TW: Violence, blood, and death. 

I told Layla to never speak of what happened tonight. It's a secret she will have to take to her grave and she understood it since she was already planning to take one with her. Still, she cried despite the relief I saw in her eyes. I don't think anyone would admit to a stranger how much they wished for someone to be gone just like so many other intrusive, uncontrollable thoughts we like to believe we did not mean to think of. Or maybe that's just me.

The more alone I am with myself, away from the voices I can only think about what is right for me and what is wrong for me. My morals are twisting unless I've always thought this way, moments like these I wish for the voices to come back to shift the blame to them. Why was it so hard to think about your selfish needs and accept them as your own thoughts?

I got home a while ago, it's barely past midnight and while I should go to sleep, my stomach growls in protest. I shouldn't eat at a time like this but I have to say eating at night makes the food ten times more delicious, especially snacks. And my favorite snack is one that reminds me of home. I begin to open cabinets and take out the fruit, setting it on the table.

As I reach for the porcelain bowl, there is a knock at the door. I grab the bowl and place it on the table trying to think who could possibly be at the door. Grimm wouldn't knock, I think but Hans would.

"Who is it?" I say.

No one answers, only a knock is heard again.

I frown as I feel compelled to grab the letter-opener knife. The knock comes again. My hand clutches the hilt of the letter-opener and I stare at the door waiting to hear the knock again but there is-

Click.

I race to the door putting my whole weight against it, I press my back struggling with the brute force of the other person on the other side of the door. The doorknob is twisting and-

My body hits the ground hard, my face grimaces feeling the cold floor and my forehead is pounding. I roll myself over blinking away my blurred vision, I see a tall figure heading toward me. I also notice how far I am away from the door.

I stretch my hand reaching for the letter-opener. Once I feel the thick jewel at the hilt, I grab it and drag myself away from the stalking figure.

A hand yanks on my hair pulling my whole head back, I gasp feeling the stinging at the top of my scalp.

The tall figure finally comes into my view and it's an older man wearing a smile, showing all his teeth. I am boiling when he leans into my face, I try to turn away but I can only shut my eyes.

"I've never met such a stupid witch. Did your father not teach you how to protect your own home?" He throws my body to the ground again and the letter-opener scatters across the floor. I crawl toward it and grab it again, and turn to the man showing him the sharp object in my hand.

His smile does not waver.

"I don't know who you are," I clenched my teeth, "but you have the wrong person. Get the hell out of my house."

He laughs in mockery, "No, I don't think so. That rage in your eyes is the same as your father." He took a step forward. "But that mouth is definitely your mother. I always knew Nicolás had his child way before the rebellion." I push into the heels of my boots until I crash into the wall.

"Get out of my house!" I gritted out.

He continues. "Although, it seems your father has forgotten about you. I would too if you were the reason the love of my life was dead. Did you know your father turned into a madman when he found out your mother died? Went on a killing spree. One hundred witches and warlocks died by the dark magic of Nicolás De Luna." 

My heart races in anger and fear. This was the first time I'd heard anything about my father. I was a bit intrigued but I couldn't believe anything this man said, he was a stranger.

"All those deaths for one woman." He faked a smile. "You know, I've been looking for your father for a really long time. Not too long ago I was able to find traces of his magic from his last victim and as I came close to catching him, I was able to feel his dark magic again." He bends his knees to lower himself. "But tell me, why does this lead me to some girl?"

He tries to lean into my face but I bring out the sharp edge of the letter-opener pointing it to him.

"And it isn't until I see your face, the uncanny resemblance of a De Luna. The half-dead eyes, the three-point birthmark on the cheekbone, and of course always using the darkest magic to get what you want."

His mouth moved before I could understand what he said, I felt pressure around my throat. My eyes widen in fear when I see his hand in my view, he is not touching me but I knew very quickly he was using magic to choke me.

Still holding on to the letter-opener, I threw my head back reaching for any air and forcing a cough from my throat but no sounds escape.

"It must be very sad to be this alone and to know that your father is alive. Too bad you didn't die the same night as your mother, it would've been better for you than what this world has offered you because the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, right, Nora? Like father, like daughter and very soon to be like dead mother."

Searing tears filled my eyes.

He doesn't stop, "I know how the world sees you. A weak-minded person who loses it every now and then. Nobody is ever kind to you. Nobody listens to you. Nobody cares about you. Nobody wants you. So, why bother living at all?" His hand moves more, bringing the crushing feeling as he expands the pain to my head.

I'm not sad. I'm angry because everything he said kept hurting me and I was so sick and tired of hurting.

"I'll end your misery." He cooed.

I lower my chin as I struggle as black spots appear before me. If I don't do something now I am going to die. I once thought to be heard I needed someone to want to listen to me but I don't need anyone's attention. You will hear me. I will make you hear me.

You cannot escape the screams of a banshee. You cannot escape from me.

With trembling hands and poor vision, I brought the letter-opener into view and he bared his teeth again.

"What are you going to do with that? Your magic isn't fully awake and you can barely breathe." He boasted. "You remain powerless before me."

He was wrong but I quickly needed to feel something else besides my throat closing. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I locked my eyes with him and used the last of my strength. I swiftly changed the angle of the letter-opener, his eyes widened as he lost focus on my throat as I drove the cold pointed edge into my thigh.

I broke free from his spell and not a moment wasted, I screamed from the top of my lungs with every burning fiber that coursed in me. The sound of rage shattered all glassware broke all lightbulbs, and all other sounds turned into white noise. My bones hummed in agreement with my wrath.

Until my body slacks against the wall and I look to see the old man on his knees clutching his ears as he shakes his body back and forth. My chest rises up and down heavily as I try to catch all the breaths I can. A stinging sensation runs all over my thigh, my hand slides down to my thigh feeling the hot liquid drenching my jeans.

I press my fingers near the wound. I'm not ready to pull the letter opener out.

"What have you done to me!" He cries out as he stares in panic at his bloody hands.

My mouth twitches in response. Even if I could tell him what I had done he wouldn't be able to hear me. He was lucky I didn't put him in cardiac arrest.

He lunges for me and I throw my body to the side but I don't feel anything or anyone. I hear something like a bowling ball rolling. I lift my head to see solely the head of the old man, I back away from it and turn my head slowly to the person who decapitated the warlock.

The rest of the body crumples to the ground and a shadow from behind emerges, there he is, Death himself.

Oh my God.

The moonlight bathes him, dressed in black with the elongated cane that holds a sharp curved steel blade towering over his head and there is blood dripping from it. My eyes travel to his face, Oh my God, my mouth parts at the sight of sprayed blood plastered on his luminous skin. For the first time, I see the God the Death, The Capturer of Souls, and The Grim Reaper all in one.

He looks unimpressed and vacant until he takes a step forward.

Grimm hits the end of his cane against the floorboard making it disappear behind his shadow. He bends down before me, stretching his hand out. I press my back against the wall again and hold my thigh.

He places his hand over my thigh, I knew he felt the blood seeping through my fingers. I'm at his mercy right now and I was exhausted, I don't think I could scream again.

Grimm holds my gaze. "I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you." My breath hitched. "I only want to help you."

I'm afraid. But I'm afraid for all the wrong reasons.