Chapter 10. Part 2

I had an entire second before he came to me again. Attacking. I swept toward him, my bones feeling the blade clash. I took a step back. I defended myself. He attacked. I swept my blade toward the side of his body. He intercepted my movement subtly. I took a step back. I saw his blade touching my arm. Scratch my body. I saw blood, but I didn't feel pain. I took a step back. I saw his blade almost touching my throat. I took a step back. He advanced towards me. He was playing with me, I was a toy. I tried to regain my personal space. I kicked his crotch. I listened to his pain, I listened to his curse. I attacked him. Over and over and over again. Our blades sang, the sound hunted my ears. It was touching like old lovers, lovers mad at each other — furious at each other. My world has become attacked and defended. My world became yearning for the pain and blood of that guardian.

He attacked.

The boat was rocking.

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In every step, in each move, the boat rocked. I could feel the Ocean’s movement, I could feel the ocean's desire to bring us down. Furious. Plaintiff.

I defended myself.

I could smell blood, sweat, and salt water. Everything was a mix of smells of despair and insecurity.

He attacked me. He used his speed, strength, and experience to imprison me at one end of the boat. I was an animal, I was an animal about to be slaughtered.

That moment stopped. That moment froze, I could see his eyes — soft, kind and lively. He was someone like me. He was me in another life. Not only that, but he was just like me, making what was necessary to survive, to save, and to keep our loved ones.

He was not guilty.

It was not his fault.

He looked at my eyes for a brief moment — a brief, brief, brief moment — before sending his blade to cut my throat.

I don't know if it was a joke in my head, but I can vow that when he sent his blade to my throat, I listened to him saying something. A soft and fast whisper:

“I’m sorry.”