The night the Rhymer went whack

63

A mother’s love is unrivaled.

Sharissa was missing her son. Five minutes apart seemed like an eternity and the past few years had brought her nothing but agony. She kept abreast of her son’s happenings and of course she didn’t like them one bit and often questioned where did all that evil come from although deep down inside, she knew. Regardless, she wanted her son to be worldly but not become of the world and not only did that happen, he came to lead it and control it. She partly faulted herself, having had sequestered him so, sheltering him and not allowing his emotions to fully develop through more interactions with people. No love, no empathy and no compassion. She wished for him to come home but witnessing his vast following and superior power, she knew that that was a thing of the past. She still loved him, mothers always will, but he now belonged to the ages.

And those conflicted yet definitive thoughts may have been what was locked into eternity as she didn’t feel a thing. Reshod was a gifted killer. If he wanted to inflict pain, he did so. If he wanted it painless, that was an option as well. A preference he granted to Sharissa as he stood above her, feeling nothing, while staring into her lifeless eyes as a halo of blood stained the carpet where her head now laid. He wiped his brow and the corner of his mouth may have shown a hint of sorrow but the deed was necessary and it was done, confirmed by the soft tap Straffe placed on his shoulder. He looked back at his mentor, expressionless, as Straffe too glanced down at Sharissa’s body.