Chains of Negativity

Chapter 6

TW: Abuse

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Ink shivered on the floor. He was still freezing and in pain. Everything hurt, it felt like whenever he moved even the slightest bit he would be in excruciating pain. It just hurt. He had been forced through the entire night on the ground, freezing his ass off. Nightmare hadn't come into the room all night, he was busy with paperwork or whatever a king spends all his days doing. Ink was tempted to take the large bed that was in the room next to him, but he didn't even touch it. He was scared that if he did anything he wasn't allowed to that he'd get more bones broken, or limbs snapped off, or whipped again.

He was freezing, but he'd rather be cold than be tortured. It scared him, every footstep he heard outside the door, the quiet chattering of voices off in the distance. Anything he heard, anything he did other than lie on the floor could be him about to get tortured again. He hoped Horror or Cross would return, they were nice to him last time, took care of him, and he wanted that again. He wanted to feel safe.

Ink spent a while trying to activate some sort of magic. But his brush was at home and he'd been separated from his vials, so there was nothing he could do. The hours stretched on, nothing to do but lay there and wait for someone to come in and-most likely-hurt him. As the hours faded, blurred all together, so did his emotions. Ink's vials wore off, and so he laid there, no feelings, no nothing.

It felt like hours could've passed before anything happened, before the door to the room opened. He turned around slowly and stared blankly at Nightmare who closed and locked the door behind him. He walked over to and kneeled down in front of Ink. his lone eyelight met Ink's blank ones and they stared each other down.

"Sorry to... interrupt. I noticed you weren't producing any negativity, which I can't allow. It's the only reason you're here, after all. I just need to fix that," Nightmare said.

Ink didn't respond, he just continued staring at him blankly. Nightmare hummed and smacked Ink across the face, hard. He hoped for a reaction, sobbing, fear, anything. But nothing came, Ink just looked up at him with those dead eyes. It was as if he didn't even feel the harsh slap. Nightmare chuckled to himself at the complete lack of reaction, it was amusing. He grabbed his chin and turned Ink's face so that he could see the bruise forming.

"Still nothing, huh?" He asked.

Nightmare slapped him again on the same cheek as the last one. The bruise darkened, and his skull became even redder. Ink's body was shaking. From the cold, from the pain he was in, but not from fear or sadness. That was the one thing Nightmare actually wanted. His negativity. And yet he refused to give it to him. As if he had a choice in the matter.

Nightmare hit him a few more times. Ink's face was covered in bruises, and bright red hand prints. He was panting, shaking even more. Yet nothing, not a single ounce of negativity. Nightmare looked him over, trying to discern why-and how-he was able to hide his negativity away from the guardian. He sighed and stood up once he realised, mentally cursing himself for being such an idiot.

His vials. The only things that allowed him to form proper emotions. Nightmare was aware that they ran out, but he didn't think it would happen in such a short amount of time. He sighed and left the room, left Ink. He leaned back down on the cold hardwood floor. Yes, the cold virtually hurt him, but it wasn't as bad as whatever Nightmare was going to do to him. But he quickly returned, his sash of vials in hand and he leaned down to Ink again.

He grabbed the first one and dumped it on him. He didn't care what emotion it was, and he especially didn't care enough to figure it out. One after the other, he dumped every vial on Ink's head, creating a small puddle of paint below him. The pain from the previous beating along with the bloody cracks and cuts from the previous day all caught up to him at once. It hurt. Nightmare loved it, he loved the pain, the fear, and the humiliation that hit both of them all at once. Nightmare loved it. He loved the negativity, he loved watching him suffer, shake, and write in pain.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" Nightmare sneered.

Ink nodded, refusing to make eye contact with him. Nightmare grabbed his face and forced him to look up at him. Ink shook with fear as he made eye contact with the man above him.

"You look so cute like this. All scared, in pain, covered in blood and bandages," Nightmare commented before he threw Ink back down against the floor.

He stood up, looking down at Ink as he tried to hold back the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Nightmare hummed and left the room, locked the door and once again left Ink alone.