Marcus confrontation/his POV

Your father stands there with his head in his hands. The head I severed.

Your face is distorted by pain. Pain that I caused.

Why does my stomach feel like it's missing something?

I… There's something coarse in my throat. I try to swallow, but find that I can't.

Am I caring about this?

Why should I? There are so many that I've killed. Am I going to brood for every single one of them? 

Ridiculous. Utter stupidity.

My gaze escapes from your father. For some reason I can't watch the two of you.

What is he doing here, anyway? Stupid, proud man. He should've kneeled when he had a chance. He knew what would happen.

Just then, he disappears. You're left there, your hand touching air. 

The look of utter helplessness makes me wish that I could… help you.

"Was that your—"

I don't know why I'm asking. Of course it was.

Your gaze darts to me, the palm of your hand hovering over your sword.

Of course you'd want to kill me.

That could be for the best.

"I'm… sorry," I finally say, knowing it's expected of me. It's not enough. Both of us know it. Am I even sorry? I did what I had to do. Is that my excuse?

Soft

    "I saved you once before," I hear myself saying, trying to justify myself. "When you were hiding. I saw you." 

    Does it make me a better man?

    Your shake your head, clearly confused by the information. "But… Why wouldn't you alert the other murderers?" 

    I look away. Why are you making me explain this? Why don't you just yell at me and let both of us be done with it.

    You wait for me to answer.

    Finally, I say: "I didn't feel like it."

    Silence falls between us. The way you look at me is exactly how I feel, as if you're not sure you heard me correctly. The words sound wrong, like I should say more. 

    I really didn't feel like killing you. How else could I explain it? What more do you want?

    You speak slowly, accusing me: "But you felt like killing my family?"

    I take a sharp breath. No. I don't feel like killing families.

    I…

    "What's going on here?"

    Floyd's voice saves me from answering any more of your questions.

    Thank Apollo. Thank the gods.

    I start to leave but there's something preventing me. As if I should say something more. Do something. You're there and you look like you need something. Do you need me to leave or stay or...?

   Finally, I manage to tear myself from you. My step is unusually heavy and I don't feel good at all.

   I'm… I wish mom was here.

Harsh

    "You're sorry!" You snarl at me.

    You don't buy it. Of course you don't. But your tone irritates me more than it probably should. Do you not know how hard I've worked to keep you alive? You've been insolent and disobedient, you should be dead. 

    "Why do you think you're alive? It's because of me." My words are harsher than I meant them. I don't expect you to be grateful. Right?

    "Why didn't you kill me?"

    "I wanted to see what you would do." It's the truth. And you've proven to be an excellent source of entertainment. 

    The explanation is not enough for you. You prepare to kill me. A strange sense of gleefulness flows through me, making me smile. 

    Do I earn it? Perhaps. You think I do. That's what matters at this moment.

    I expose my neck to you, just as I've done since the day you came.

    Do what you came here to do. Just be done with it quickly before anyone notices. I can't promise I won't act in reflex and fight back. Let's see which one of us survives. I'll give you a head start.

    Let's see what happens.

    "What is going on here?" Floyd's voice interrupts the murder that's about to take place.

    I let out a deep breath and almost chuckle. We live another day.