The strength of a dying King

Trisha's POV

Kyle looked so torn. And no, I'm not talking about the cuts in his flesh or the splits in his cloth. I'm talking about his inner man. One look at him and you would easily conclude that he's accepted his fate—he had accepted his death, but yet, along with the look of a man who is torn, is the look of triumph. You'd look into his eyes and you'd see fulfillment and acceptance, not even an iota of regret or fear.

Despite all the torture he had gone through, he was still head bent on keeping shut on all the questions he was asked. With every stroke of the whip he received, I felt the pain with him and for as many times he died, I died with him.

This is shocking coming from a girl who has never felt pity, I know.

As I stood and watched the suffering he had to endure because of me, I couldn't help but feel guilty.

"Tighten his neck cuff," Bernard yelled to the guards before he landed a final blow on Kyle's stomach and trotted away along with my father. I stood and looked at Ky