There was so much blood.
I backed away from the corpse, growing paler and paler by the second. Bile rose in my throat from the alcohol and nausea. I held it all back, folding my hands on my knees.
I'm so, so stupid. I just killed—no, murdered—a lord. An actual lord.
They are going to kill me.
They would bind my feet and hands at all sides, pulled by the hands of horses until I'd be ripped apart. Stretched to fucking death.
The scoffing of feet had me stiffening.
"The fuck happened, Taj?"
Slowly I raise my chin, looking at him. Dewey holds a bottle that looks expensive and two glasses in the other hand. So many emotions cross his features, but the first one is worry.
He sets down the bottle and the glasses at the table. Then crouching down to his feet, folding his arms around me. He's not as tall as me, but he manages to wind his arms around me.
I shake, my collapse is imminent. The tears that were brimming are now falling. Intend to crush me until there's nothing left.
He holds me through it all. Even when I try to jerk from his hold, he holds me until my breath is steady and I can finally breathe. Keeping his hands on me, moving them to my waist, until we're nose to nose. "I'll take care of it." I nodded in answer, grateful that he doesn't ask me.
Dewey stood up straight and started pacing back and forth. He used to do that when he used to think of a particular scheme plan.
"Go clean yourself," gesturing to the splattered clothes drenched in blood. "I'll have to arrange transport outside the country somewhere quiet for you to set yourself up until things calm down over here."
Always such a fucking burden, aren't you?
The demon inside me longs to be free and have a voice, but I keep that motherfucker trapped with a grip hold, and I have the scars in my fucking mind to prove it.
I keep nodding, the nausea makes my head spin. My legs stand strong, I turn to walk away, but a hand clutches mine. Dewey turned me and held me in an embrace. He rested his forehead on mine, lingering in the moment. I felt like a fool, like he wanted something from me, to say something.
I did not. I breathe him in, this felt nice.
Then unclutching his forehead to mine very sticky one. And finally turning to the other direction.