I look back.
Flames devour the old wood of the cottage we escaped minutes ago. Smoke and fire erupt in the middle of the forest.
Someone dressed in black trousers and a hoodie drags Reina back into the cottage as she fights and claws at his hand. Masculine hand. Tattooed hand.
My heart stammers and my legs weaken. I take a step forward then stop when she meets my gaze and shakes her head.
She’s pleading with me to remember our vow from all those years ago.
If one is caught, the other needs to run.
I made that mistake before. I ran away without looking back.
That day, I lost my only sister.
But I’m not a kid anymore. We’re not running away with Mom.
This time, I’ll save her like she once saved me.
Energy buzzes into my veins as I charge forward. My fists are balled by my sides. My hair is in disarray around my face, the blonde strands sticking to my temples with sweat.
I’m only a short distance away when Reina shrieks, “Noooo!”
Something hard and heavy hits the back of my head. I fall to my knees with a thud.
Black stars form behind my lids as they flutter closed, filling with tears.
Through the small slit, I stare at the burning cottage. Her loud, pained screams filter from the inside. The sound is raw and…lethal.
“R-Reina…” I croak, reaching out a weak hand before it falls limp in front of me.
All sounds disappear.
Reina is no longer screaming.
No longer shrieking.
No longer…fighting.
A sob lodges at the back of my throat as darkness swallows me whole.
Decimation is an interesting process.
It starts with one crack. Then two. Then everything crumbles and falls apart.
The art lies in starting that first crack. It has to be precise and to the point.
It has to be unmistakable and with the purpose to hurt.
Better yet, it has to come out of nowhere. Victims are easier to handle when they’re ambushed, when their world is flipped upside down in a fraction of a second.
Today, a process of decimation has started.
Reina’s life is now mine to own.
Mine to torture.
And mine to finish.