𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇

SIDE STORY SEVEN

( warnings: blood, religious imagery, violence, yandere behavior, sin, purity, discrimination, drugs and alcohol, addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms, sexual assault, mentioned self harm, graphic scenes, extreme self hate. )

In general, warnings will be included at the start of every chapter if necessary. Please tell me if I leave anything out. The content inside might be sensitive to some so viewer discretion is advised.

Regarding the religious aspect, it is heavily based on Christianity, but it's written to be more of a cult than an actual religion. Only certain aspects are similar to Christianity, but the majority of it is made up and written to be slightly more diabolical.

Again, I emphasise that this book is extremely dark, darker than twisted faith. Please read the chapter warnings beforehand.

Chapter Warnings; Very slight mention of Self Harm

Comment for motivation along the way, and I'll update faster!

—

He was so tired.

Y/n was exhausted, really. He didn't know how much longer he could even hang on—why didn't he kill himself? Was he a coward? Yes, that was a possibility, but perhaps it was the fact that Y/n knew that somehow, Anton would continue to haunt him even in death.

Lord, Y/n thought, it hurts even to survive. Y/n had killed so many. He had been tortured, abused, sexually, physically, mentally—and didn't all humans have a limit? Where was his? Where was the line that needed to be drawn? Anton had broached all boundaries—and now the line was murky and blur. And now Y/n's mind was altered due to the lilies and he found this insatiable, horrific urge within him to beg for more. He found that Anton's appetite could not be whetted and he continued to be hungry and ravenous in his desires.

They could play house, for now; Anton would be the one who earned money, brought prosperity to the home (to Y/n's utter contempt he found the former priest strolling into the house casually, unbothered with his newly accumulated wealth earned by a mysterious, strange job) and Y/n would be the one sitting at home, pliant, domestic, docile, even—with the child sitting on his lap. Then Anton would place a kiss on Y/n's forehead, the child would eat with them and then be put to sleep, and then would begin another round of the same ritual. On some days, it would be purification. Other times when he became impure, as Anton called it—he would be thrown to the attic where he would repent. Those days became fewer, as Y/n soon learned how to behave. During sex he would take it in quietly, with proper behaviour—and at home he would sit down on the sofa with his hands obediently on his knees with his eyes blinking innocently at Anton.

His mind left him at times and drifted. But in the days it didn't, Y/n would have so many fantasies. One being to light himself on fire, to let the flames gobble his mind, to let his thoughts die. He dreamed of slamming his head against a spike—of piercing his eyeballs, of cracking his skin and pouring gasoline inside.

The thing is, Y/n was nothing but a jumbled ball of problems. Self-harm. Rape. Therapy. Killing. Murder. Some days when he thought of the end he would feel freer, lighter, better. All his life he had tried to be someone better, someone different. There was no law that said someone had to live—it as solely up to him to decide the intricate matter of life and death. There was no law to say that someone had to save him—there was no law at all. There were so many years of sorrow that could have been ended if he had simply killed himself sooner.

But why hadn't he? Because he was foolish, and had believed that things would turn better. It never did.

Killing himself would be an apology to Lucas and Ally. They would see how he had eaten away at them. How he had terminated them. They would see it all, how Y/n stole their time and sucked their energy from them. A lot of useless people died young. He was one of them. He was going to be one of them.