The Other Side of the War (Tobias Eaton X OC)

Chapter 19

"Needle and the thread, gotta get you out of my head. Needle and the thread, gonna wind up dead."

FOUR'S APARTMENT embodied the word boring. His blue-gray walls were decorated with nothing. Absolutely nothing. Storm tried her best, but there was zero evidence for her to analyze. No pictures, decorations, posters, or even small plants. It was a wonder how he kept himself sane while staring at blank walls all the time.

That's when it hit her numbed brain: a stiff. On normal circumstances she probably would have broke into laughter, but she couldn't even force a frown.

She uncomftorably laid on his black, tightly made bed. Storm's grey-eyes gazed up on to the dark celing. Thousands of rapid thoughts swam violently throughout her brain. She couldn't quite focus for all the voices were far too loud. Storm wanted to do nothing more than to rip her eardrums out.

After throwing Drew off the chasm, she just couldn't stop there. The monster had been let out of it's cage to feed on a full buffet. Storm transformed back into the part of her she swore was dead. Now here she was, laying on her trainer's bed in the ashes of who she used to be.

Correction: who she tried to be.

Storm was tricking herself, thinking that she could be anything but a monster. That became apparent when the phrase "Strike 2" appeared on Peter's stomach, carved by the glass of a shattered beer bottle.

Everytime she tried to be better, she failed miserably. Edward, uriah, and now Peter.

She knew with full certainty that Max and Eric would cover up her dirty deed. Afterall, the initiates were just disposable for them; plus, Drew was going to be cut in the end.

The torture and death of a few initates is not what troubled Four the most. When he was called into the infirmary, to evaluate the situation, Storm remained painfully silent. Storm was a quiet girl, but she always had something meaningful to say, something to defend herself. She almost always tried to make him understand her and her treacherous actions. But when Four found her, he lifeless eyes stared off into the abyss. She didn't acknowledge hhim, she didn't even move. The man practically had to drag Storm back to his apartment to help her, hoping to get at least some words out of her.

"Storm," Four moved closer to her. Storm's legs hanged off the side of his bed and he lowered himself down to her level. Her placed a delicate hand on her knee. "You need to tell me what happened. The footage was already erased."

Four's words seemed to fall on lost ears. It was if he was staring at a hologram, or a doll.

He desperately, but gently, moved his hand to cup her cheek. "Please. Just say something."

His touch ignited her skin, sending fire to every nerve in her body. Storm knew it right there and then. He was her drug, and she was a hopeless addict that bent to the will of the poison.

"There's nothing to be said," Storm's battered voice broke the silence. It wasn't necessarily regretful, just pain. Whether that was for herself or something else.

"Don't give me that bullshit. I have a dead, beaten up, and tortured initate. I need to know that you didn't just do this for fun," Four's tone was anything but soft.

The girl jumped up like she had been burned, shoving Four's body away from her. She had been completely snapped out of her numbed state by her trainer's offensive words. "For fun? What the fuck do you mean for fun? You really think I did this just to entertain myself!"

"Well honestly, given your track record, I wouldn't be too surprised," he honestly spoke. No hesitance could be heard in his words.

Though the guilt started to creep up his neck when he saw Storm's distressed expression. "You see me as one of them. Don't you?"