but Red is mine [vegaspete]

To cause pain

"So you want me to send you in to die?"

***

Pete was seven the first time he felt it. A quick twinge across his back that left a long lash of pain behind. It wasn't the worst thing. It certainly didn't hurt the first time. But then it happened again, and again, in quick succession, landing precisely on that same spot, causing him to get up from his sleeping mat. He arched his back, reaching behind him to bat away the problem.

But there was no one there. No one was hitting him.

As much as the pain grew and the hits continued to hit, there was no there for Pete to fight. By the time the lashes stopped landing, Pete was breathing hard, crouched in a corner, weeping quietly so his grandmother wouldn't wake up and come to investigate.

This was a private matter. He understood that. This was between him and his soulmate. He couldn't bear the thought of a girl, somewhere so far away, being beaten at night, for whatever reason. And at the same time, he couldn't bear his grandmother looking at him with pity, because there was nothing she could do.

She couldn't stop the beating. She could only watch. And it wasn't as if she could salve the wounds if she had no idea when the beating would stop.

So, he kept it quiet.

"It'll be alright," he whispered to himself, patting his back and praying that his soulmate could hear him, could feel him. "We're fine now. It's over."

Of course it wasn't.

The next Thursday, in the middle of the night, Pete felt the lash again and he quickly woke, retreating to the far corner of his room so that his grandmother wouldn't hear him crying, from across the hall. He'd thought it would be a one-time thing. But it continued to happen. Every Thursday, just like clockwork, to the point that Pete stopped going to sleep.

The pain would wake him and keep him awake till morning. It made sense to prepare himself on Thursdays, with a jar of warm milk, balms for his sores and story books to read to his soulmate. Whoever the girl was, she would never be able to hear him. But if Pete could calm himself and take away his own fears, then he wouldn't add to her fears.

On and on, he'd read, flinching as the lashes landed on his back. He'd calm himself with happy stories, and rile himself up with funny ones. His soulmate was living a rough life that culminated in weekly, Thursday beatings. Pete only had to do his part to help.

As the weeks grew into months, and the months grew into years, the lashes got heavier, thicker. They landed harder, cutting into his skin, sometimes to the point that Pete bled. But he could take it. He could bear the pain. After all, somewhere far, far away, a little girl had to live with this, too.

One day, when Pete turned twelve, the whippings stopped. He'd slept all day and woken up to prepare his milk and stories, positioned himself in his corner and waited for the agony to come.

But the lashes never came again.

***

"My plan is all ruined because of you."

***

Fucking Ken.

After all they'd been through. After everything Khun Korn had given to all of them, the opportunities he'd afforded them, it was unbelievable to imagine how Ken was bought.

It couldn't have been the money. They were paid well. It couldn't be safety. The second family went on more dangerous missions. It couldn't be prestige or power. The dynamics were set with too many people above Ken for him to truly believe he'd get any sort of power.