Mark paced the room, mulling over ways of possible escape.
They cared about him, he noticed. Well—sort of. They made sure he ate two meals a day, got some light from the windows... Other than that, they locked him in this godforsaken room, which constantly remained in a state of darkness.
He glanced around the room, the ebbs of sunlight giving him a bit of light to see. He rummaged through the drawers, the closet, under the bed—nothing.
Mark eyed the covers of the bed, which had been barely touched since his first day in captivity. That was four days ago, and fatigue threatened over him like a vampiric vice.
He shook his head, eyes lingering on the bed frame—black steel, rickety yet old. If he could just break a piece off... use it as a weapon... Mark mulled over the idea, running a hand through his hair.
He grimaced, dirty after the long days of no showering and constant stress.
"I bet they don't even shower," snapped Mark, turning away from the bed and running his hands over his face. "Fucking—ability-ass whores—"
He clenched a fist and swung it at the window with a frustrated yell, pain throbbing up his arm. The glass didn't even waver, intact from his blow. Mark cursed and held his hand, fury flaring in his veins.
"I'm so weak," he hissed at himself, reeling back and punching the window with full force. It surged back at him, and he fell back with a shout, pain thrilling in his veins. Only proving his point.
Mark rolled onto his hands and knees, bowing his head. "No wonder," he grimaced, "why Evolveds hate us."
He spat at the ground, almost surprised to see blood on the floor.
"I hate us, too," he spat, cursing that he didn't have his own set of abilities. His eyes burned, and he grimaced, trying to keep the tears back.
Crying in the Tear Stealer's home? thought Mark. Not the best idea.
He glanced over the bed, fatigue bearing down on his frame, and he clenched his jaw.
"I'm not sleeping," he hissed, wearily making his way to his feet. "Not until I get the fuck out of here!"
He kicked the bed frame over, and it toppled over with a dull crash, bringing the mattress down with it. One of the drawers fell over with a thud, hopefully marking a dent in the wall. He huffed, hoping he caused enough ruckus to bring Equinox over, panting as he stared at the mess he made. Suddenly, a wave of emotion crashed through him, and a tear rolled down his face.
Mark gave a sad chuckle, unsure how to feel, his body twitching with tired anger. He cursed and hit the fallen bed frame, sinking to his knees and tugging at his hair.
"Pathetic," he spat, bowing his head and resting it against the bed frame. "I'm so pathetic."
He drew into himself, trying to hold back the wet dripping down his face. His limbs ached from constant stress, his mind whirring from the lack of sleep. His eyelids drooped, fatigue bearing down on him, and he clutched his shirt weakly.
The door opened, and he jumped, gazing into the candle-lit hallway with wide, wet eyes.
Your chance—
The Tear Stealer emerged from the door, robes swaying as he gazed around the ruined room. Mark froze in his place.
"Shit—"
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STRANGULATE | Markicest
Fanfiction"I have tears from presidents, kings and queens, even servants. From them, I have power. Not the power of reigning over nations, but the power of knowing one's secrets." ➿ Mark, a renowned serial killer, murders celebrities of all kinds. He makes i...
