AM I BROKEN

Behind him, the beast drew closer, its eyes like voids. Just a few feet away now. Still the elevator stayed still. And the doors were open.

Just as the beast came within arm's reach

Ding.

The elevator chimed. The doors began to slide... But it was too late. The beast was already inside.

Atop what remained of the bank's fractured rooftop, the rust-bitten elevator released a final chime as its dented doors parted with a hiss. Daxon, who was lying there barely breathing, hardly opened his eyes, bleary and bloodshot.

When the beast had entered the elevator, the doors had shut, trapping both of them inside. As the creature lunged for him, Daxon had crawled backward frantically, until he reached the far wall, his spine colliding with the rear panel.

He shut his eyes, surrendering to what he had seen as the inevitable. Thinking it was over…

thud

Only to feel a huge, lifeless weight slump on top of him. Dead. The pungent smell leaking from the carcass didn't bother him at first, he was still calming down from the tension. But after a while…

"Gross," he groaned, his voice hoarse, almost amused at the absurdity of it all. The creature's fetid body reeked of rot and corruption.

At that moment, he couldn't believe himself , he had done it, he had killed the beast this time no help, no body just him and him alone.

Now pushing the beast off him, he stood up, first leaning on the elevator wall momentarily, then limped out onto the rooftop. A few dead bodies lay there, and he noticed something odd about them.

Their corpses were black. As if every ounce of life had been drained before they died.

"So this is how I would have looked… if that thing had drained my soul," Daxon pondered.

The bodies were almost reduced to bones, souls siphoned out, their pupils wide open and bulging. The worst part? Even the crows didn't bother feeding on them.

Daxon staggered toward the edge of the rooftop, which had already been battered and partially collapsed. Twisted rods and jagged metal poked through the concrete where a floor should have been.

The view below was shrouded in crimson twilight.

He drew in a blissful breath. It was time to go home, wasn't it? He had completed his test. And for a weak-willed, he really did well. He had to commend himself.

But nothing happened.

Not even the voice. Not even the runes.

He thought maybe, now that he had slain his second beast, something would appear to acknowledge his good work. Announce his merit and His rewards, just like last time, when he had gotten a spoon.

But then his eyes swam, dizziness clouded his vision, and that all-too-familiar ringing pierced his head. And just then, he heard the voice:

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{{You are still to be chosen… and until then you will not receive any merit… because your… Aspect… is still unknown… and...}}

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The voice hadn't finished when something grabbed him by the leg, nearly throwing him off the edge of the building.

"Hel… help… help me,"

A ragged breath escaped from the owner of the hand. His face was pale, ghost-white, as if he'd seen death itself… or something worse.

Daxon jerked his foot away, heart skipping so violently it felt like the beast had returned to snatch his soul. His eyes shot wide open, alert. He could swear his hair stood on end, just like the fur on that creature he had just fought.

Then he looked at the man.

And something else seared into him, not fear, no. Something darker and deeper, he couldn't quite sort it out. But he would never forget that face

His tormentor.

The person that had made him go through tough series of taekwondo classes with his dad. The same person who humiliated him in school, crushed his self-esteem, and made him believe he was nothing.

Probably the reason they called him weak-willed.

"Malfoy," Daxon sneered.

"Please help me! Just pull me up! Please… those things… they want me. They want us," Malfoy stuttered.

He was hanging from one of the rods on the broken rooftop edge, and his hands were already sweating.

Just then, as he said "us," Daxon saw that his little sister clung to his leg tightly, Tear-streaked and trembling.

He wondered how he had managed to climb to that extent with his sister clinging to his foot that way, but then, seeing almost about hundreds of beasts that were all lined at the base of the building, the thought left his head.

His eyes shifted from the abyss below to the pleading face above it.

Daxon didn't just see him, he saw a tormentor, and for all he knows, he is not so different from that beast he had just slain. His unremorseful eyes stared blankly at Malfoy as he said:

"You know, for a bully like you to one day ask for my help is not what I thought I could ever fathom,"

His voice very chilly and impervious as he continued,

"How foolish of you to think I would help you… No matter how I want these things not to take the souls of people, I wouldn't mind leaving you to their spare... because I doubt there is still a soul in you."

Malfoy was hanging barely, and those words had hit him so hard that they sent out tears to his eyes, not just any kind, the hot ones.

"Please, Dax, I beg you. You can leave me to die, but my little sister... sh-she is nine, and she is all I've got."

Daxon felt for him, not him precisely, but for the little girl. Indeed, he should save her and not punish her for the sins she didn't commit, yes, she was a passenger in her brother's sins..

But the main reason why he felt for her was because of what he was about to do.He bent down and looked into the deranged eyes of Malfoy, a mischievous grin lining his face. He said:

"None of you deserve to live. She is just as bad as you are. Even if she isn't, you have tainted and painted her with your filth."

He held Malfoy by the hand, his face stern now, and the smile gone. It was as if anytime he looked at him, memories of his torment crept into his head. And then, with finality in his tone, he said:

"Just know that I would do this over and over again."

His eyes darted toward Malfoy's sister's wet eyes as sympathy came to his soul but... He pulled Malfoy's hand off the rod. With a loud yell, they fell. The sound echoed. And then, silence. Followed by a sickening splatter below.

They both were dead, horribly.

Daxon stood up as a kind of unexpected sensation engulfed him. He didn't feel sympathy, neither did he feel remorse. He had just killed an innocent girl, or did he? But he felt good. It was the best feeling he had ever gotten in his life.

"What is this?... am I broken?", he thought but...

It was as if a very huge weight was lifted off of him. Clearly, he hadn't thought of it, what if that was the test? What if he was meant to forgive and save them instead? And with that thought,

The sky above rumbled violently, and the already dark weather seemed to darken as loud storms erupted with velvety red lightning written all over it. Then, from within the storm, a horde descended, a flutter of what looked like bats.

They came in a swarm and rushed toward Daxon. Thoughts drifted across his head, had he maybe failed and was now doomed to hell for eternity? Maybe that was his ride to hell.

Meanwhile, what he had dreaded the most was happening. About hundreds of the beasts that were all down below the building had started climbing, furiously. They had sensed him, since nothing would have thrown somebody down from that height except somebody else was there.

He stood there and accepted his fate but still didn't feel remorse. If given a chance, he would do it again, even if it meant going to hell over and over again, or even if the beasts got him first. Anyone, but he would still do the same thing to Malfoy.

The bats had now swooped down on him, their wings beating hard against him as they swam around him. But what happened next was so breathtaking…