Massacre.

It felt like the world was moving unbelievably slow.

Reaper’s giant skeleton puppets were summoned to carry my luggage. I watched them collect my suitcases and head out of my room.

Bones was de-summoned. I sat at the edge of my bed with his lifeless, wooden body in my lap. As I ran my fingers along the indents of his skull, I realized how he was a big part of my life. I grew up with Bones by my side, and in the recent months I treated him like crap. Reaper didn’t even let me apologize to him, or say good-bye. I was never going to see Bones again, and I couldn’t do anything about that.

I set him aside, and wiped my eyes, realizing the water works had begun. I stood up and slowly took in my room. It was simple, with dark floors, a gray wall, and black furniture. Toys use to litter the floor when I was younger but once I outgrew them, I donated them all. The only thing left from my childhood in the room were the glow-in-the-dark-stars on the ceiling.

I sniffled, and walked out of the room. I covered my eyes, shielding myself from the harsh light of the white walls and floor. I walked passed Reaper’s room and down the stairs.

Then I realized that I wouldn’t be with Reaper anymore, and a new wave of tears hit me. I tried to suppress my cries as I walked down the stairs, leaving my gasps for air to fill the silence.

When I reached the bottom of the stair, fear took over. I saw my trunks full of clothes by the door, and Reaper’s office door was open. He was talking, but I couldn’t distinguish what he was saying. I slowly stepped forward and took a glance at one of the mirrors in the hallway.

I stared at my the reflection of my eyes for a moment, hoping to see my irises change color, especially now that panic had set in, but they didn't. My eyes weren’t changing colors anymore. In fact one was a brown, while the other was a striking, artic blue.

All those times Reaper had paused while looking at me, now made sense. My eyes were no longer changing.

I furrowed my eyebrows and made my way to Reaper’s study. He stopped mid-sentence when he realized I was standing in the doorway.

The room grew tense. My eyes studied the back of the head of the stranger who sat in a chair in front of the Reaper. Reaper motioned for me to take a seat in the chair beside him. . . beside my mate.

I kept my eyes on Reaper, not ready to take a look at who it was that I belonged to. I sat down, the suspense beginning to knaw at me. Reaper stared at me and then turned his gaze to the person next to me. I slowly began to turn my head.

I wish I could say that his features were new to me, but they weren’t. In fact I found myself staring at an all too familiar face. My first instinct was to smile at them, because I knew them. But then I realized how many secrets had been kept from me, and he was the one person who told me that he would never lie to me.

“Howell?” I asked.

He gives me an apologetic smile. He knows what’s going through my head.

“You. . . you. . .” I try to get out. My eyes look at Reaper, but he just leans back in his chair.

A wave of emotions engulfs me and I start to cry.

“Massacre, I’m sorry.” I feel Howell’s arms wrap around me and I struggle to get out of them but he just hold me tighter as I lose it.

“How could you? How could you do this me? Howell, how could you?” I sob uncontrollably. I try to hit his back while his arms are around me but I’m tiny compared to him.

Reaper just scoffs, “Just get him out of here already.”

Anger swells through me and I try to lunge for him but Howell is strong. He can actually withstand my animalistic state and he manages to throw me over his shoulder without a problem.

“I hate you!” I yell at Reaper before Howell exits the room with me. The giant skeleton puppets follow us as we head out of the house. They pick up my luggage while Howell opens the door and carefully corals me into the car.

I feel like I’m a child throwing a temper tantrum. But Reaper and Howell have both done this to me. I’m not surprised that Reaper lied to me, but it hurts to know that Howell has.

Howell lied to me.
Howell has hurt me.

As those statements repeat in my head, I look at him, his sorry eyes catching mine for a moment, before I look away and curl up in a ball to cry.

Howell, how could you do this to me?