As if in slow motion, he fell forward, his hand finally releasing my bruised wrists and the knife he’d been holding falling to the ground. In a panic, I shoved him off of me, rolling to the side and wiping my face off, feeling as if his sticky gore covered every inch of me. My shaky limbs could h...
It was the only real home I'd ever known, and yet, at times, it felt more like a training ground than anything else. I could barely remember a time when I wasn't in the fields with my father, brandishing a sword as he barked orders at me. As I aged, the orders stopped and sparring matches began. ...
