How to Make a Sinner Sleep

05 | delusion; is he dangerous

"May I ask," started Kaden as he strolled down the aisle, hands in his pockets. "Why my name was called last?"

Kaden Alluin Chauvet. His was one that should've been called near the beginning.

The professor offered an apologetic smile. "In all honesty, Kaden, I was asked not to give you the opportunity to have this experience. I was told you would be unwilling."

"I'm more than willing."

"And I am more than happy to hear that." laughed Raymond joyously, as he gestured to the bowl of dark water. "I was certain you'd be able to make your own decision, and refused the request. I do think I may have angered them, just a little."

Raymond continued without a care, fearless.

Kaden had always admired that aspect of the professor, in the way he couldn't be defined nor controlled, moving to the beat of his own passionate drum.

The man laughed lightly in response, serene and soft, hiding daggers in each rise of his voice.

He took a step forward, lowering his rich emerald stare at the water as he slowly approached, imagining the coldness spread through his fingers.

A tickling chill that would creep bit by bit, spreading along his arm, and then his entire body. The sensation of frostbite in winter, when his skin remained bare and exposed to the snow that melted and froze over him.

The tip of his fingers brushed the water.

And darkness consumed the entire room, swallowing all light and purity that was inside. Pitch droplets sprinted up his arms, spreading across the floor.

He stepped back in blank surprise.

If Noah's blessing had been fascinating chaos, his was a terror filled confusion.

Smiles—white, broad teeth—were painted across the walls as if hastily scribbled by chalk, hands lunging and crawling on the floor, seeking out their next victims. A jingle sounded in his ears, laughter dancing across the corners, up and around.

There were colours, so many colours. The deepest blues fighting the black, fiery red that joined in the battle.

Kaden's feet were nailed to the ground. He could only watch as something reached for him before his eyes.

A pale, bloody arm cupped his cheek, attached to the blurry silhouette of a woman that smiled gently at him.

If she had eyes, there would only be love and affection, no doubt. He could recognize her from the very shape, the one who drove him to insanity, when any glimpses of morals or kindness shattered him like glass.

Rosa Alexandra Chauvet.

The run-away princess, the one whose name was written in the late King's will. The rightful heir to the throne, and the King sought her demise.

She had run away in hopes that her brother would learn to move on without fear of her stealing his power, but it only further ruined the paranoid man.

When they'd first met, Kaden hadn't known who she was.

'Dear, you are bleeding all over! Stay still, sweet child, let me tend to your wounds.'

How kind she was, how she treated his injuries with delicate care, as if handling something precious.

He'd felt human in her motherly embrace.

The way life shone in her eyes, undying and ever burning, while she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead as he sat, limp and numb, perplexed. A child that had never been shown affection caught a glimpse of it that day.