The Last Harmon

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Chapter Fourteen

I wake up on the familiar, cold ground of the dungeon cell. My head aches painfully and I clutch it as I hiss and sit up. I feel the dry blood above my eyebrow, picking at it carefully as I try not to move so fast. It takes me a few moments to realise that I’m not alone, and my essence of company stands like the shadow of a statue against the door. It’s dark, but I can just make out the side of Sam’s face as he stares at something he’s twisting in his hand.

It’s a blade.

I remember everything, as much as I don’t want to. I almost feel ashamed. I’m just not sure if it’s for myself or for everyone else. I understand that mortals have been through hell the past few years, but there’s no justification for what they did. Sam knows that I’m awake, and I am still and silent for a long time. I don't know how I got back here, but part of me is almost relieved. It all plays around in my head until I can no longer stand it.

“Please say something,” I whisper, fearing what his intentions are. “I know that I. . . I messed up and I hurt Sophia which I didn’t want to do. Is she alright?”

Sam doesn’t respond. He clicks his tongue along his teeth and kicks his foot from the wall, twisting the blade as he turns away from me and sighs.

“What did you expect?” I demand. “You kidnapped me, held me hostage and forced me into this. If the roles were reversed and I had taken you against your will, are you telling me you wouldn’t do the same? That at any chance to escape you wouldn’t take it? I went too far, I realise that, but Megan was going to kill me. I did what I had to do, and I’m sorry about what happened, okay? I am. But I would do it again.”

I hear his breathing, it’s hard and loud. With his back to me, it’s difficult to predict what he’s going to do, but I am beginning to feel like these are my last moments in the world.

My voice trembles as I struggle to withhold a cry. “You were right. There’s nothing out there for me. I’m being hunted by mortals now along with everyone else. If you’re going to kill me then just do it, I’m making this easy for you.”

Sam’s hand presses against the closed door, he hangs his head as he rolls it into a fist. He starts to shake his head gently, his fist beginning to thump at the door.

“You can’t do it, can you?” I say. “I thought you had no problem with killing witches. You can’t even look me in the eye because you’re afraid of what you’ll see. Yourself, a coward.”

In the next moment, Sam opens the door and leaves, slamming it shut behind him. I should be glad that I’m still alive, but there isn’t anything to feel glad about. Instead, I let out my withheld cry, and it feels good to cry. I sob against my knees, not caring if the cry never stops.

I don’t want to think about what happened, I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to sleep, I just want to sit against this cold floor and hope that somehow, I can come back from this sadness.

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