Page 61 of A Broken Promise

Breathe. I willed myself.Breathe.

“Gods, Freckles, if you are going to pass out, at least move your perfectly braided hair away from that pile of horseshit because I am not braiding horseshit hair ever. Like ever.”

That was her command, but I didn’t move. Priya took a few more steps away from me, closer to the bodies.

Bright lightning lit up the sky and loud thunder crackled seconds later. Large drops of rain landed on my skin. I blinked. My lungs expanded in the desperate breath again and then once more.Breathe.I stood still, letting the cold-water burn against my skin like acid.

“Come on, Freckles, let’s go.” She motioned to the small saloon a few houses down, quickly walking away.

My eyes were still glued to the bodies, now being washed and cleaned with pouring rain, soon to be drenched in moisture just like me. Except I was alive and breathing and they were gone, never to live again.

A soft hand jerked my arm and pulled me forward. Priya.

“For fuck’s sake,” she grumped. “If you want to stare at the half-burnt corpses all night, be my guest, but do it through a window in the saloon. I haven’t gotten these nice leathers for you to just let them rot like that.”

Priya didn’t let go of my arm until we walked into the saloon. A couple of the gruff men scoffed and growled at our arrival. Priya jerked me to the chair.

“Sit,” she ordered, and I obliged. There was no point of fighting, not with her eyes throwing knives at me.

But was there a point to any of it all?

I should’ve been dead. Should’ve been dead a long time ago. A little tear bit my cheek when the most painful truth had sounded clear in my mind. A truth that I had been fighting my entire life.

I should have never been born to begin with.

That was the most painful truth, because I full heartedly believed it.

Priya went to the big, bearded man carving slices off a large lamb leg. I couldn’t hear her as she argued with the man, but even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.

She shortly came back and sat on the chair, mumbling some profanities as she scraped off the caked-on mud on the edge of the table leg.

“Who were they?” I asked.

“He is the prick owner that will be bringing us the best meal he has ever made because frankly if he doesn’t, I will be murdering everyone here.” Priya was in a foul mood.

“No, who arethey?” I repeated, slightly tilting my head to the fogged-up window with nothing but the small droplets on the other side.

“Hell, if I know,” Priya said, dropping her bag on the table and rustling through her belongings. “And I am out of chocolates? Oh, fucking fuckers hell...”

“I want to know who they were,” I stated calmly.

“This day is seriously getting on my nerves.” Priya rattled her bag again before dropping it on the other chair at our table. She paused, looking at me for once. My question still stuck in the air, unanswered. I watched as servers put a large batch of freshly baked bread on a dirty cloth.

“How the fuck would I know? Not my fucking problem.” She scowled at me.

Fine.

I would find out myself then. Another flash, another loud roar of thunder; so loud I could feel the tremor in my bones. Even the gruffmen splattered all over the corners paused their loud chewing and drunken arguing for a moment.

The owner brought a small plate filled with nicely sliced cheeses and breads and some jam.

“Your starter, ma’am” He nudged the plate to Priya.

“Do I look like I am fucking fifty? I am a fucking miss to you, bastard!” Priya spat out quickly, already taking a bite from the fresh rye bread.

The owner scoffed from disrespect but didn’t say anything, taking a few steps back to his kitchen.

“Who were they?” I stood up taking a step towards him.

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