I Killed The Main Characters

Chapter 101: Burden [2]

In the dimly lit room, shadows clung to every corner, rendering the space undefined and ethereal.

The only thing glinting in the scarce moonlight was a pocket watch—a delicate, polished piece—dangling loosely from Professor Jacob's hand as he stood near a tall, narrow window.

His figure seemed worn, his once-slick blonde hair now messy, falling loosely over his forehead.

His shirt, usually buttoned to the collar, was undone, his tie half-draped around his neck, hanging like a forgotten remnant of a more put-together version of himself.

Jacob's sharp gaze was distant as he stared out into the vastness beyond the window, though the world outside was dark and concealed in shadows.

His grip tightened slightly around the pocket watch as memories he had long tried to suppress began to resurface, playing vividly in his mind.

His heart tugged at the thought of Sarah.

She was always a vision of brightness in his life.

He remembered the first time he saw her at Ravenwood, her auburn hair catching the sunlight like fire as she walked through the grand halls, holding a stack of books.

Even then, she had a way of smiling at the smallest things—a knowing smile, like she understood a joke the world hadn't yet told.

Jacob's lips twitched, almost smiling at the memory of her teasing laughter.

The two of them had been professors at Ravenwood together, crossing paths frequently in the corridors, in the library, and in the staff meetings that Jacob often found dull.

Sarah, on the other hand, loved every second of it—at least, that's how it appeared to him.

Every time she found something amusing or laugh-worthy, she'd make sure he knew it.

He could still hear her voice in his mind as if it were happening again, the way she'd tease him.

"You look like you've just endured the longest lecture of your life," she'd say, laughing gently.

"I was the one giving it."

Jacob would respond, with his usual dry, nonchalant tone, though he could never suppress the slight smirk that would form at the corner of his lips whenever he saw her light up like that.

She always found a way to get him to smile, even when he didn't want to.

One afternoon stood out in particular. They'd been sitting on one of the stone benches in Ravenwood's lush garden after a long day of classes.

The sun was low in the sky, casting an amber glow over the academy grounds.

Sarah had leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder, her laughter still ringing in his ears from something funny she had said earlier—something he'd forgotten but still remembered how it made him feel.

"Do you think the students know how terrifying you are when you teach?" she teased, playfully nudging him.

"They do," he replied dryly, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a survival tactic, you see. The less they know about me being remotely human, the better."

Sarah had burst into laughter, her head thrown back in that carefree, joyful way she always did.

And he, like a fool smitten with love, had watched her with silent admiration.

Every time she laughed, something in him stirred—a warmth he rarely acknowledged but always felt around her.

He had loved her in ways he couldn't always show.

Jacob had never been the most expressive person, not with words.

But Sarah had always understood.

They found their language in moments like those, in the quiet touches, in the stolen glances, in the way she'd take his hand while they walked through Ravenwood's halls late at night, long after the students had gone.

But then, like all things precious in life, that happiness had been ripped from him.

The accident—Jacob winced as the memory darkened, the image of Sarah slipping from his grasp.

He wasn't there when it happened, and that haunted him more than anything.

It had been a clear night, much like this one, when she had gone up to one of the towers to clear her mind.

The details were never fully clear to him, and no one at Ravenwood had given him a satisfactory answer.

She had fallen from one of the highest towers.

Her body was found on the cold stone courtyard below, lying in a pool of blood, her limbs twisted unnaturally.

They told him she died instantly, that she hadn't suffered, but he wasn't sure whether to believe them.

All he remembered was running, hearing the commotion and feeling the dread rise in his throat, and when he saw her—when he saw what had become of the love of his life—his world shattered.

Everything after that was a blur.

Jacob closed his eyes, squeezing the pocket watch tightly, forcing back the raw ache that gnawed at his chest.

He rarely let himself think about it, about her. But tonight, the memories had broken through, and he couldn't stop them.

He lifted the pocket watch and flicked open the small compartment at the back.

Inside was a portrait of Sarah, smiling softly, her auburn hair cascading in waves over her shoulders.

Her eyes were bright, full of life, and her lips curved into that sweet, knowing smile that he'd fallen in love with.

It was the only picture he carried with him, the only one that felt like her.

Her beauty had always been effortless, radiant.

The kind of beauty that didn't just come from her appearance but from the way she moved, the way she cared about others, the way she saw the world with such boundless optimism.

She had been everything Jacob wasn't—warm, open, endlessly compassionate—and that was exactly why he had loved her.

He pulled off his glasses and wiped his eyes, not caring if anyone saw his moment of weakness.

Continue your journey on m|v-l'e m,p| y- r

Not that anyone would. He was alone, after all.

He replaced his glasses and stared out the window, his vision blurring as his mind drifted back to Sarah, to her laughter, to her smile.

"I should have told you more often," he whispered, his voice rough from the emotion he usually suppressed.

"I should have shown you more. But I did love you… I still do."