by W. A. R.
Please?
She felt everything within her grow cold and she eased from her chair, standing to her full height as he scribbled desperately against the notebook that rested on his legs. His bottom lip was quivering and his hand jerky as he wrote. She was angry and confused. So very confused.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done.
She hit him then, her anger and confusion taking over her. How dare he! “You don’t get to tell me you’re sorry!” she exclaimed as he looked up at her. Her face grew hot as she stared down at him as he turned his wide, sad eyes back to her. “You don’t get to feel sorry for what you have done!” because if he did, if he did feel any bit of remorse, it made her a monster; a merciless monster.
Murderer.
Conspirator.
Betrayer.
These things were what he was and he couldn’t deny it. He was heartless! He couldn’t feel remorse, dammit! He was shaking in uncontrollable sobs now.
“Am…” he struggled to speak and she hit him again. She was furious, hurt, and so lost. Why was she confused? It should have been simple. It should have been so easy to compose herself and admit that he should feel guilty…that it was a good thing he felt remorse; he was human after all. But still, his guilt only spurred her on. It wasn’t that she couldn’t answer why it drove her on, but she denied it.
She hit him a third time, knocking the chair he sat in over. She was blinded in fury, and she couldn’t admit why. However, whenever she felt George come in and hold her arms back, and watched as Buddy lifted his chair with effort to straighten him, she relented. She stood, held back by her friend, and watched as Damien once again lowered his head and began sobbing. No one said a word as they all stood there. Amber’s hand was aching from hitting him so hard, but she barely noticed. What she did notice, however, was how Damien refused to look at her anymore. He refused to look up at all and she felt satisfaction from her dominion over him. In fact, the thought was so pleasant that she hadn’t heard George speak. It wasn’t until he shook her that she was brought to attention.
“Amber…are you alright?” George asked of her and she quickly shrugged from his grasp. He released her and Buddy stepped around a pathetic, sobbing Damien to face her. Amber’s eyes remained on their prisoner. Her prisoner. She didn’t answer him, but only because she couldn’t. She wasn’t alright and she wouldn’t be. She was disturbed and hurting and pissed off. Instead, she stepped up to Damien, feeling her anger slowly ebbing away with the presence of the two men. Glancing down, she noticed how his hand was still free, and that the belt she had strapped him with was on the floor. Slowly, she knelt and got it, Damien not making any move toward her, which she begrudgingly took notice of. She then turned to him and began strapping the frightened man back down. She tightened it to the point of causing him pain before securing it.
“You are pathetic and you will not be getting my forgiveness.” She told him through clenched teeth before turning and exiting through the now open door. George and Buddy stared after her, refusing to ask questions as to what had happened and refusing to follow her. She didn’t care, didn’t even notice, as she advanced towards the Silverado in search of her daughter. She would be visiting the barn again before they left.
Two hours later:
They had arrived thirty minutes prior at the house that Rick had mentioned. Amber briefly recalled him mentioning it before…before the other people invaded their home. Originally, their plan had been for Brian, Miles, and Rick to hit the house on their way taking the children and the older or disabled to the place in Bernice that Damien…she grimaced at his name…had lied to them about. The thought only served to infuriate her more than she already was and she had to shove it away. Damn that man…all those men. Did they have to uproot every semblance of comfort she had? Was the world created only to change her into something so…inhuman? She was becoming an animal, wild and caged, unwilling to be tamed. The monster within her was scratching just beneath the skin and it both frightened her and pleased her. She wondered which part of her would win out and in what moments it would. When she came across the men they were to capture later in the day, would she try to talk to them, to reason with them or would she blind them, knock them unconscious and use their pain and weaknesses against themselves for answers? She wasn’t sure, but if she were honest, she hoped the latter, more vicious aspect of her newfound personality would win.
She watched as Cassie stepped forward behind Jacob, seemingly not alarmed, but Amber understood why. Jacob was leading her, gun raised and eyes alert. If anything were to go wrong, he would protect her daughter and it brought a smile to her face. She was grateful to Derek for having stayed behind, reluctantly so, to protect her mother and Elliot. She trusted him to do whatever was needed to be done, regardless of whether he wanted to go with them on their mission or not. She sighed then, her mind racing as her eyes skimmed the rest of the people: Buddy and Katie heading forward and searching for another room, ensuring there were no surprises in the house. George was behind her, turning to a door on the left and checking it. Rick was off somewhere searching as well, though she was unsure where, her cousin having disappeared as soon as they arrived. They were all nervous, maybe a bit paranoid. Surely a house with so many weapons, so much ammunition, would have a pretty brutal owner; and it was obvious the extent of their admiration for finely crafted devices of destruction. They were all over the house; gun cabinets filled to the brim, daggers, swords, even Shurikens and throwing stars littered the walls precariously. Still, nothing really caught Amber’s eye as she gathered whatever weapons she could, searching for ammunition for both her gun and Miles’s pistols; that is, until she entered the living room.
Her eyes widened slightly, taking them in and slowly she stepped forward, head tilted slightly in observation. Her bag slid from her fingers to the floor easily as she moved. Amber stood before the fireplace, staring at the two swords that hung above the mantle. The blades were crossed near the hilt and the blades partially serrated along the middle length of it, curving at the end to a very fine point. They were black steel, gleaming against the morning light, and she could not take her eyes off of them. They almost favored machetes crossed with a sword, by their looks. She estimated that they measured anywhere from 27 to 30 inches long, and with this thought she glanced at her hands. Why would she need them? They would be used for hand to hand combat; they were weapons used to murder, but then again, wasn’t her gun? Her other knife that rested against her thigh? She knew that if she picked them up from the wall and learned to handle them, she would most definitely use them; she would kill someone with them. Just as she had killed her family and friends with her gun and knife while they were on the brink of death, she would end some stranger’s life. Murderer. That name rang out in her ears…but showing mercy to her those she had loved and cared for was different…wasn’t it? Then again, she realized with bitterness, hadn’t she already killed someone using neither her gun or her knife but with her cruelty? Lance.
Murderer.
She was a murderer, whether she liked it or not, and so was every other person around her. So, why was it bringing to mind Damien of all people? Oh right, she figured, he was a murderer. It was who he was. There was no personality to him, no Damien to speak of, only cruel names and titles were how he would forever be addressed in her mind. She knew then, what she was doing as she considered all of this, staring at her weapons of choice. She was comparing herself to her prisoner, to the man she was going to execute, she was just unsure when. She would end his life and yet again become a corrupt murderer like him and be satisfied with it. She was going to make him pay for his sins, but who was going to make her pay for hers? She shook her head; no, she was nothing like him. He was manipulative; he was deceitful. She hated him.
Conspirator.
Betrayer.
She was neither of these things, murderer or no. And still, despite all of this, she wanted them, the fascinating weapons before her. She wanted to feel th
em in her hands, to become one with the weight of them and make them a part of her. She wanted to make them an extension of her own arms, to move in sync with them, fluidly making progress until she saved her people and sought out her revenge. Her revenge would be accomplished with those weapons; she just knew it. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach, like a wild fire licking at the insides of her, torching every nerve ending under her skin.
“Do you think we can make it today, or even tomorrow?” She heard Cassie ask from beside her. Amber glanced over at her daughter sideways, before turning back to the weapons above the fireplace. Their weapons; Amber’s weapons. She wasn’t surprised at Cassie’s appearance; on the contrary, she had expected it. What she hadn’t expected however, was the topic of conversation.
Amber stood firm in her place, rooted to the carpet under her feet. “I know we can.” Though her words were soft they didn’t lack conviction and she could see Cassie understand this.
“It’s gotten…hard.” Cassie informed her mother, and it wasn’t as if she were saying it to appear weak, she was saying it as a child to its mother, from a friend to another friend. Amber gazed at her curiously, her heart both warming and numbing at her words. Things were getting hard; emotionally unbearable and it was only going to get worse.
“Yes, it has. But we can make it.” She replied before tossing her a curious, heartfelt glance. “Are you scared?”
Cassie shifted nervously on her feet. “Are you?” she asked, avoiding an answer just as much as she was avoiding Amber’s gaze. Amber turned back to the weapons, giving her some comfort in knowing that Amber wasn’t watching her every move. She was a young woman, basically grown with the circumstance of the earth, and Amber tried desperately to respect that. Cassie wasn’t a little girl anymore.
“Yes.” She replied and she could sense Cassie relax at her words. She smiled at her child, thought it didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, she appeared tired. “Are you alright? I told you this morning that if you wanted to stay you could.”
Cassie immediately shook her head wildly. “No…I’m not letting you do this alone.” She swallowed thickly, her words coated with emotion. “I know we talked this morning…a lot, about everything…and you made it clear I had a choice. This is my choice. My choice is your choice.” Amber studied her for one long moment before turning from her back to the fireplace. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t proud of her for taking the initiative to join them. It both made amber respect her as a growing woman and she worried less, able to keep an eye on her. Cassie sighed them, interrupting Amber’s thoughts. “Elliot is angry.” And she sighed. Yes, Elliot was angry, and he had every right to be. Hell, they were all angry and upset about their losses, but Amber understood that it would possibly affect him harder than the others.
“I know.” She replied slowly, and Cassie turned to her, her hazel eyes darting from the swords to Amber curiously. She wanted to ask, but she wouldn’t and Amber respected that. She wasn’t sure she could explain why she felt drawn to those two weapons. Something called out to her about those two weapons and she wanted them. Regardless of the thoughts they brought forth, she needed them. She wasn’t sure why; she wasn’t skilled in the least fighting with them, and she hated how they made her consider her own emotions and identity, how they made her think of Damien, Adrian, and the unforeseeable but likely unfortunate future. Still, they were hers and she knew it. She knew she couldn’t reach them however and so she simply continued to stare at them, letting her mind range from thoughts of the past to the future. The present was a blur and she couldn’t really grasp it.
“I tried talking to him, but I think he would rather talk to you.” Cassie said and Amber sighed, finally turning to acknowledge her scarred and resilient daughter. She couldn’t help but smile at the young woman she had become.
“Honey, he is angry with me. He doesn’t want to talk to me.” Her words were true and even though she knew they were, the sting that accompanied them hurt her all the same as if she hadn’t. Her eyes darted again to the weapons. “Your Nana already said she would talk with him. He wants nothing to do with me.” It was all right, and she recalled his withdrawing from her and his cling to Bobby-Jean. At first, she had thought it was because he was tired and she didn’t think much of it, but whenever she had tried to talk to the boy, he had let her know what he thought. “He associated me with death, now. First his mother, then your Papa, Kyle, and now Miles Brian and Shelly are gone. He is five…he doesn’t understand how or why these things happened, he just knows that they have and it hurts him. He believes I failed him…and I have.” And at her words, she witnessed Cassie’s face screw up into something painful, tears coming to her eyes.
“You haven’t failed anyone, mom.” She told her firmly, and Amber reached up with both arms, feeling her heart swell with unhindered pride and love for this young woman, her daughter. She was a part of Amber, just as Kyle had been…still was. She would find strength in Cassie and she would be alright…she would remain strong. She already was. Amber stroked her hair tenderly as Cassie fell against her shoulder, sobs wracking her body. When was the last time she had done that? She couldn’t even remember and that pained her. Kyle knew he was loved unconditionally by her, right? She shook off the thought, focusing on her breaking, if not already broken, daughter, feeling her arms encircle her waist and pull at the back of Amber’s shirt. Amber shushed her comfortingly and though she expected the tears to come, they didn’t. Instead, her eyes remained dry as her hands stroked her child’s back, letting the young woman cry. Amber lowered her chin, resting her cheek against her rough hair.
“I love you, hummingbird.” She told her warmly, and her words only served to make Cassie cry more. Amber swallowed thickly, still holding her as they stood in the middle of the living room. After a moment she closed her eyes and took in the moment, the silence, and the anguished cries. The love. Love; it was one thing that those people couldn’t take away from her or her family. If anything, the losses that these corrupt strangers gave them only served to empower that emotion because whether her people were dead or not she would still love them. She realized then that she needed to cling to that instead of the hate that ran like tar through her veins. Hell, just the thought of Damien alone seemed to engulf her in flames of hatred. Finally, much too early for Amber, Cassie pulled back, wiping furiously at her wet eyes. Amber smiled warmly at her; a genuine warm smile that she didn’t think possible any longer. Cassie returned it.
“I love you too mama.” She replied and after a moment Cassie turned quickly and raced from the room, still wiping at her eyes. Amber watched her hurry away, knowing that she was desperate to rid herself of the emotion in her eyes before anyone else saw it. She was trying to be strong, ready for the battle that lay before them within just a few hours’ time.
“Hey sweetness.” She heard Buddy say from behind her and she jumped, startled. She had been too busy watching Cassie run off that she hadn’t even heard Buddy come up. He lifted a knowing brow at her. The nickname he had once given her pulled against her lips against her own will.
“I don’t think you have called me that since…. well, since shortly after you arrived. It has been months.” She replied, turning to glance up at the weapons, her eyes darting to the shoulder strapped sheaths that rested on the mantle below their crossed figures. He studied her for a moment and then stepped closer, arms crossed across his chest.
He shrugged. “I only used it then to irritate Miles. He got on my damn nerves.” he paused, watching as Amber lifted a curious brow at him. He looked away from her. “He isn’t so bad anymore.” And with that she laughed, turning from him and studying the guns that rested in the gun cabinet. Her back was to him, but she could still feel him watching her.
“Now, though, you are the very epitome of the name. That or Hellion. I can’t decide. We’ll see after today. Never know how it might go.” Amber felt a pang at his words, and she wasn’t sure why. Still, the uncertainty rest in her eyes and she
couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
“Maybe I am just a mixture of both.” She told him casually over her shoulder. She heard him move behind her and almost immediately she tensed, unsure of what he was doing. She tensed because she was unsure of herself. Why? She found herself questioning everything since she had woken up that very morning and within the past few hours she had yet to find any answers.
“You are. There is no denying that.” he told her and she heard the clatter of metal on metal and something soft hit her back. She turned to face him, irritated that he was making such noise. The noise was surprising and yet not. She knew what he was doing, what he was messing with, and she clenched her jaw. He was lowering the swords, holding them tightly in his hands. On the floor at her feet were the back scabbards for them. She looked up at him curiously. He quirked a brow at her. “Do you know how to handle these things?” he asked and she turned from him, feigning nonchalance.
“No.” she said shrugging. “I don’t know how to fight with them. I played around with some a few years ago, shortly after Kyle was born, but I was never taught.”
He stared at her for a moment after her admission. She could see the questions raging in his eyes and she hoped he wouldn’t ask about why she had messed with them to begin with. “I saw you looking at them.” Relief flowed over her and she sighed heavily.
She shrugged. “Yeah, I was.”
“Would you like to learn to use them?” he asked of her and she turned to him in shock. For some reason her heart pounded in her ears and she couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. He swung the swords around in his hands with skill and ease. She envied him then. “I can teach you. It would come in handy for you to learn. I mean,” he paused, glancing around at the multiple daggers and other few swords that decorated the walls. He inhaled through his teeth. “apparently whoever lived here obviously never expected to use them. They were hanging on the wall as decoration.” Slowly he reached forward, tilting his hands back just so, leaving her ample room to grab on to. She hesitated, staring at the swords. Why was she so nervous about taking them? She wondered.
