The Only Truth

She ran.

Her hair was slapping against her face, curls turned into knots, long fingernails scratching against her skin. Her long saber-like canine teeth, bursting from her mouth, extending halfway down her chin.

It wasn't supposed to go this way.

She wasn't supposed to be there, scrubbing her body clean, cheeks stained with salt and water, watching as their blood mixed in with the puddle of water. She wasn't supposed to feel so guilty, feel so sad, feel so calm all at the same time. Were her fingernails always so dirty? She couldn't tell if it was her skin that was hidden underneath the cuticles, or if it was theirs.

It was probably theirs.

---

She woke up a mess, her hands and hair floating on the pool of water hidden inside one of the mountain caves, the rest of her body lying on the dirt and rocks. Even as she stood up she felt the blood rush to her head, her fingers slapping some water onto her hair, roughly raking the dirt down as she started to walk.

Something was wrong with her. Something really bad and wrong was going flowing through her veins, traveling through her blood, and arriving at her swelled up heart. Something bad had to be going on with her because she couldn't seem to find her way around the forest.

She couldn't see to find the perfect sense of direction she always used to have, she couldn't seem to know the way, she didn't even know where the hell she was going or where she even wanted to go. Where could she go?

She was tainted.

They had stained a mark in her silky skin that would never scrub away. They had etched a heavy cross in her heart. They had taken away her soul just as she took away their lives.

She didn't mean to.

She didn't meant to tear them apart, to destroy every bit and piece of them, to hurt them in such a way that putting them back together would be like trying to put back a broken vase with missing pieces.

It was impossible.

But it was that, or her. It was that, or letting herself get sacrificed in the name of greed. In the name of what her father and mother thought was, the best thing. She had been given a duty she couldn't fulfill. How could she let those bastards take away her most precious gift? How could she let those greasy fingers trace her abdomen, her back, her lips?

How could her parents not get that? Even worse. How could her parents stand there and watch as they grabbed her arms, her legs, her head, and directed it towards their lap, aiming her mouth just above something she could never touch.

How could they?

It hurt.

Even now as tears poured down her cheeks, she could still feel them slobbering all over her body. She could feel the anger rushing through her brain as she tightened her grip around their waists, tearing down their skin with her nails as they cried out countless of curses.

She could remember how the spatters of blood tasted as she licked them off her upper lip and stabbed against their neck, over and over. She watched as they grabbed their weapons, lifting them up, ready to attack. She was especially amused when her father and mother grabbed their own, fear spreading through their pupil and circling their irises.

When they attacked without hesitation, she realized there was nothing to fear.

No shame.

Nothing.

When it was done, she couldn't even remember why she was crying in the first place.