"Damnit Cy! Stop doing that!"
Aoba groaned and rubbed his eyes with his hands, glaring at me. He had once again woken up to me sitting next to him, watching him. He looked down and yelped. I had removed his shirt and pants, leaving him in his boxers, because all that clothing couldn't have been comfortable to sleep in. His face reddened as he glared at me, yanking the blanket up to his chin. I squinted at his neck, then I yanked away the blanket, a low growl escaping my throat. I shoved him back and straddled his stomach, pushing his head to the side as I examined his neck and shoulders. Bruises peppered his neck, creating the image of a large hand, maybe even two. How had I not noticed this earlier?! I snarled under my breath, unaware of the terror in Aoba's eyes. Sitting back on my haunches, I fixed the door with such a glare that I was sure it would catch fire. My nails bit into my palms, drawing beads of blood, but the pain was irrelevant. My mind was a whirlwind, trying to remember exactly what had happened. Slowly but surely, the details came back. I choked back my voice as I remembered, wanting to scream and rant and kill. I shifted, pulled down the sheets to his waistband, and saw small bruises littering his stomach along with bite marks and cigarette burns. I ran my fingers across the the marks, to filled with hatred to notice that Aoba was shivering under my touch, and his face was bright red with tears brimming his clenched eyes.
"Death was too good for those no good bastards."
My voice was a whisper, but sharp with venom and deep with anger. Aoba whimpered, a tear breaking loose from his lashes and falling over the bridge of his nose, dripping onto the pillow. I jerked my eyes up to meet his, and regret punched me in the stomach. I quickly jumped off of him and retreated to the corner of the room, head down. Of course he's scared of me. Who wouldn't be? I kept my head low as I spoke, my voice now barely audible.
"Sorry......"
I shut the door behind my leaving figure before he could say anything. Looking up, I felt my chest burn with a fire that hadn't been felt in years. My left eye grew warm under my hair, and I walked to the front door, rising to hover a few inches above the ground. Locking the door behind me, I sped down the street, driven by a mentality that wasn't logical, wasn't rational, but emotional. I pondered why I felt the way I did, but decided it wasn't worth my time. I grinned, a malicious grin that held nothing but crazed, uncontainable hatred. I chuckled to myself.
"Look out, Platinum Jail. Someone is going to die tonight."
