Painted Lies and Demon Eyes (SVTFOE Fan Fic)

Reunion

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls, telling me he had come back. He had been gone for so long, I got impatient. I anxiously awaited his dreadful return.

Tom had been gone so long that several of the hallway lanterns had burned out. Minute by agonizing minute, they went out until there were only three left. There were moments when I felt myself drifting distantly away, wrestling the exhaustion.

Each time I'd rest my eyes for a moment, I'd awake with a physical jolting panic, not even remembering drifting off to sleep. In my constant fading of consciousness, I could feel it all.

Every ache, every blood curdling pain, every crevice of my body hurting.

My sore and weak knees, unable to hold a kneeling position.

My arms, losing circulation from being strung up above me.

My wings, a sort of heavy, searing burden weighing me down.

My head, pounding like an ungodly drum.

I was so, very aware of it all.

The worst of it all was the fight from the relentless grip of permanent sleep. Deep down, it was the silent yet grim realization of death, something so utterly beyond my desperate control. My vision was so overcome with a dizzy blur, if it wasn't for the light of the lanterns being blocked by darker colors, I would have never guessed Tom was standing there in front of me.

I looked up, a sudden lightheaded feeling invading my skull. I don't know if he saw it but the feeling 'horrible' was an understatement in my case.

"Marco," His voice rang in sharp and I flinched. The sound made my ears pierce and ache and my head pound.

Don't let him see you like this. Fight the pain.

"Came to finish me off or what?" I spat out, my voice cracking, hoarse from disuse.

Something about his appearance was different. Blinking through the blurs of my failing eyesight and dizzying migraine, I discovered something different about him, his clean-cut formal wear. He was wearing a black and white tuxedo with matching dress shoes.

Though I was experiencing every pain imaginable, I couldn't help but smirk at this.

"I see you dressed nice for the occasion." I sneered, a sort of sarcasm in my tone of voice.

Seriously, if he thought he was trying to intimidate or impress me, he was wrong.

If anything, he only proved himself nothing more than a narcissistic, insufferable bastard.

My patience for Tom had already become well past dry and whatever he was orchestrating, I was not in the mood for. 

"I know you're mad, Marco, but you have to listen to me. I'm not here to torture you. Just - trust me." He said. The expression on his face was composed and he surrendered his hands out in front of him in a genuine, modest manner.

If my hands were free, I would applaud him for his surprisingly credible performance. It was almost enough for me to fall for it.

I chuckled softly, dropping my head again, unable to withstand the pressure building in my head. However, when I spoke, my tone was devoid of any humor or sarcasm. It was, quite literally, very somber and sincere.

"Why should I? I don't even know who you are anymore."

"Yes, but you know who she is." He muttered. Just then, he gestured his head, a subtle nod of permission, almost as if to usher someone over.