He's A Monster

You Won

Marshal's Perspective POV

"Broth--stop!"

The word rips out of Vincent, but I remain calm.

He kneels in front of me, knees glued to the ground as if some unseen force is pinning him there. I tilt my head, focusing all my strength onto his bones, willing them to stay frozen beneath my control. For a flicker of a moment, my eyes shift to Danielle. Her face is pale, cheeks swollen from crying, her eyes rimmed red.

Rage surges hot in my chest. My hands curl into fists so tight my nails dig crescents into my palms. He touched her. I can smell her blood. My jaw aches, teeth pressing down against my lips, sharper than they should be. Fangs. They always come when I lose control.

I raise my hand toward him, palm open, fingers slowly curling. His eyes widen, the whites flashing as if he's strong enough to resist me.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice. Soft. Fragile. Danielle's tone cuts straight through my fury. The left corner of my mouth twitches, my expression faltering. I blink hard, fighting the urge to bare my teeth.

"Go," I hiss, though the word is aimed at her, not him. I feel her hand brush my arm before she steps back, those wide eyes locked on mine. Her lips part, trembling.

Her thoughts spill into me, unbidden: Why is he... does he hate me now?

I wince, shutting my eyes against her voice inside my head. Her fear, her doubt, they burrow into me like thorns. My hand drops to my side. I force myself to look at him, the man kneeling before me, the one who dares call himself my brother. His breath rattles heavily, chest straining.

"You were always the soft one," Vincent sneers. His laugh is jagged. "Little Marshal, giving in because his 'love' can't stomach the truth of what he is. Because you're a monster."

"Shut up!" I snarl, but the sound rings hollow.

My gaze flicks to Danielle, huddled against the corner. Her arms wrap tightly across her chest as if to make herself smaller. She won't even look at me properly. Her eyes are blurred, shining with tears, and I can see it now: she's afraid. Afraid of me.

"Look at what you've done!" Vincent cackles. "She doesn't even recognize you anymore. Not what you are. Not who you are."

The words slice me open. My knees bend, my nostrils flare. He clutches his chest but still smirks, reveling in it. "For what you are: a monster."

Something in me snaps. I lunge, claws driving deep into his shoulders. His face only twists into a wider grin, his eyes burning with cruel delight. My mouth opens, fangs bared, her blood still clinging to his skin. My instincts scream at me to tear him apart. His brow arches mockingly.

"What's the monster going to do now?" He cooed.

My hands close around his throat, pressing him into the floor. My body shakes with the effort to hold back.

Stop. Please, stop.

Her voice again, shattering me from inside. I glance sideways. Danielle stands rigid, hands clamped over her mouth, tears sliding freely. Each drop hits the floor with a sound far too loud, echoing in my skull like the ticking of a clock in an empty room.

"Why not kill me already?" Vincent taunts, his smile unbroken. "Prove to her what you really are."

My nails lengthen, slicing his flesh. Blood seeps between my fingers, hot and metallic.

I can't. Not in front of her.

Then she runs. Her footsteps pound across the floorboards, her heartbeat thrashing wildly in my ears. Whimpers trail behind her, and then—nothing. Silence.

Her thoughts vanish.

She left. She left because of me. Because I'm me. Because I kill. Because I'll never be normal.

Vincent's voice slithers back into my ears. "Because you're being what you are. A Upir."

I glare at him, the ice in my stare barely masking the hollow breaking inside me. His smile finally fades.

"You did this," I whisper.

"No, Marshal." His grin creeps back. "You did this."

My grip loosens, hand falling from his throat. My mouth dries, my words barely forming. "I... I love her. You don't... you don't understand..."

"Oh, I understand." He jabs a finger into my chest. Each tap burns like fire. "That feeling? The hole inside you right now? That's how it felt when you took everything from me. Our mother. Our father. My family. You left me with nothing, Marshal. Nothing. You made me what I am."

The words ring hollow, like some twisted lie. But... what if they're not? My thoughts stumble. What is he talking about? Why can't I remember them—my mother... my father?

Vincent snarls, spitting his rage. "You ruined everything! You killed them, our parents. Maybe not directly, maybe without knowing, but you did. All because you couldn't control yourself. And now? Now you finally understand what it's like to lose everything. To sit there, helpless, as the people you love are ripped away from you."

I stare at him, blank, numb.

"You did this for revenge?" My voice cracks with disbelief. "Because of something I did as a child that I cannot remember?"

His smile sharpens. "That I did."

I step back, dragging a hand over the back of my neck, unable to piece any of it together.

"Well, great," I mutter.

His head tilts. "What?"

"Great job, bastard. You've destroyed me. Danielle was all I had. She made me believe I could be more than this. And with one move, you broke it all." My chest heaves. "I loved her. I needed her. And now she's gone."

A pause. 

I smack his cheek lightly, the sound bitter in the silence. "Congratulations."

The air hangs heavy. For a moment, neither of us speaks.

He rises slowly, dusting himself off. Then, unbelievably, he extends his hand.

"Brother."

I stare at it, bile rising. "What?"

"Shake. We've fixed things up."

I almost laugh in his face. Fixed things up? After this?

"You can rot."

"Shake, brother."

I scoff, fury surging. "Why would I? Do you not see what you've done?"

His hand clamps onto mine. He yanks me close, foreheads pressing together. His eyes gleam with something wicked, something that makes my stomach twist.

"Look to your right, brother," he whispers.

My head jerks, unwilling but compelled. And then I see it: a pale hand gripping the edge of the doorframe. A shredded dress dangling just above a bare knee. My heart seizes.

His nails dig deeper into my hand.

"One problem in your story, brother..."