TW: abuse
Luke's POV
I've never felt such pain like I did when I saw Reid bloodied and dying in the ambulance. He told me leave—I know he did, but I wouldn't. I couldn't let him die alone.
He's not dead.
I watch his heart monitor spike up and down, the pace slower than it should be. Watching it makes my blood boil.
"Jesus, Reid," I say, clutching my head in my hands. I suck in a breath, and enjoy the pain of it slicing against my raw throat. I've screamed too much in the past few days, and my vocal chords are suffering the consequences.
The first and most painful time was when he lost consciousness in the ambulance. I shouted at him and tried to wake him up, but the first responders quickly stopped me. They told me that if I couldn't control myself I had to get off. I didn't touch him after that, and it took everything in me not to.
I run my hands through my hair before sitting up and looking back at him.
His perfect face is tainted by a deep purple bruise and small cuts spread over his golden skin. I want to kiss away every wound ever given to him. There seems to be so many—and so many of those aren't even physical.
Like the ones given to him by me.
I thought watching him in this state would break something inside me. But it feels like there's nothing left to break.
Hearing the begging in Reid's voice after I killed Eli leaves me in chills.
When I try to regret killing him, something spikes inside of me. Something telling me I didn't kill him slowly enough.
I didn't want to kill anyone. Reid's words repeat in my mind over and over and over again until it feels like he's speaking to me right now.
My heart lurches, but I don't flinch.
Reid would've won if it weren't for that fucking knife. I saw what was happening as I drove into the parking lot. Before getting knocked in the chin, Reid managed to land multiple punches on Eli.
Footsteps fill the hall, and I look up, wondering if yet another nurse will try to bullshit me into accepting anything for my injuries. Every time someone has asked, I've either shouted at them until they left, or stayed utterly silent.
They haven't even seen the worst of it, only the blood on my shoulder.
Pain radiates over my back as I adjust myself in the armchair. The cuts and burns on my spine are still fresh, still sensitive to even the slightest touch.
It's not the first time I've been to the cellar with me in the chair, but it was definitely the worst. I can still feel the cigarette burning into my skin, the belt snapping against me, the bullet exploding against my shoulder. I was wrong when I thought my body couldn't fit anymore scars.
The thought of it makes my head throb.
The first time I went was when I was a child. I can barely remember what I did, but I can never forget the feeling of my father's belt for the very first time. It felt like lightning cracking over my skin.
Every other time I went after that was when I was the one delivering the blow or watching my family members do it themselves. To men who committed treason, to women who didn't know their places.
To children. Like me. Who refused to do the killing themselves.
He was four. My father was too rough.
My fist clenches, my knuckles flashing white.
When I was in the cellar, I remember feeling... nothing. I was an empty husk for them to play with and maul. And I let them. Because I couldn't find one fucking reason to care about myself when the only person I've ever loved was alone.
YOU ARE READING
Titanium Promises
Romansa"I love you. I'll always love you." "Is that a promise?" "Titanium. For always." All Reid has ever wanted was to find his place in the world. Then he finally does. With Luke. But everything is cut short when Luke's past comes back to haunt him. To f...
