Cath
There was blood on his stiff hands. It stained his fingertips, making them darken with the sin of countless taken lives. He blinked in confusion, feeling the cold of a thousand deaths, his eyes revealing a picture of a snow-covered field in the middle of nowhere. It was quiet, so quiet, he was afraid to move. Looking around, he felt pain in his eyes, as if he hadn’t blinked for a long time, body - just a shell of the person he was supposed to be. He had no recollection of who that person might have been.
Blinking again, he tried to remember, bits and pieces struggling to swim to the surface of his conscious mind, but nothing came up, not even a single glimpse of a past he was not entirely sure was worth the effort – it was so hard to broaden his thoughts beyond the grey cold reality
