His furious gaze flickered from mine, to my mouth. As soon as his eyes landed on my mouth, his expression softened.
I wasn’t about to explain that I’d been walking fine until the phantom smash of fists cracked into my face. But it turned out that didn’t stop Tomin from questioning me when he saw the blood dripping from a cut across my cheek bone.
His sneer broke, teeth flashing, eyes glittered with his usual disappointment. “Hurting yourself isn’t going to have an effect on whether I pass this trial or not. Are you really that desperate to hinder me?”
He truly believed I’d done this to myself. Well, I supposed in a way, I had.
I scowled up at him, throat aching from the acidic bile that coated it. Gathering the soured taste in my mouth, I bundled up the spit, sick and small traces of blood from the cut inside my cheek, and spat it on the ground at his feet.
“Were you always such a hateful cunt, or was that a side effect of your little curse?”
The way Tomin recoiled at my description of his curse warmed my soul. To him, it was anything but small. It was enough to motivate his existence and everything he’d ever done.
“Pick yourself up from the ground and make yourself useful. It’s the last time I’m going to tell you.”
I could see just how hard he was holding himself together. Like I had been, my father was toying with the many ways of hurting me in that moment.
“Now!”
I rolled my eyes like a petulant child. “You could start by telling me what you’re hoping to find in the gravestones you’ve been studying.”
Tomin scoffed, hands on hips, scanning the endless field of death for whether to tell me or not. Apparently, a couple of hours of searching had whittled down his patience, so the answer came spilling out. “We are looking for the burial site of a witch. A gravestone that marks where arealwitch was buried amongst the rest who died in pursuit of them. If we find the witch’s burial site, we will get the clue of how to get out of the trial.”
“Wow, aren’t you just a smartie pants.” I exhaled, pushing myself to standing. My left eye was starting to swell, limiting my vision of that side of my body.
“Drop the attitude, boy.”
I unfurled to my final height, shoulders broadening until the man before me was bathed in my shadow. “Call me that again, and I’ll take pleasure in ripping your throat out.”
Tomin waved me off. “I recommend that you don’t waste your time on fancies anymore.”
“Finally, he admits it. I think that is the most honest you’ve ever been with me. Might as well, right? It’s just me and you… alone out in the dark with nothing but all the fucked-up shit you put me through between us.”
“I have been nothing but honest with you my entire life, son.”
I laughed, sharp and loud. “Is that what you tell yourself to make you feel better, or are you truly that disillusioned that you actually believe it?”
“I will allow you to decide on an answer to that.”
“Cunt.”
He studied me as I stood, watching the slight way I swayed. I knew the question was coming before he asked it, just from the scrutiny of his stare. “Do you hurt yourself purposefully so wefail? Because I think we can both agree that such actions would be futile due to my current circumstance.”
I haven’t purposefully done shit.
“I’d sooner die than help you. Ever again.”
The thing about Tomin, he always knew when I lied. Even now, as adults, opposing one another across the boundaries of belief, he searched the ground for the weapon I’d ‘used on myself’. Once he couldn’t find a bloodied stone, his eyes traced down to my knuckles to find them unmarked, besides the dried gore from the Hunter I’d killed.
“So you didn’t hurt yourself. Interesting.”
My blood cooled.
Tomin’s head tilted, searching eyes looking for the secret I was keeping from him. “Have I worked it out I wonder?”
“I don’t know what you’re on about.” I cleared the blood-soaked spittle from the corner of my mouth.
His eyes smiled wider, emphasised by his thin lips. There was no proof I’d hurt myself like he’d first accused.
