Inception {Dreamnotfound}

20 | Escape | 20

-Zak's POV-

"What did you just call me?"

The lights begin to flicker above, sparking to life for a few seconds at a time before dying out again. "I called you Bad," I mutter, failing to find any more anger towards him in a moment like this.

My gaze drifts between the grey splotches dotted across his skin, knowing I'm responsible for them. They're fading, slowly, but I notice a few scars left behind under the darker marks, some so deep they look almost black.

I let Darryl figure out where he is by himself, watch him scan the room, cringe at the mess beside him before settling back on the figure stood by the door.

"Which one of you told him?" he asks to them, earning no response. "You know what, no, I don't care. Just... go somewhere else." A 'yes sir' is muttered from behind me before someone leaves, closing the door behind them.

"How did they find you?" Darryl asks into the darkness, signalling for me to join him under the light that's somehow still working. I'm almost thankful that most of them are broken, shielding what lays in the corner almost completely from view.

I edge around it when approaching my soulmate, force myself to meet his hollow eyes. They quickly start to flood with colour again as soon as they settle on me, filled with nothing but concern, unlike before.

"Zak, muffin..." Darryl mumbles sweetly, and my heart breaks at the nickname. I find myself once again helpless when he's looking at me like that, and it's like the first day all again, like I'm falling for him all over again. It's strange how short and long a month can feel at the same time, like he's been there the whole time and been gone for a lifetime.

So I don't bother trying to argue when he cups my face in his hands, brushes over cuts that I know I should've taken care of long ago, which have since scarred as a result.

"What happened to you?" he asks bitterly, but the harshness in his tone isn't aimed at me, rather at whatever did this to me. "You won't like the answer," I mutter, hissing when his thumb brushes over a fresher cut. Darryl quietly apologises, ruffling my hair lovingly before asking, "and why is that?"

"Because it was them." I signal to the door, to the people in the next room over. Darryl follows my gaze, his hands falling limply from my face upon realising. "You mean... they did this to you?"

"It was always them that hurt me."

Something that I've never seen from him before flares in Darryl's eyes at my confirmation. Malice, a burning desire to hurt whoever hurt me. My own weak smile is filled with malicious intent when I tell him, "I think you'd be better off asking them why", watch realisation hit as he sifts through memories of me with even more bruises, more marks I'd always disregarded as 'just work stuff'.

A few seconds later, Tubbo opens the door nervously, horror in his eyes with his mouth slightly agape. "What happened-" he stutters, and I suddenly remember what's still in the corner of the room.

His eyes fall from the mess to Darryl, who quietly orders someone to remove the body while I try to stand in the way of Tubbo's view. "I've seen a dead body before," he quips under his breath, yet still breathes a heavy sigh of relief once the mess has been removed.