"You should never have been born."
Cold boney hands warped around his throat like the jaws of death in his bed, he reached up into the dark trying to defend himself but his arms were too short and his hands too weak to rip away their grasp.
The person cloaked in shadow cast by magic was unknown and yet he knew well who it was.
How could he not know?
"...You ruined her," A breath that smelled distinctly of olive, from her many expensive teas which she enjoyed during class each and every single day, "You live on her ashes."
The pressure poured further into his throat, and his sight began to darken, when his hand found the knife he hid underneath his pillow, and it came flying out in the palm of his hand, cutting open their stomach.
Yet the weight didn't go away.
Her hands stayed on his throat, his vision cutting until there came a light, like a tunnel with no end.
He blinked.
The scent of cinders, the rays of natural light through the curtains.
