Mark felt his arms, his skin warm.
His body still trembled, and he couldn't quite focus, but he was left alone in his room to have some space.
When Antinstine passed out, Syl and Ox had rushed Mark out of the laboratory, trying to preserve the High Evolved's dignity. But Mark had already seen it—how weak and fragile Antinstine looked, with his eyes shut and head hanging at one side. It was only then that he felt more real. The whole charade of "acting like an Evolved" no longer felt like a dream.
But as Mark stared down at the chipped paint across his skin, it all felt like a faraway memory. What once felt real dimmed back down into that veil.
He glided his hand over the paint, the surface of his skin rough and dry. A few chips of paint fluttered to the floor at his feet.
He took a deep breath, leaning over to grab the vial of the black, viscid liquid. The glass was cold under his fingers.
As he uncapped the vial and poured it into his hands, his mind couldn't help but replay what happened between him and Antinstine. The way he was able to move his blood—the way his heartbeat sounded—the way he reacted...
Before Antinstine passed out, he said that he saw Mark.
'I see you,' hissed his voice in his head.
Mark swallowed, mindlessly rubbing his hands together. The black paint was thick, and it spread over his skin like glue. His skin erupted with goosebumps.
What did he mean by that? thought Mark. That he sees me?
He wavered, staring at Prada's empty bed from across the room.
He didn't understand what Antinstine meant, but in the moment, he could... feel it. Like Antinstine had been through the exact same thing—saw a... saw a part of himself in Mark. And, in doing so, knew what he really was. A human.
In a fit of nervousness, he continued to spread the paint over his forearms.
Even if Antinstine really—knew what he was (which would be absurd!)—there was no way that he could truly... prove it.
Mark gnawed on his bottom lip. His human nature could be proven.
He shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He'd gone through enough stress already... thinking about what was to come wouldn't help matters at all.
He took a deep breath, his eyes stinging. His mind couldn't help but continue to rush with thoughts. He just wanted it to be over.
Mark stared down at his hands, and his insides twisted. He hadn't even painted them properly; it was still obvious that it was chipped, and a few strands of the goop were dripping onto the floor. Staining it.
His lower lip trembled, and he clenched his fists, fighting back tears.
When he looked down at his hands, all he could see was a darkness. Something beyond human, beyond Evolved.
A monster.
He had bent someone else's blood, and for a second, he had enjoyed it.
He had a sickness pumping through his very blood—a sickness forced on him.
Mark breathed in hard through his nose, his body shaking.
He couldn't accept to live with a curse like this.
A tear slipped past his eye, and he cursed, wiping it away with the back of his hand. The paint—still wet—smeared on his cheek. He cursed again.
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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...
