Page 51 of Requiem
Kill.
The command echoes in my skull, wired too deep inside me that can’t be fucking reached. She’s standing there, too nervous to approach now.
“Fuck,” I choke out.
Because the video keeps playing, and I can’t look away. I watch myself move like a goddamndemon. The man on the ground is trying to crawl away, his shoes scuffing pathetically against the concrete. He’s desperately trying to get away from me.
But I don’t stop. In the video, I grab him, hauling his body up like he’s nothing. And slam him back down. Hard. The sound alone makes my stomach turn. I don’t understand the words coming out of his mouth in the video. But I don’t need to, because I know what pleading for your life sounds like.
“I didn’t—” My voice breaks. “I didn’t have a choice—”
But even as I say it, it doesn’tlookthat way. It doesn’t look like I’m being forced. It looks like Iwantto kill him.
Another strike. Another.
Bile burns the back of my throat when my stomach lurches. My hands come up to grip into my hair. But I keep watching, because I know I have to. The mask comes off, and there I am. My face. My eyes…
A broken sound escapes as I stare at myself like I’m looking at a stranger wearing my skin.
“That’s not—” I shake my head harder. “That’s not me.”
But it is. Itis.
The final blow lands, and the man stops moving. Then the video finally cuts, and silence crashes into me. I don’t realize I’ve stopped breathing until my lungs fucking hurt.
“Jude—” Emma starts.
“I killed him.” The words come out flat. My hands drop from my head, falling uselessly into my lap as I stare at the floor. “I killed so many fucking people.”
My chest tightens and cracks open, because it’s not just the act—it’s the brutal way I did it.
“They’re going to think I’m a monster,” I say quietly.
Neither one of them answers me.
“They’re right.” I keep my eyes on the floor, jaw tight, pulse still uncomfortably fast. I can feel Emma there, close enough that it should feel safe. But it…doesn't. It feels like sitting too close to something I don’t understand anymore, being crushed under the weight of everything I’ve fuckingdone.
“Jude.” My name is softer this time.
I swallow hard. “Don’t,” I mutter. Because I already know what’s coming. It’s always the same with her.
You’re not a monster. You didn’t mean it. You were forced.
Excuses wrapped in kindness. I don’t want that. I don’tdeservethat.
“I’m serious,” I add, my voice rougher now. “Don’t try to make it better.”
“I’m not going to.”
That makes my head lift, but not enough to meet her eyes. My brows pull together. “What?”
“I’m not going to tell you that it didn’t happen,” she says. Her voice is steady. “Or that it’s okay. Because it’s not.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Now you know,” I say, my voice dropping. “You know exactly what I am. What I wanted to protect you from. Where did it fucking get me, huh?”
There’s a pause.
“I know what was done to you.”
