He would not let her see the bloody things that were left, protecting her even from himself, from what he was, from seeing what he had done, so he told her to cover her eyes. As he cradled the child’s quivering form against his chest, he paused. His weary, sad eyes, he could not afford to close them, rested on the bodies, the faceless things he had beaten beyond human form. Poetry, he thought, making these inhuman monsters’ bodies reflect what he knew to be the deformation of their souls. He’d never been so free, so entirely possessed by justice.
Justic & Mercy: Undone
Tale Told 