KK: This may be the most dark thing I've ever written..
1,100+ Words
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"Ouch!" You hissed through your teeth. Currently, you were cleaning a scratch located on your cheek, and before that it was cleaning your bloody nose, and knees, and elbows, and fingers, you get the jest. It wasn't the first time, but it got easier and quicker to handle every day. Wadding up a small pack of bandage wrap, you used medical tape to hold it in place.
Looking at yourself in the mirror was weird now. Seeing pretty much all of yourself covered in little white bandages that turn red, before drying to brown. Sighing, you cleaned up your mess before turning off the light in the bathroom. You had no more energy for the day even if it was early in the evening. And no matter how much your friends would nag you, you refused to go to the dining hall to get dinner. It was too much of a hassle. Flopping down into your bed face first and passing out within mere minutes was your new favorite part of every day. You're nothing of a heavy sleeper, so it was concerning not to find yourself awake in short bursts of time.
A figure of pure black in the night dragged you away with care while you were well asleep. Handling your body like a delicate piece of glass that was so thin it could break from the wind itself. It was a drastic difference to the multiple bodies dragged while they struggled, the bodies that would shatter, cry, and break.
The figures of the night were bound by the dark evil. The only sound being screams, whether it be loud, quiet, muffled, drowned, burned, or choked out. They came constantly, sounding more and more tired and cracked with everyone. There were just so many ways to get back at darkness. A cut to the skin for every scar ever left visible on your body, a tongue cut out for every time you were silenced, eyes hammered and gouged for every look down at the floor, a stabbed and cut open cheek for every cut on your face, a broken nose for every bloodied one you ever had, and drowned out consciousness before being woken up to repeat the process.
The floor was dirty, it was always dirty. Dirty with the filth of blood and flesh. It was a job never done. A job is never over because there's always a flesh-bodied idiot who has the audacity to lay a finger on you. Someone so non-violent and way too trusting for their own good. Evil doesn't believe in a god but maybe a fallen angel. And in their eyes, you were the most beautiful thing to have ever fallen from so high up.
Sound can't keep anyone from hearing or questioning forever though. Eventually, you woke up, feeling groggy and tired. Your head pounded and everything sounded very muffled, but the haze was broken by a blood-curdling scream. You whipped your head around so fast you thought you would have snapped your own neck.
A man, no, multiple men lay on the ground. They were all familiar, sporting the Akademia's signature uniform. Some lay alive, blearily conscious, or dead. You yourself wanted to scream, watching the shadow slam a wooden beam with nails into the man's kneecaps once again. The knot in your throat held everything down, your throat felt dry and your eyes felt glued.
Fear struck as the figure turned, hearing the clinic of the chain of the bed. The chain that was bound to your wrist, refusing to let you go.
"My dear, you're awake." The voice was smooth and oddly familiar. It held coldness and threatening power that had silent tears running down your cheeks as you shook. "So afraid. No need to worry, all your problems are gone. Now things can be how they're supposed to." The figure stepped into the dim light, revealing Dottore. Someone who you had always caught watching whenever you got picked on.
"Isn't it beautiful?" He asked, sitting next to you in the makeshift bed made out of pillows and blankets. He pulled you close, his bloody hands rubbing off onto your skin. Pointing to the men and women in the room, mangled, pleading, dead. It was a horror-filled sight that no one should ever have to see. And one idiot just had to make the mistake of shouting out your name, laughing and pleading that you were buddies, cause someone who picked on you was only joking, they were your "friend", right?
Dottores skin boiled as he got up, dragging the person by their hair as they yelled out apologies and lies of you two being good friends. He slammed them down into a puddle of mixed people's blood, hearing them cry out in disgust. He slammed the end of the wooden beam into their neck, forcing them to lie still all the while never breaking eye contact with you.
"What do you think (Y/N)? Is this thing really your friend? Did I make a mistake?" Although Dottore asked you his tone still held certainty that this person was not your friend. You just couldn't bring yourself to lie, shaking your head in devastation before you could really think about it. "No? Oh, so we do in fact have a liar." He hit the back of the person's head with the beam when mentioning liar, causing them to slam their head into the ground. "So, maybe, I should beat your skull in? I'm sure (Y/N) would love to see you become an unidentifiable thing that not even the Akademia would know. But, that's not for me to decide. (Y/N), what do you think? Do you really want to let something so worthless live? Let me continue."
Your lips trembled as he raised the beam, ready to slam it down before you screamed for him to stop. And he did, swinging it down and stopping just inches away from their head. "P-Please, just stop! I-I can't w-watch this happen to another person..." Your voice came out shaky and weak, your stomach lurching as the sights really sunk in. Dropping the wooden beam, Dottore walked over.
"You have such a weak stomach don't you. Why you would spare the life of something so useless, I'll never understand." He kisses the sides of your face, watching as tears poured down your cheek. "I'll ask you again, do you want me to continue?"
"No...please" You sobbed out pleading for him not to. He's left you with a sense of trauma, and a sense that this all happened because of you. It's your fault. All of it.
