The Line Blurs

Part 3/?

She doesn’t know anymore.

The difference. What’s right. What’s wrong. She’s tired of it all. That thin line that has become more of a blur with each passing day.

She doesn’t know. So she holds back. As she’s been told.

She watches the girl. Young and fragile. So full of life. Innocence. So ignorant. In the wrong place at the worst of times.

She sees the dirt get tainted with the innocent blood, and Clau dies a bit more inside. Claws clutching at the ground, teeth grinding as she holds it in.

She’s not to interfere.

Not ever.

There’s a task she’s been entrusted with. Collateral damage to be expected, but what is the difference. Between them and her. They that peel off the skin and feed on the flesh or her that just stands back and watches it go down.

Don’t.

She knows the voice. Knows it well. Her hand goes to the piece in her ear and she listens.

I know. I get it, but there is nothing you can do.

Clau knows. Knows he can see what she sees. Knows that he knows how she feels. Clau knows he’s as hopeless as she is.

She looks away.

Focus.

She’s sharp. Crouches low. They can’t see her. They can’t sense her. Too preoccupied with the easy prey.

Stay low. Round back. There’s a way in.

Clau follows the voice. Trusts blindly. Let’s it all go. She’s not the girl with the small eyes and the silly smile. She’s fierce. Filthy. Raw. Her eyes are sharp and ears alert. She sees it all. Hears it all. Makes it in unnoticed.

They have him below ground. A basement of sorts. She didn’t ask how he got the information. Her only concern is getting there.

She almost makes it. Almost gets pass, but there are things not even the little voice in her ear can warned her about.

Get out Clau. You’ve been made.

It is a heartbeat too late.

Clau knows.

The voice in her ears knows it too.

The last thing she hears is his frantic cry for her to run. The earpiece falls to the ground. No need for it now. She stands up straight, steps out into the light. She’s a beast. Wild. Unpredictable. They have her corner. Or so they think. There’s a reason they pick her for the task. Why she’s alone. Her senses are on high alert. Both a gift and curse.

Some days. On the good days. The rare days when there is a warm shower and a meal to share. On those days she lets her senses run while. She feels everything. Sees everything. Smells everything. On days like today she wishes she could shut it out. Is best to not feel anything. To not smell everything.

Her mind is everywhere and nowhere. She sees them coming before they move. She’s ready. She counts. One. Two. Three. Four. Nothing she has not handle before. Her eyes are sharp. She zeros in. Sees past the dark cloaks. She’s filthy. Covert in dirt and grind. She’s focus.

Here it goes.

It is the smell that she can’t stand, filthy, rotten, gut wrenching, but she bears it. Slices through rotten flesh.

It splatters everywhere. Blood thick as lark and just as black. It burns where it touches flesh, but Clau bares it. Pushes through. She runs like her life’s on the line. Perhaps it is. She never slows down enough to verified. 

Right now it’s not her life that matters.

 It never really does.