A beautiful woman stood above him, towering over his seated figure. She was gorgeous in every sense of the word. Long hair, wondrous eyes, a perfect face, and a balanced figure. She was netiher to tall nor too short.
How wonderful it would have been had she not been the very person who was about to torture him. Astrid stood still, watching her brother with an unnerving silence, not saying anything, just standing like a statue cursed for silence.
Astrid Di Diavolo, once my sister, someone I loved and respected in equal measure. Even though she was nine years older than me, I had never once felt that age gap.
Astrid had always treated him with such kindness that he couldn't have even imagined the thought of her betrayal. Even now, he hardly believed it.
She reached into the pocket of her flurrying coat and took out a metal key. It was unassuming in every sense of the word. Made of black metal, it looked like any ordinary key, yet it unlocked something far from ordinary.
The door to his cell opened without a sound, and Astrid stepped in. Zareil's heart started beating even faster than before. At the rate he was going, his heartbeat would soon be louder than a marching band.
She kneeled in front of him and, from thin air, pulled a handkerchief. Her hand moved forward, probably in an attempt to dab the blood off his body, but Zareil shrank back in fear.
Sh-shes going to choke me!
Trauma often did weird things to people. Some fought it bravely, choosing to face their memories instead of shying away from them. Others, much like Zareil, ran away from them.
They buried them, and when they came up in an unexpected situation, people flinched like an abused dog.
"Why do you flinch away from me, brother?" Astrid asked him that with an innocent look in her eyes, as if she hadn't been the reason for all his suffering.
"For what reason do you hate me. I told you before that everything that I did was for your sake, and I would never want to harm you. Do you not believe me?"
Believe you!
How preposterous! The gall she had for saying that, he had believed her once, and it brought upon him utter ruin. As the saying went Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. Zareil would not be fooled twice, for he was not stupid.
A mocking expression appeared on his face, and Zareil, ignoring the pain in his wrists, stood. He stood despite it feeling like the world was trying to bring him down. And then he took a single shaky step forward.
Every breath hurt; it felt as if he were inhaling fire mixed with molten glass. He took a deep, painful breath and spoke.
"Why do I hate you? Why am I scared of you? The list is extensive, dear sister."
Astrid frowned, surprised by the sudden change in Zareil's demeanor. The scared little boy who was trembling under her gaze just a second ago had vanished, replaced by a man with eyes colder than frost, and when he spoke, his voice was so utterly devoid of everything, so much so that Astrid was worried for his well-being.
"Let me list just a few of the reasons why I loathe you."
He brought a hand to his chin, as if pondering where to begin. "Where was I, ah yes, why I hate you. You killed our parents. You destroyed our domain, you ruined my future, you maimed my knight, you shattered my heart."
Zareil glanced at Astrid; he wanted to see if she would react to his provocation.
"Should I continue, or is this enough. I'm going to assume that I no longer need to jog your memory."
He took a deep breath. The strain of standing under the weight of such heavy chains was starting to get to him. He was sure that if he tried staying upright for even a single minute more, his hands would break.
Damn, as much as I want to sit down and just stay there forever, I need to make a stance. I can't let my fear of her shadow me for the rest of my life.
Even in that ridiculous situation, Zareil was trying to make himself a better version of himself. If he wanted even a small shot at accomplishing his goal, he needed to be perfect. And perfection waited for no man.
Slap—!
hu-huh. What just happened?
A red hand-shaped imprint had formed on Zareil's face. It was hot, it was burning, and it hurt like hell.
It took him a few seconds to realize what had happened. Astrid had slapped him. The timing was so comically coincidental that Zareil couldn't wrap his head around what had happened.
He had just decided to stand against his sister, and as if she was reading his thoughts, he was slapped.
A pair of soft hands wrapped around his mouth, and with a rough push, Zareil was thrown back onto the chair. The chains that had been dragging him down fell with him in a thunderous crash.
Astrid stood over him with a disgusted expression. Her eyes looked at him as if he were an ant, a big one at that, and she wanted nothing more than to stomp on him.
"Stop your bitchy whining, Zal. I've said it again and again that I did it for you, but you don't fucking understand. Is it that hard for you to process information? Useless numbskull."
"Wh-what the hell. You expect me to actually believe you?"
He was angry, unnaturally so. He had met many hypocrites in his life; he, too, was a hypocrite, but his sister eclipsed all boundaries. No, it was more like they didn't exist for her, as if she never cared for what others thought.
I want to punch her.
The thought was insane in every sense of the word. He, a captive, wanted to punch his captor. He hadn't even moved before he was kicked.
The vamp of her boots connected with his jaw, and he flew through the room like a bullet, crashing into the far wall of the cell.
The chains followed him as if they were weightless, which was ironic considering they weighed more than a bull.
Dust fell from the ceiling, and the cracked walls cracked further, imprinting Zareil's body as if to remember he had once been kicked into them.
Blood and spit flew from his mouth, along with some of his teeth.
Damn her.
He had no idea of what was going on and how he got where he was, and now, on top of that, he had been kicked with enough force to kill most. It was a miracle his jaw was still connected.