Captive

chapter 42

Scars of the Past

The quiet of Jeff's room was stifling as he stood in front of the mirror, vulnerability etched across his face. He let his robe slip from his shoulders, standing bare before his reflection, his gaze drifting down to his stomach. A small, faint scar stood out against his skin-a reminder of a past that still haunted him.

With trembling fingers, Jeff traced the lines on his stomach. There were three small scars, each one a mark of his grief. He swallowed hard, feeling the tightness in his throat and the familiar burn of tears behind his eyes. The scars were reminders of the life he had once carried, a precious secret he had kept close to his heart. But the world had moved on, leaving him behind with only the remnants of dreams that had been shattered.

The memories flooded back, overwhelming him. He could almost feel the ghost of a heartbeat that had once pulsed within him. A part of him wished he could erase the scars, but he also knew they were a part of him now, reminders of what he'd lost and of the love that had once given him hope.

Jeff blinked back tears, the pain raw and fresh, and reached for the blade on the edge of the table. His hands shook, but he pressed the blade gently against his skin, adding another mark-a symbol of the sorrow he carried. As the blade touched him, a single tear traced down his cheek, and he whispered softly, "For you, my little one... I'll always remember."

His hand fell to his side, the blade slipping from his grip. He closed his eyes, letting the silence wrap around him. The pain eased, replaced by a strange sense of calm, as if somehow, marking his loss was a way to keep it close, to make sure he'd never forget.

Jeff drew in a shaky breath, then turned away from the mirror, wrapping himself in his robe once more. He walked back to his bed, curling up beneath the covers, clutching a pillow tightly to his chest as he let the tears fall freely. The scars remained, silent witnesses to the love and loss he would carry forever.

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From across the street, Bible sat in his darkened apartment, staring through a small slit in his curtains, watching Jeff through the illuminated window of the neighboring building. He knew he shouldn't be doing this-keeping tabs on Jeff, observing his every move without his knowledge-but the need to be close, even from a distance, was something he couldn't shake. The fear that Jeff was suffering alone kept him anchored to that window night after night.

Today, as Bible looked on, he noticed Jeff in front of a full-length mirror. Bible's breath hitched when he saw Jeff trace his fingers slowly over his stomach, pausing on small scars. The gesture was delicate, almost reverent, yet there was a sadness that hung over him like a shadow. Bible's heart clenched as he watched Jeff's face contort, a tear slipping down his cheek as he stood there, caught in the throes of a memory that Bible knew he could never truly understand.

A mixture of anger and sorrow surged within Bible. He wanted to run over there, to pull Jeff into his arms and tell him he didn't have to carry this alone. Yet he couldn't-he had lost that right. Their past was too tangled, too full of wounds that hadn't healed. All he could do was watch, bearing the weight of his own guilt and helplessness.

Jeff's hand reached for something on the dresser, and Bible's heart lurched as he saw the faint glint of metal in his hand. Bible leaned closer, almost pressing himself against the glass, his chest tight with panic as he realized what Jeff was holding. He could feel his pulse hammering in his ears, wanting desperately to shout across the void, to tell Jeff to stop, to tell him this wasn't right.

But Jeff couldn't hear him. Bible watched as Jeff stood frozen, the blade hovering over his skin, his hand trembling. Bible gripped the edge of the window frame tightly, as if he could will his own strength to cross the street and reach Jeff.

"Don't..." Bible whispered to himself, voice cracking, his throat burning with the words he couldn't say aloud. The torment of not being able to help Jeff-to be the one responsible for his pain-tore at him from the inside.

As Jeff finally set the blade down, taking a shaky breath and wiping his tears, Bible's own shoulders slumped in relief. He watched as Jeff was shaking in sobs and all Bible could do was watch, fists clenched in silent agony.

He leaned his forehead against the glass, closing his eyes tightly, feeling as though he were the one wounded. Despite the distance, despite the silence, Bible felt every ounce of Jeff's suffering-and his own powerlessness-etched into his heart.

Slow updates maybe