Oh god, what have I done. I was not born an heir to King Arthur’s throne, but I deserved him. Oh, my heart. There is no blood, yet it beats so loudly. I am an evil thing, but not purely. Lord knows I meant no harm. I swear it, I meant no harm when I released my hellhound’s leash. And he is gone? Dead? With no time for a formal goodbye? Where should I place this love? This longing to have him by my side?
I cannot bring myself to be outside where my little king lies, surrounded by votive candles, and a congregation of the neighborhood cats that adored him, while he barely tolerated them. He does not move; he is so still. Not a breath to give his girl. I have failed at protecting what I loved most. Now, all that remains is the pain, so I will guard it jealously. Whatever happiness I knew, is tangled up in his fur and his weather paws. He is cold and rigid, but death could not remove my beast’s majestic beauty.
Child of mine, little thing, I will carry you always. I will carry you, the way you carried me. Just as soon as the sound of the impact that took you away leaves my head, I will fill the space with every memory we made. I would steal the hours away from the undeserving, and give them to you, my Ruey.
If you combine every nightmare I have ever had, the terror I feel now is still much greater.