#rt40k

[Alt]She felt heat prick in her eyes. Her emotions boiling over the tight lid she tried to keep buried. It was all too much. She could feel the knives plunging into her flesh again and again. She could smell her own blood.

She shook her head, trying to break the trance. But her body began to react without her. Taking several steps back. Hands touched her shoulders and a voice called to her. She knew it was her Seneschal, but she couldn’t hear what he was trying to say. His voice drowned out by the memory of the sound of cutting flesh and bone. She shoved away.

“Don’t touch me!” She almost screamed as she ran out of the room.

She headed for the locked doors and sat in one of the corners by it. Clutching her head and gasping for air. It hurt to breathe, her chest aching from her thundering heart.

Their thoughts only compounded her anxiety. Was she really the only option for this role? Why couldn’t she get herself together enough and deal with what had to be done like she had so many times before. Her thoughts roiled in her mind, she couldn’t hear the footsteps over them.

Cool hands fell on hers, she flinched but a cooling sensation fell over her before she could lash out. Gradually her breathing and heart rate calmed. The cold pulls her back to the present and not her awful past or unclear future.