Far Beyond Fixing (Dark SBI)

Chapter Five

A/N

new chapter :DD who cheered

thank you guys for your support on this fic so far! Im having so much fun working on it and it makes me so happy to see that other people are enjoying it as well <3

Tws are as usual for this fic, but in case you want specifics: graphic blood and gore, death, implications of self-harm

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Do you understand?" Techno read aloud.

The question was hesitant; unsure. Around him, the circle he had formed of old books towered precariously atop one another–all sourced from ancient witchcraft spells that a part of him knew wouldn't do shit–and threatened to be lit aflame by the nearby candles. His brown hair was cut at the neck with nothing but a simple braid to hold it back, doing little to cover the healing cut on the side of his cheek. To his other side, he had his phone opened to Google. The millions of results from the search "How to get voices out of your head easy" glared up at him from the dim lighting.

But, however ridiculous the predicament was, he really had no choice.

Not when his...condition was threatening his freedom.

At fifteen years old, the voices were getting far too loud. It had been a matter of days since he'd killed his first hero, only moments after the brutal murder of a street rober. Even now, he could envision the enrapturing feeling of slicing his favorite knife–the one with the pretty carvings in the handle, ancient words that Techno couldn't decipher crawling up the blade–through their exposed throat, kicking them to the side as they bled out.

It was a mechanical action. It lacked any of the sudden rage that his first kills had brought, but still fulfilled the voices enough for them to loosen their hold on his mind, returning feeling to his arms and his strength dwindling.

But their root was never fully picked.

Good job , they still chorused.

A clean kill.

Efficient.

Techno mentally tacked on what they truly meant. They had said it enough times before–sometimes far from kindly:

But not enough bloodshed.

That's okay. The next time he would just have to be better. All he had to do was make a few more cuts. If he was smart enough about it, if he wasn't fully consumed by the rage squeezing his empathy to dust, maybe the other would be dead before they felt the pain of a hand ripping out their heart.

But today was not that day.

Next time , the voices promised. Give us a feast of death.

But you've made us proud.

Very.

Well done.

And just like that, with nothing but a few simple words-

Techno was dragged under.

Yes.

The young teen basked in his victory with a newfound energy flowing through his veins. He felt as though his bones had been made of steel, his skin inches thick; he couldn't bleed, not when the voices of his mind took control. The cheap red hood over his head did little to hide the deep red that overtook his eyes, covering up the brown like he was some undead creature. Some part of him wondered that if he wasn't the only one, if these cursed powers he had weren't one of a kind, if the others were mistaken for vampires.