#isuckagain

     His room remained just as it looked before he left; tidy other than his research that lay sprawled across his desk and his old robes balled up on the edge of his bed. Those robes, once with crisp white edges were now a dingy white with dirt rubbed in every crease and a blood stain that spread across its torso. She slipped her hand beneath it until she found the hole made from the blade that took her brother’s life. A Templar’s blade.

      Anger swelled in her chest now, quickly follow by grief. A pain that demolished the fury’s fire, sucking it to its dark depths. Tears flooded her eyes, blurring her vision, leaving only a foggy, red resemblance of the ruined cloth clenched in her fists. It was supposed to be her that night but she had gotten hurt the day before during practice. If she had only done things differently during that day he’d still be alive. As the ‘what-ifs’ rushed around in her head the anger and frustration returned. She gritted her teeth as she grabbed hold of the Assassin’s robes and threw them with all her might against the door, letting out an anguished wail.