2. Chapter 2- Nyx

The suns stream through the cracks of my makeshift home, waking me up in one of the worst ways possible. I hate the sunshine. I can't hide in it. It leaves me exposed, and everyone can see my scars — not that I care. However, there are those brave few who ask questions.

I groan with every muscle that screams and complains. I need a good bath and a warm meal, but only one is obtainable. So, I pack my things to head for the river.

I put on the stupid dress that is considered ‘acceptable' day attire for women. I don't bother with the stockings and slippers; my boots are perfectly fine. No one will be under my skirts to say otherwise.

Looking around the small space, I realize I am at the point of needing to do some washing. Actually, by the smell, I may have waited too long. Everything smells like old blood, dirt, and sour onions. I stuff my soaps and inks into my bag, along with my soiled clothing.

Satisfied that I have everything I need, I lift the thin wood slab covering the window and wait for my eyes to adjust to the bright light to ensure no one is around the tower's base. It has been abandoned for years, but I would rather be cautious than too comfortable. That is how you get killed, and I can't allow that until my work is done.

Relief fills me every time I realize that my home is still unknown. It makes it easy and almost enjoyable to sling the bag over my shoulder, grab the rope anchored to the ceiling, and propel down the stone wall. It's still mine, and I don't have to kill anyone close to home. Too bad.

I have lived in attics, basements, trees, cupboards, anywhere I could fit for the night. Never staying in the same place twice because it is safer to move around, especially after a kill. And as hard as I tried to stay away from this place, scared of the memories it might bring back when I accidentally came across it one night, I knew this would be my safe space.

There was a staircase that accessed the top, but I blocked it off within the first week of staying here. And it is good that I did it then because now it is completely encased in the thick vines, keeping it hidden from prying eyes. And no one travels this far to the edge of the city. ‘It's too dangerous,' ‘Those ruins are cursed,' and ‘No one in their right mind would ever travel out there'. Fortunately for me, I'm not in my right mind. because now I have shelter, and don't have to look over my shoulder constantly for a threat.

I groan as I land hard on the ground and ignore the dull pain while securing the bag over my shoulder. Luckily, the river isn't far. I haven't eaten in a few days, and it's beginning to wear on me physically. Tonight will have to be only reconnaissance on my next target and a search for some kind of food. Anything will do. Well, not anything. I will never consume blood like the Keryth. I may be a bit desperate, but not that desperate.

Thank the Being Above that it rained recently. The river is flowing fast, which means it will take less effort to wash out my clothes.

I hold my breath as I take out my all-black attire: trousers, button-up shirt, cloak, hood, cap, scarf, underwear, and chest binder. Yep. I definitely waited way too long to wash them this time around. Dunking them into the water proves that they were more saturated with blood than I initially thought. The dark color hides my crimes well. I need at least one more of each item to make this all easier. I hate putting them on the night of wash day; they are always still somewhat damp.

Maybe I will take a turn around the market and see what I can snatch today. It has been a while, so their guard should be down. I might even get my hands on some bread or fruit. I also need more soap and ink.

Once the last item is washed, rinsed, and laid out to dry, I strip and wade into the cold water. Despite my intense shivering, I let down my hair and dunk underwater. It feels incredible to finally take my long hair out of the braid. I would keep it down more, but the inks would fade and crack faster. And I don't have the time to keep applying it. And shop owners would notice if their expensive items disappeared more frequently.

Before resurfacing, I make sure my all my hair is wet and groan loudly as I scrub my scalp vigorously with the soap bar. I miss bathes. It has been years since I have had one. I believe it was before my parents were viciously taken from me. And then the years I spent—

I trace the scars on my arms. The long slashes crisscross and mask the past. I try not to think of those dark years. Of the pain. The screams. The blood…but I must allow myself to dwell on them for a moment. To remember why I am so fucked up. And once my perspective is back in place, I throw those memories back behind the walls until I need them again.

I dunk under the water and do just that while rinsing the suds from my hair. And I wait until the burning in my starving lungs replaces the burning of threatening tears before I surface once again.

I grab the ink from the bank and coat my hair to hide its true color. Walking around with icy white hair wouldn't be a good idea in my line of work. It makes it easy to become a target and recognizable. People would ask questions I don't want to answer: ‘Why do you have white hair?' ‘Are you sick?' ‘Who do you think you are being that different?'

If they only knew.

But besides that, it also effectively keeps HIM from recognizing me.

He always loved my white hair. So much so that he cut it all off and kept it. What he does with a mass of hair, I don't know, and I don't care to find out. I just know that if he ever has the chance to get his hands on me, I will kill myself before I suffer at his hands again.

The stalls of the lower market are crowded today. Idiots, both women and men, scramble around like they have all the money in the world to spend. When, in truth, they are completely broke. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

They are the Reckless, not quite the scum of the Kingdom, but barely above it. Only the Keryths and Royals have enough money to live comfortably with extravagant luxuries. The Dutifuls are better off than the Reckless, but that is only because they are willing to feed the Keryth whenever they demand it. So, the Keryth give them ‘special' privileges.

I am Forsaken. An orphan. A scourge to society. As low as you can get—just how I like it.

"Fresh bread!" the baker shouts as he walks around with a tray laden with steaming loaves.

"Only two rupiah for a skirt's worth of fabric," the seamstress's squeal is piercing despite the loud hum of voices.

"I need six eggs," a mother whines as she struggles with her crying infant.

Body odor, muck, filthy animals, and waste perfume the air, making all the offered food less appealing. The sight of the fruit riddled with black spots and swarmed with insects that cover the stalls doesn't help. Why waste the good food on the measly Elani in the lower city ring?

A man bumps into me right before I grab the least speckled ortticot. Typically, I wouldn't give it a second thought, especially with this kind of crowd, but his smell—I know that smell. It is a mixture of musk, dirt, and a spice that burns the back of my nose—something I'll never forget.

I spin to find HIM. To finally know his face. But he is gone, blended in with the crowd. My breathing turns into quick gasps, and rage pours through me. I have worked too hard not to have this response.

Calm down, Nyx. You are no longer a pet.

I take a few calming breaths and look down at my hands to remind myself that the chains are gone. I shake my head and push through the bodies. Slipping a shawl from a stand, I climb the stairs toward the Dutiful market. Wrapping the shawl around my shoulders, I tuck my braid neatly into a bun, and feigning an air of importance, transforming me into a lady by their standards. The dull colors of my dress will keep eyes off of me and help me blend into the surroundings.

Carefully, I walk through the stalls and mentally pick out each item I need before getting near it. And when the merchants turn their backs, I deftly grab the item and place it in my bag without being noticed.

Before the suns are at their peaks, I obtained a new black tunic, cloak, undergarments, socks, laces for my boots, more rope, three different types of soap, a small wheel of cheese, a loaf of bread, and a jar of jam. I would grab more, but my bag is already heavy enough, and I'll need to climb back up the tower.

It was a successful day despite my close encounter with HIM. Why was he in the lower city? Was he looking for his next victim? Was he searching for me? If I weren't such an idiot, I would have finally been able to see his face.

You fucking idiot! Rule number one: Always keep your guard up!