May Death Do Us Part | RB ✔︎

FOURTEEN ☆ BLACK

TW: mentions of self harm / show of scars

Mona's been in the emergency wing for three days, unmoving. Three days since the doctors told me that they weren't sure if she would make it.

I cried last night, for the first time since being resurrected. The fear of losing Mona is too strong for me to manage in a healthy way.

I gave all of my knives to Charlie and told him to lock them somewhere I wouldn't find them. I've been retracing old scars that litter my wrists in thin white lines.

Now, I sit in the chair beside her bed, her limp hand in my own. Her skin is paler than usual and it kills me to see her like this.

Mattheo left the morning before last, but not without a black eye and a busted lip. I told I'd rip him apart if he hurt Mona, and I was restraining myself. He outed some of Mona's darkest secrets. And, despite wanting to follow through with my words, I needed her to explain first.

"I hate you." I whisper, shaking my head with a playful smile. "Fucking getting me attached and making me worry."

A knock at the door has my head twisting in a way that pains my neck.

The heavy wooden door cranes open and in hobbles Aurelia, still limping from when she managed to slice her leg on the shattered glass. She waves awkwardly, then trying to play it off as scratching the back of her neck.

"Uh... hi." She smiles widely.

I huff a laugh at her discomfort, then wave back. "Hi."

She limps towards me and I stand up, pulling the chair out for her to sit down.

"Did the others send you down here?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows with a frown.

She sits carefully in the seat, her eyes on Mona the entire time. "Yes."

She smirks. "I wasn't supposed to tell you that, but I feel as if you could use a little honesty right now."

I nod once, despite the fact she can't see me. "Thanks."

She hums in response. "There's a fight was called in the pit today. Charlie and Fang—his Bulgarian Night Crawler—against Vinny and Spike—his Japanese Thorn Back." She looks up at me with a soft smile. "Sitting down here with her isn't going to get her up any faster. She still requires rest." She looks back down at Mona. "You should come to the fight. It'll give you a better understanding of dragons, and, maybe, take your mind off of things."

I frown. "Maybe. I'll think about it."

I'm truly not sure how Aurelia manages to convince me to follow her to the arena.

The arena itself is in the basement, carved out of a mountain. It's four stories deep, bleachers made by marble and caged in by dragon-scale chains. Beneath the floor is a drop inside the arena, one that would kill any witch or wizard, but more likely to severely harm a full-fledged dragon.

Two vent-like doors cave into the walls at the top of the arena, dim flickers casting illuminations onto the rocky wall behind the metal bars.

I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek, examining the walls of the room, the cracked stone slabs pushed high into the ceiling and looking almost as if they'll tumble out of place at any given second.

Aurelia sits beside me, her eyes on the ring. Her elbows are on her knees, her fingers slotted through one another and holding her hands pressed to her mouth, her thumbs against her pursed lips.

I look over my shoulder at the sound of hushed whispers, both of them glaring holes into Aurelia's head and—by association—mine.

I pull a disgusted face, returning back to my original gaze. Aurelia snorts a laugh, bumping her shoulder with mine.