Chapter Five.

Death's Names.

Nothing is as sad as the death of an illusion - Arthur Koestler.

"Mum told us that he's coming, remember? Well, she told Sera, but then Sera came and told us. Isn't that right, Sera?"

I nod, staring at the tiny drop of blood in my palm as if it was the most precious thing in the world. The knife has some blood on it as well, but I'd rather not look at it at the moment.

Blood.

That word- blood. It brings fear into my eyes and a low humming sound suddenly fills my ears. It starts out a small, like the buzz of a bee going about its business or a mosquito searching out its prey, but then it grows, until it's as loud as a chopper taking off into the air.

Chop, chop, chop, it goes, and with each chop, it feels like a piece of my brain is being taken off, bit by bit.

Chop, chop, chop.

I wince, and hold my head, trying not to alert the others. I'd hate for them to be frightened twice in a day for no reason at all. But it becomes too much, too loud until I can't bear it anymore, and a strangled cry escapes me. My hand flies to my mouth, as I see my sisters coming towards me with concern lacing their eyes. Then I fall and the darkness consumes me, the chop, chop, chop sound accompanying me to oblivion.

In a flash, I'm in a room, looking a lot like the entrance hall we have at our front door, only this room had a chair in the middle of it with somebody tied to it. She has brown stringy hair that is in disarray, and she cries with her head held down. It reminds me of the type of tears we cried during his funeral. These huge wails, with breaking sobs as fat tears rolled down cheeks, as if excited to be released. It's that sound you make when you're about to lose something.

But I didn't cry, did I? All I could do was stare as they lowered him to the ground. Why? Why did I do that? More less, why didn't I do that?

Footsteps interrupt my guilty tirade, and I look away from the lady with the messy hair, towards the figure in the hall. It approaches slowly, the way I'd imagine a predator would, once it's decided it has cornered its prey. And that's exactly how I feel- like cornered prey.

I watch in trepidation as he steps into the light, and I gasp, trying to back up against the wall.

Cornered prey, rings in my ears, as I stare in horror at those green, green eyes that I saw in this very hall earlier.

"Uncle?"

"Hello, Princess." The bald man sneers and has the audacity to bow.

I don't respond, but he throws one more sneer my way, before turning to the lady tied in the chair. She shrinks back, as if terrified, and something in the back of my head tells me she is, and that I should be, too. Her tears don't stop, infact, it seems as if the man's very presence elicits more tears. Why is she crying like she lost something? Why is she crying, period? And why is she tied to the chair? Did the man do that? My uncle?

Something tells me he did. But, something else tells me she didn't really fight him.

"Oh, Princess." The man says, circling the chair like a predator. "Princess, princess, princess."

"I have a name." I say, swallowing the thick lump that seems to have lodged itself into my throat.

"Oh, yes, of course. Sera, isn't it?"

I stiffen as he reveals a knife from his pocket, a knife not unlike the one my mother held to his throat earlier.

"Princess Sera." He taps the knife on the lady's head and I watch as silent tears fall down her cheeks.

He turns towards me, but keeps the knife on her. "Seems fitting, doesn't it?"

"No-" I start to say, just as he presses the knife, slightly -just slightly- into her neck drawing blood. As he brings it to his nose to smell, he flicks the drop of blood away as if it displeases him.

"Odd." He comments, then he grabs her head up and holds the knife to her throat.

My eyes widen and I will my legs to move, but they refuse; they stay paralysed and numb.

"Oh, Sera. Take heed. No one ever gets away from me. I am Poe, the greatest warrior to ever live. Ever. That's just how it's meant to be." He shrugs, then slashes the blade over her throat. A swishing sound -as blood breaks free from her neck- sounds in my ears but all I can stare at is the blood. All that blood shed, and I didn't move; not even one.

He smashes the knife into her restrained hands and ignores the gurgling sound she makes. "Till we meet again, Princess." He bows again and disappears, breaking me free from that invisible hold. I quickly rush over to the lady, pressing my hands against her wound, wishing I'd done something, praying she'll live. But when I lift her head, her pale grey eyes stare at me, dull and distant; more so than they usually are.

"Oh no," I whisper, holding her head up, even as the blood bathes my hands like a river of blood. "No, no, no, no. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, mum."

I sob, tucking my mum's head against my chest, as I scream with all my might, "No!"

I feel the tears finally fall, and I wipe them away, leaving blood on my cheeks. How dare I? How dare I cry when I didn't once help her?

You always wait by the side as people die, a voice whispers into my head. Weak.

You wouldn't even dare save the ones you love.

You let them die.

I block my ears, hoping that'll quiet my conscience. That doesn't help and I feel my tears come down faster.

You cry? Now you cry?

I rock myself as their voices surround me, echoing over and around my head. The voices prance around me in a circle, making light of my demise, somewhat ignorant of the blood on my cheeks, my hands, my body- but not my blood.

It's never your blood; always somebody else getting hurt by you.

Their words taunt me, becoming so loud and repetitive, that it's the only thing I hear.

Chop, chop, chop, they go. With their words, they cut me bit by bit, piece by piece.

Chop, chop, chop, is allI hear as I fall into oblivion.

Author's Note:

Today I'm giving y'all two, yes TWO (SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK) Entries and maybe even more than that because I'm feeling InSpIrEd (i.e. I'm having a good day) and so Fellas, enjoy this, eh? See ya guys ; )

Peaceeee outt!