Darkness Ethereal | K.TH

What I'd Give

"How you doing, kid? You ready to quit yet?"

My eyes narrow the slightest at his carefree criticism, and I bite the inside of my mouth to suppress my bubbling anger. It wasn't like I wanted him here as well.

"He's fine." I reply lightly, playing along with him to keep him from getting annoyed at me. If I made him angry, he just might not give me the information I needed.

"Um, I was just wondering— how long of a sentence was V given? You know, for the crime and all that."

The jailer sips his coffee, body already pointed towards the door. He'd been ordered to check on me— and obviously he wanted to get out as soon as possible since I was fine.

"Actually, his sentence ends when your time ends here. But it won't matter— he'll just rot here until he dies 'cause no one's going to take that sly little imbecile. Did you try my trick yet?"

This time, I can't help but let disgust curl my lips— they were all the same. No wonder V hated them so much— they judged everything with what they saw first.

It didn't matter what came next, because all that did matter to them happened in the beginning.

But genuine happiness puts a bounce in my step as I thank him, practically skipping the entire way to V's cell with the jailer's curious eyes on my back.

But once I get to his cell, the smile washes off of my face like it'd never even been there in the first place.

"V!" I scream, voice panicked and urgent as I break into a run, my keys already flashed out in my clammy fingers. "What are you doing? Stop!"

He doesn't seem to hear me at all.

The hollow sound of metal grinding against cement echoes violently in my ears as I hurriedly unlock the cell door, my heart racing as V growls deeply in agonized frustration.

Why is he trying to hurt himself like that?

My hands feel cold and clammy with sweat as I wrap my arms around his trembling waist, blood running hot and fire in my ears.

"V—"

"Don't touch me!" He roars, voice dark and violent. Even though this was the voice that I'd gotten used to— the voice belonging to the person that I'd thought I'd come to know—

But it turned out I hadn't even scratched the bare surface.

Who was I? Who was I to think that I could touch him when he'd told me countless times to get away? Who was I to think that I was his friend— someone that he'd care about?

I'd been stupid, and I was going to pay the price for being so reckless.

I'd known this ever since I'd unlocked the door, crossed the cell with my arms outstretched, my eyes wide with horror. I'd known something was going to go truly wrong, yet I still didn't step away.

I'd been selfish.

He whips around, and I catch a flash of his eyes before I feel his hands come in contact with my shoulders. It's the exact same as his voice— it carries the usual hate and anger, but this is one step further.

This isn't him.

Force comes with his touch, and I feel my head collide painfully against the stone-cold wall before everything descends into darkness.

Was it worth to try?

V's POV

My hands touch something foreign— something cool, something beautiful.

Whatever it had been is enough to wake me from my demons, their claws still wrapped around my throat, the memories tearing into my mind.

Everything had been dark.

The bloodstained walls fall away to a dull cement, and the night turns into the darkness before sunset.

My breath is shallow.

Sighing, I draw my sleeved hand across my forehead. My throat feels thick, and my skin feels feverish with heat as I hurry to pull the dark sweatshirt over my head.

The cool air hits my bare arms and snakes down my spine, and I drop the clothing onto the ground. My breaths come slowly as I find feeling in my fingertips, in my dulled senses.

Then I realize the breathing isn't
mine.

"Cher?"

It takes me less than a second to recognize the motionless figure on the cold ground, slender and pale. Her body is tilted in an unnatural angle, pushed up against the wall limply.

It takes me even lesser to figure out who'd forced her into that position.

No.

Something presses against my throat as I brush away her dark hair, sliding my hand behind the back of her head. Her skin feels cold and dead to my touch as I graze her pale cheek.

What have I done?

My hands tighten as I lift her figure, two fingertips pressed against her neck.  The pulse there is steady— but soft. I don't know if it's supposed to sound like that in the beginning.

Fire burns at the back of my mind, and I try to revert my gaze from her closed eyes as I release a shaky breath. The pressing feeling had gotten worse— it'd grown firmer, more tighter.

I can barely breathe.

My vision blurs with darkness as I see her exposed shoulder, the jacket having slipped down while I'd lifted her. The bandages I'd wrapped are still there, tight and the ends slightly curling.

I tear my eyes away.

My fingers find the neck of her jacket as I pull it up urgently to cover her skin, my breath coming in harsh gasps now. I can feel the memories flickering, dark and deep as they push harshly  against the glass.

The bed creaks as I set her down, unable to take my time anymore. It wouldn't surprise me if she didn't forgive me after this— wouldn't surprise me if she left.

It was a miracle she'd stayed by my side until now, after everything I'd done and said to her.

It wasn't worth to hope in the end.

When I look up from my reverie, I realize that I'd been staring. She seemed at peace when she slept, a true peacefulness that I couldn't seem to find while she was awake.

She was always hiding her pain behind bright smiles and innocent, excited expression. She thought I never could see, never could tell the truth.

Maybe she'd forgotten that I came from a place where either you learn how to tell apart lies and deceit from the verity, or you don't survive at all.

The cold ground feels even colder now that the heat had faded from my blood, but I make no move to retrieve the fallen heap in arm's reach. I couldn't imagine being comfortable and warm when I'd done something so horrible, to the one person that I hadn't wanted to hurt.

I would have given anything to make sure she never would've met me.