tw // suicidal thoughts
"Get up, Ajax. I know you can move now," someone commands.
The voice is strangely familiar. In my heart, I hope it's Zhongli. But I know it isn't. He's probably gone by now.
"You've kept me here for so long. Can't I stay in bed for a little bit longer?"
"Get the fuck up. Your beloved is downstairs making you some food."
My mouth begins to water. I haven't seen food in what feels like a millennium. I try my best to bring myself out of bed, but my body is painfully stiff. I have to stop myself after each slight movement in my attempt to climb out of bed. It feels like my muscles are ripping to shreds, the slightest movement overworking my delicate cells and tissues. I cry out in pain, but the man in the room only laughs at my struggle.
"Fuck, it really has been that long, hasn't it? Time has flown without you. Come down when you're ready. You'll see that I've domesticated your wild beast," the man teases. It's annoying that I recognise his voice, yet can't pin it to anybody.
And what the fuck does he mean by that?
I wish I could react to it, but I'm so weak. I can feel the fragility of my bones through my thinned skin, and the deterioration of my muscles. I've lost weight. I feel lighter, yet not more agile. I can barely move.
Grabbing on to my surroundings for support, I gradually made my way out of the room.
My vision finally clears and I realise that I've ended up in the bathroom. I stare at a stranger in the mirror. My hair is down to my shoulders. My initial stubble has formed a fully grown beard that pricks against my top lip. My rib cage is visible through my translucent skin. Just how long have they kept me in here?
I'm a carcass of my original self. I may as well be dead. Death wouldn't be so bad. In fact, I think I'd prefer it right now.
The razor on the side of the sink is staring back at me. What if I remove the blade and free myself from this misery right now? I'm tempted. I don't even realise how my hand is slowly edging closer and closer towards it, ready to grab it and pull it apart. That's all it would take. Forget Zhongli. I don't want to be here anymore. Everything hurts and I can't deal with it anymore and I just want to float away and disappear and—
"Hurry up, you bastard! Your breakfast is going cold!"
The blade is barely piercing my skin when I awake from my trance. I'm panting hard. I open my eyes. In the mirror, I see an uncanny reflection. I just want myself back.
I throw the blade in the bin, and wash my face.
I need to get a grip.
Swaying, I slowly make my way downstairs. The cold kitchen tile feels unfamiliar against my bare feet. I clutch the thin fabric of the only material covering my shivering body: a gown. I felt naked and cold, yet I felt sweaty and suffocated. I don't like this. Maybe the sleep was better.
"What's up with you, Ajax? You look like you just saw a ghost. Did you?" the man laughs.
I am awake enough now to know that the voice taunting me this whole time belongs to none other than Il Dottore. I should've known. Who else would be able to drug me for this long, using something even I hadn't heard of? I should've guessed it that day I heard Zhongli talking to Pierro. Only Zandik could pull something like this off so well.
"Sit down and eat."
His familiar voice reverberates in my ears, each sound wave bouncing around in my skull. I freeze, unable to make even a sound. Somehow, my muscles feel even stiffer. I unconsciously hold my breath. Am I scared? What is wrong with me? I look to my right where Zhongli stands, looking at me confused. His hair is tied back, and he's wearing a dark brown shirt and a navy blue apron that says "kiss the cook". He looks so natural, as if he belongs here. But he doesn't belong here. Just what did Zandik do to him?
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FanfictionTW // mentions of staged suicide, murder, death, sharp objects, guns, weapons, torture, sexual assault, exploitation of a minor, sadism, masturbation to a minor, brainwashing, abuse CW // manipulation, blood, gore and graphic details --- ' "𝚈𝚘𝚞'...