Breathless
Author: raktajinos
Title: Breathless
Rating: PG13
Pairing/s: n/a
Character/s: Kate Argent (mentions of Chris and Gerard)
Summary: Kate's POV moments after burning the Hale house
Warnings: anxiety attack, vomiting, and discussion of mass murder (including that of children)
Word Count: 498
Prompt: breathless (I got super creative with the title eh)
Author's Notes: damn thats the darkest warning I've ever had to leave on a fic before. Kate's messed up, but I love her as a character.
Her lungs were on fire, gulping to get oxygen; her legs beginning to seize up, muscles pushed far beyond their comfort. And still she ran. She ran as fast and as far as she possibly could; trying to get away from what she’d just done.
The smoke seemed to follow her through the trees, the stench of burning wood and flesh stuck in her nostrils, clinging to her clothing, seeping into her skin. The sounds chased her through the forest, over the hills and down into every ravine; the sound of flames crackling, of people screaming….of children screaming.
She halted suddenly, telling herself the pressure in her chest was from the exertion and not from guilt.
She didn’t feel guilty.
They deserved to die. To burn. Abominations all of them.
Her brother had been too weak to see that, always arguing for ‘The Code’ or for leniency. He was far too willing to see whatever was left of their humanity in those monsters; to kill only those who killed first.
She did not suffer from the same affliction. Her fight was righteous. She was put on this earth to help balance out the deviants from the natural way of living. She didn’t see differences amongst their kind; men, women, children, elderly….all the same.
Children.
She tried to catch her breath, leaning against a tree, her body existing in a confused state between fatigue and anxiety.
Children.
She doubled over and fell to the ground, the anxiety winning in the battle for her body. Beginning to hyperventilate, she tasted copper in her mouth and her stomach threatened to empty itself, causing her to dry heave into a pile of leaves.
Despite all the preparation her father had put her through, all the support he’d given and how pleased he’d be when he heard the news, he did not prepare her for this. The unavoidable proof of her doubts, of her youth-inspired naïveté, of her emotion filled soul.
She knew she was right, that while history would look back on her actions with disdain, the history of her people would know what she did was just. But there was a nagging doubt in her mind that maybe she’d gone too far; been too excessive.
She’d murdered children tonight.
Innocent’s guilty only by being what they were born into this world as.
Memories of their faces crying through the barred windows flashed into her mind, their screams of terror, their small innocent faces burning. She’d stood there and watched, her blood-soaked soul taking in the carnage with sick delight.
Now she wished she hadn’t. Hadn’t killed them, hadn’t stayed to watch.
She sat back against the tree, hugging her knees into her chest and she cried. Cried for what she’d done, for what had to be done. For the children she’d just murdered. And for herself.
She knew from this moment on life would be different, she would be different.
She’d left a part of her soul burning in that house.
Title: Breathless
Rating: PG13
Pairing/s: n/a
Character/s: Kate Argent (mentions of Chris and Gerard)
Summary: Kate's POV moments after burning the Hale house
Warnings: anxiety attack, vomiting, and discussion of mass murder (including that of children)
Word Count: 498
Prompt: breathless (I got super creative with the title eh)
Author's Notes: damn thats the darkest warning I've ever had to leave on a fic before. Kate's messed up, but I love her as a character.
Her lungs were on fire, gulping to get oxygen; her legs beginning to seize up, muscles pushed far beyond their comfort. And still she ran. She ran as fast and as far as she possibly could; trying to get away from what she’d just done.
The smoke seemed to follow her through the trees, the stench of burning wood and flesh stuck in her nostrils, clinging to her clothing, seeping into her skin. The sounds chased her through the forest, over the hills and down into every ravine; the sound of flames crackling, of people screaming….of children screaming.
She halted suddenly, telling herself the pressure in her chest was from the exertion and not from guilt.
She didn’t feel guilty.
They deserved to die. To burn. Abominations all of them.
Her brother had been too weak to see that, always arguing for ‘The Code’ or for leniency. He was far too willing to see whatever was left of their humanity in those monsters; to kill only those who killed first.
She did not suffer from the same affliction. Her fight was righteous. She was put on this earth to help balance out the deviants from the natural way of living. She didn’t see differences amongst their kind; men, women, children, elderly….all the same.
Children.
She tried to catch her breath, leaning against a tree, her body existing in a confused state between fatigue and anxiety.
Children.
She doubled over and fell to the ground, the anxiety winning in the battle for her body. Beginning to hyperventilate, she tasted copper in her mouth and her stomach threatened to empty itself, causing her to dry heave into a pile of leaves.
Despite all the preparation her father had put her through, all the support he’d given and how pleased he’d be when he heard the news, he did not prepare her for this. The unavoidable proof of her doubts, of her youth-inspired naïveté, of her emotion filled soul.
She knew she was right, that while history would look back on her actions with disdain, the history of her people would know what she did was just. But there was a nagging doubt in her mind that maybe she’d gone too far; been too excessive.
She’d murdered children tonight.
Innocent’s guilty only by being what they were born into this world as.
Memories of their faces crying through the barred windows flashed into her mind, their screams of terror, their small innocent faces burning. She’d stood there and watched, her blood-soaked soul taking in the carnage with sick delight.
Now she wished she hadn’t. Hadn’t killed them, hadn’t stayed to watch.
She sat back against the tree, hugging her knees into her chest and she cried. Cried for what she’d done, for what had to be done. For the children she’d just murdered. And for herself.
She knew from this moment on life would be different, she would be different.
She’d left a part of her soul burning in that house.