My Long Lost Mate

"I... I killed him," he said, his hand shaking slightly as he handed the heart over to Kiel. The pain and guilt in his voice were as clear as day, and no one could deny it. 

When Kiel saw the heart, his jaws tightened, and his fist clenched. He was quivering with anger, but he did not let the steam blows off immediately without proper explanation. He knew that his friend would not do such a thing unless he had a good reason to do it.

"Why?" he inquired, the veins on his neck bulging due to the self-control he had to exercise. His gaze was drawn to the heart on Luke's hand, but he lacked the bravery to seize it. He just stared, unable to believe the loss he had to experience—again.

The night became bitterly cold, much colder than it had been previously. The night was immediately filled with grief and sorrow after the loss that we had to suffer. The moon, which we had always admired, shone its light on us as if to comfort us, casting light on the dark times we were currently going through. It was beautiful, yet at the same time sad. 

After a moment of silence, Luke finally opened his mouth and answered, "He's turned." 

Hearing it, Kiel laughed. A burst of hysterical laughter erupted from him as if he had just heard the funniest joke of the century. It went on for a few minutes until the laughter gave way to sobs, and his grief soon consumed him. 

His usual high and mighty demeanor was shattered by the loss, leaving only a broken soul to scream and lament for what he had to endure. With a shaky hand, he took Ross's heart, then slumped to the ground. 

"Why?" he asked in between his sobs, shaking his head vehemently while looking at Ross's bloody body, "Why does this have to happen again?"

Luke couldn't do anything to comfort his friend, so he just stood there, hoping that his presence would provide him some solace despite the fact that he was also hurting inside. He must have realized the pain he was about to cause to his friend the moment he saw Ross's deranged state, and he didn't want it to happen—but sadly, he didn't have any choice.

The world was too cruel, and we knew it all too well. 

For some time, all that I could hear was Kiel's screams, his pain, his grief. Every cry he made was filled with his sorrow, and anyone with a heart could sense it. After all, we were all human. Even those who had become used to being around death would still be affected by the death of a loved one.

Losing someone precious to us was possibly one of the most difficult things that we had to go through in life. We wouldn't be able to hear their calls, feel their warmth, or watch them go about with their daily activities anymore. The little things they did that we normally overlook would be the ones that we miss the most. The gentle pat they gave you when you did something well, the encouraging words they said when you were down, or even the chair they used to sit on. Those little things—those were the things that were the hardest to forget. 

When confronted with grief, people tend to make an effort to move on, to forget about it. But in truth, crying for our loved ones was a way of honoring who they were in our lives as well as what we have lost. It let the world knew that someone very precious had left us, but even so, they still mattered. 

No one could tell us how to deal with our grieves, and that was okay. 

That was what I've realized after going through several losses—that my grieves belonged to me. It didn't matter how much time had passed, how many tears I had to shed, or whether or not I would ever be able to move on. Well, I needed to move on, but I could do it at my own pace. Later, I would be able to say when was the right time to do so—no matter how much time it took me to be ready.

Therefore, neither Luke nor I could do anything to help make things better for Kiel. There were thousands of words that I could say to console him, but none would ever be enough to fill the hole left by his loss. Only time could help heal the pain, but even that was hard to do.

As Kiel started to calm his tears, he said with a small voice, "You should go... I will take care of the mess."

I was sure that no one would have the heart to do so after hearing him. His voice was bȧrėly audible, so soft and frail, as though uttering those words had sapped all of his remaining energy. Leaving him alone didn't seem like a good idea at the time, but I knew it was just what he needed right now. It would be best for us to give him some space. 

Despite his dislike for the idea, Luke agreed to leave. We soon left the bloody scene and began our journey back to our room while passing Kiel one last glance. The sight of the vampire's droopy shoulders was the last thing that we saw before leaving the place, making our steps and hearts to be even heavier.

Nothing seemed to be able to dispel the gloomy atmosphere that surrounded us on the way back. Luke had his head lowered as though he was deep in thoughts. He must have felt guilty for what had happened, thinking that it was his fault that Ross died. 

"Luke," I called as I reached out to take his hand. But he pulled his hands away from me before I could do so, not wanting me to touch him.

"Don't touch me," he said in a small voice, his brows knitting together, "I'm dirty." 

It broke my heart to see him like this, and I wanted to make him feel better. I wished he could share the pain and agony he was feeling right now with me so that we could endure them together and overcome them together too. I wanted to help him. I wanted to be his solace—just as he was to me.

I couldn't care less about his current condition or whether or not his hands were clean. I wanted to hug him, to hold him closer even if his whole body was stained with blood. I didn't care. I wanted to feel his warmth on me and share my own with him. No matter what. 

"You are not dirty," I said, taking both of his hands with mine. "Look at me," I said, and he slowly raised his gaze from the ground to me.

Without even saying anything, his eyes conveyed so many emotions and truth. They told me so many feelings that he used to keep to himself, always keeping them hidden behind his tough exterior.

Was it because he was the alpha? Even when he was breaking inside, he would never show it to anyone because it was in his nature to always appear strong at all times. He didn't want to show his weakness to anyone, but there was nothing wrong with being weak in the first place. It was perfectly normal, perfectly human.

"It is not your fault," I said. 

"How is it not my fault?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly, "I killed him with my own two hands."

"But you did what you had to," I replied, holding his hands tighter. "Did you not see what happens with the servants? If you had not stopped him, there would have been more people falling victims to his deranged state. I am sure Ross wouldn't want that to happen too, would he?"

According to what I've heard, a vampire could go deranged anytime regardless of their wishes to stay sane, so they couldn't have wanted to give in to their bloodlust and lose control of themselves too. Wouldn't death sound like a better choice than to remain in a body where you have lost full control of yourself? It was a way to help them put an end to their sufferings, to get them to stop doing things that they didn't want to do.

Though it was a difficult decision, Luke did help him end his sufferings by giving him his death. At the very least, Ross would no longer have to suffer and would be able to rest in peace. As horrible as it sounds, killing him was the right thing to do.

Luke stayed silent, but his guilt didn't seem to have faded away. He knew that death was the only way to stop a deranged vampire, but he couldn't stop wishing for another choice. What if there were some other ways? 

"Luke," I called, raising my hand to ċȧrėss his cheek, "You didn't kill him—you saved him."