Past Lives (Dark/Damien x Reader)

ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ: ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɢʜᴛ

Trigger Warning: Abuse; Assault

"Just keep all of the documents that I gave you okay? Busy yourself by reading it or researching or something—"

"(Y/n), I can't let you just leave." Celine said, her lips pursed together. The attorney sighed.

"I have to go. I don't have much time."

Without saying another word, the girl raced out of the house, slamming the door behind her before jumping down onto the street and racing back towards the house that her and her childhood friend shared. She kept her fingers crossed and prayed to whatever god she could that Ethan would be and was okay, but it was only a flicker of hope, yet the only thing that kept her running.

Celine nervously spent a few minutes staring at her phone's screen, debating on what she should do. On one hand, (Y/n) and Ethan were both in trouble. But on the other, (Y/n) profusely said that he would kill anyone in his way and no one could be involved. From the way that the girl talked about her ex, it wasn't hard for Celine to see the fear that came from being with him or even around him. For now, she needed to think and analyze her best option, but there was just no way that she could leave (Y/n) to fend for herself against that monster of a man.

(Y/n) continued to run towards her home. Although she was making wonderful time, she couldn't help but think that him rushing her like this was a way to exhaust her before she would confront him. How she would handle an abusive, strong person like him, she didn't really know. But she had to try. Ethan was hurt and he needed help. The least she could do was try to get Mark out of the building and away from him.

Her feet began to ache right as she got to her home. The white van she knew was Mark's was parked right beside her old car, causing shivers to run down her spine. He really was here. He really was at her home. Even though she went to so many precautions to make sure he couldn't find it, she had only delayed what seemed to be the inevitable. He had always managed to find her.

As if time slowed down, she felt her body slowly climb up the stairs to her home. There was no use in knocking, since the door was still cracked open. It was as if Mark was taunting her with that little open door. It was a hint back to their past relationship, where he would allow her to try to show others what she was going through and the pain she was in, but just like the cracked door, no one would ever have seen it unless they looked hard enough or knew it was already there. She sighed, her hand shaking as she pushed the door open. The energy drained from her body, causing her eyes to grow heavy as she walked into the dark room. The sun was beginning to set, and it only made her more panicked. She was so terrified of what Mark was capable of doing, and she could still hear the sound of Mark dropping Ethan's body with a sickening crack echo in her mind. It made her wonder if Ethan was still even alive, but she pushed that thought out of her mind.

(Y/n) kept the door cracked behind her as she slowly made her way into the home, knowing very well that it could be her only chance to run out before Mark would hurt her. What did he even want from her anyways? With his sick, twisted mind in the way, who knew if he wanted anything at all? For all she knew, he just wanted to play his games and have fun. Obviously, Amy wasn't entertaining enough for him. What happened to the girl, (Y/n) didn't know, but she could only pray that it wasn't death.

Now walking down the hallway towards the bedroom, she saw that the light in her room was on, that door cracked as well. With trembling fingers, she pushed the door open, revealing what seemed to look like a murder scene in front of her. The tears that she had been holding in cascaded down her hands that were now covering her mouth in attempts to silence her sobs. The walls, floors, furniture—everything was covered in blood. Not amazing amounts, but enough for the smell of crimson to settle into the room. Ethan laid on her bed, sat up with his head down. His pajamas from this morning were covered with dried blood, and ropes wrapped around the majority of his arms, legs, and torso. His mouth was covered with what seemed to be duct tape, but he didn't seem to try to struggle out of it. That was, until he heard the broken way (Y/n) called his name.