Comrade, oh my comrade

XXVI: 𝓐𝓾𝓰𝓾𝓼𝓽

"You think you've seen evil boy?" The dark, looming shadow pressed my boyish body harder against the ground.

The walls caved in around me. All I could see was black and even then, the raven-colored shadow was so vivid it seemed out of place. I scampered back down the hall, something wet and warm drowning my hands as I slid. Iron. Blood.

"You haven't. I'm just the icing on the cake. Tell me what kind of man sits back and watches as his family is murdered in front of him" The cold hiss of the shadow boomed against the walls. Yet it felt like fire against my face. My chest fell heavy as I hit a wall, stopping my escape.

"P-please stop, go away," I whimpered. I didn't recognize my voice. It was so weak. So powerless. It was pathetic.

A hand hot as the sun wrapped around my neck and squeezed. I fought against it, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

"Wake up!" He hissed.

"What?" I cried

"Wake up, boy," his voice gained volume as well as ferocity. I could feel his spit splashing on my face as he repeated it again. And again. And again.

"BANE!" I shot up, gasping as cold water splashed my face. Novia stood over me with a detached expression. "Having a bad dream?" She cocked her head. Those demon-ingly loud eyes stared at me, waiting.

"No" I cleared my throat as I sat pushing hair from my face. She hummed as she sat on the table in front of me, watching. My hard gaze met hers.

"I've never seen the look of fear on you before, not like this," she studied. My eyes shot away from her as I stayed silent.

I haven't had a dream like that in years. Why now are they coming back? The familiar sting in my chest and the anger I fought to get control over tugged hard at me like a whiplash.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I stood going to the kitchen.

"Your parents," she slid into a chair. I stiffened at the refrigerator. "I used to have nightmares about my dad, although I didn't see him die. I imagined the worse," her voice was empty as she spoke.

"Good for you," I replied, opening the bottle of water, my back still towards her. I attempted to keep a nonchalant aura, but the slight shakes in my hand as I lifted the water bottle slapped that attempt back in my face. Anger shot through me, trying to understand why they were back, why he was back.

"Don't let the dreams control you. They are that. Dreams," I turned to her with an icy expression.

"That's rich coming from you," her lip tugged.

"You're not me. You have the capability to feel more than just anger. If I could as easily, I'd focus on those instead. Fear isn't something I'm familiar with, but the anger I am. You let those nightmares get in your head when you're awake. You might as well start taking notes on me since that's what you'll become," she lifted from the seat and began going back upstairs. "But what do I know? I'm just a homicidal succubus"

.

"So, what are we doing here again?"

"We're looking for a man named Tony. My sweet pirate," she said as we walked through the crowd of people.

We were in this underground arena. It smelled like blood and sweat, beaten men and women laid out everywhere. Crowds of people yell and shout at the two distinct rings in the center as a pair of women and men fight.

"Gee, honey. You didn't even take me to dinner first" I frowned, stepping back as a man puked passing by. She grinned back at me.

"There you go" I rolled my eyes, following her to a corner. She stopped and pressed against the wall, watching the crowd through the poorly lit space.