5/12/369
I would go mad if I was dealing with all of this alone.
Though, admittedly, sometimes I think I’ve gone mad already.
I puzzle over it all. What did I do wrong? How did I fail her so badly? She idolized me, considered me a hero, even – dreamed of fighting at my side! Surely I could have said something more eloquent, done something more convincing, to make her turn herself in… instead of exposing the entire city to the kind of danger and damage a demon like the Sovereign poses. Arien, I shake thinking of how easily someone might have died, much like Baildana’s chevalier, and how completely it would have been my fault. I couldn’t have handled it alone… I didn’t even hardly handle it at all, given the curse I was under; it was all Tomas, really. Sending for help was the best choice… but we Knights are supposed to put ourselves in the line of fire, not ask others to put themselves in the line of fire for us.
My shoulder aches so. I bruised it down to the bone knocking her door in, and then injured it further carrying the corpse to the morgue. Corpses that have bloated are… my least favorite thing. The smell, the feel, the utter foulness… the humors going to war, it seems, without the light of the soul to keep them in check or balance.
She was telling me how I was her inspiration, her hero, while all the while that corpse rotted slowly in her basement.
Sometimes I hate almost every part of this wretched world I continually bleed to protect.
