, your hands were pressing the knife tightly to your chest. Your breath was twitching, the air hurt in your throat.

As your legs ran down the stairs, you tripped and fell down the last few steps. Struck by pain, you remained laying for a moment. Tears were filling your eyes again.

Why did that happen?

Why was all this happening to you?

Crying, you picked yourself from the ground and began to ran again. Pain was shooting through your legs and knees but in that moment, it did not matter. Blood was still running down your arm, the wound of the knife felt so unreal on your body. You've had been injured in your life before. But this felt different. It was as if the wound in your flesh had reached your soul too.

As quickly as you could, you ran to the stables, grabbed your emergency backpack and saddled a horse. You needed to leave this godforsaken place once and for all. But before you could lease the horse through the gates of the mansion, you hesitated. Herman's body was still laying in that very mansion. He had never wanted a funeral but you remembered that his last wish had been to be burned.

For a moment, you hesitated. This mansion wasn't yours. You did not have the right to decide what was happening with it. But on the other hand, it did not seem like Morvran held it in dear memories.

So, you returned to the mansion and spread all of the oils and wines you were able to find. Whiskey, wine, even schnapps. All of the bottles were emptied. As you let the alcohol soak into the furniture and floor, you wondered if Morvran would hate you for doing this. Finally, the last bottle was emptied. Lighting a match, you held the flame before your face. The light danced in your eyes. Then, you threw it and turned away.

You did not see how the mansion burned down. You were already at the top of the hill, looking back one last time, as the first flames of the fire crashed through the roof into the day. Black smoke was crawling into the sky. If there would have been people around they would have been able to see the mansion burning from a mile away.

With a little bit of sadness in your heart, you turned away.

"Come on boy. Run.", you said, ordering the horse to keep on walking. "I don't want to look at this any longer."