forum Blood Oath (O/O CLOSED)

Started February 21, 2019 by Deleted user

tune

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No. Now that he’d shown that he actually gave two shits about what happened to me, my fear of being ratted out was dimming, fragmenting, albeit slowly. Don’t leave me.

I felt like I was being torn in two—no, three. First the mind-numbing pain in my back, the fire tearing through my damaged flesh. Now the impossible decision? I hated, absolutely despised the feeling of his hands on my exposed back. I loathed the vulnerability he’d forced me into, how helpless I’d been. And the thought of him touching me again sent a wave of sickening dread through my weakened body.

But at the same time, I wanted him to hold me. I wanted to bury my face in his chest until he softened, forgot how much he detested me. I wanted him to stay.

But I had no idea what I was supposed to tell him.

“I—I can’t kick you from your own room,” I protested finally, voice wobbling dangerously. “That wouldn’t—wouldn’t be much of a thank-you.”

I almost reached out to ruffle her hair, like I used to when she was Elliot, but then pulled it away. She wouldn’t appreciate it. I wanted her to tell me to stay with her, to hold her in my arms, to run my fingers through her short hair. Even though I knew it wasn’t going to happen, I still wanted it to. I wanted her to stop hating me, but that wasn’t possible. I was the son of a psychopath. I was the prince. If I were her, I’d hate me, too.

“It’s all right,” I said with a gentle sigh. “I should probably move back into my old room. Things are… not the same, I suppose. I’m aware you hate me, Elle, and you don’t have to pretend otherwise. I won’t rat you out. I’ll take your secret to the grave with me.”

I'll take your secret to the grave with me…

"I don't–I don't hate you, Colton," I said quietly, averting my eyes from his before the plumbing exploded again. "I'm angry and terrified of you. But I don't—I don't hate you."

If he wanted to leave, I couldn't stop him, no matter how much I wanted to. I'd already shown enough weakness to him as it was.

"Just—If you want to go, fine." It was most definitely not fine, but I didn't say so. "It's your choice. But—Answer one thing. I want to know–I want to know why you're not going to tell your father about me."

Angry and terrified. I scared her, but she didn’t hate me. Why? Why was that? What was she trying this time?

“Why should I?” I muttered, finally responding to what she wanted to know. “What he d—“ I froze, terror clawing up my spine, wrapping itself around my mouth. I couldn’t speak. Why couldn’t I? What was preventing me from telling the truth, the fact that I cared and couldn’t bear sentencing her to death? ”What he would do is absolutely ridiculous. We’d lose a Type A.”

I covered my face with the bloodstained hands, voices whispering in my ears again. I had finally took a step out of the pit of insanity. The voices pushed me back in.

Oh, silly Colton… Poor, poor Colton… you shouldn’t trust anyone, my dear…

For one heart-stopping second, Colton's eyes flickered pure black.

"What he would do is absolutely ridiculous. We'd lose a Type A," he said, voice pitching deeper, losing all emotion. I turned to ice, trying to push myself backwards as horror overtook me.

And then, it was over. His eyes ceased to be twin voids. Fear, actual fear, flashed over his features, but he quickly moved both hands up to hide it.

"C-Colton?"

“Shit,” I cursed, shaking my head, breathing deeply. “You should go. Please. You’ll get hurt. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Three days. I hadn’t heard those voices in the last three days and now I was hearing them all over again. Her icy, merciless laughter filled my ears. Her crooning voice, her hands on me.

Why couldn’t it just end? Why couldn’t it just be over? What did she want with me?

What do you want with me, you witch? I was breathing heavily, hands still covering my face. Leave me the hell alone. Don’t leave me. Let me go. Please…

You’re disappointing me, Colton.

Cold fear washed over me again.

I flattened myself against the wall despite the pain that erupted from my bound wounds. Scylla backed into my arms, hissing and spitting at Colton—no, the thing—in front of us. I pressed her to my chest, hunching my shoulders as if to shield her as icy dread seeped into my core.

You'll get hurt. I don't want you to get hurt.

My mouth went dry. I'd let him touch me. His hands had been all over my bare skin—and all the while, he could have killed me. Could have killed Scylla. I didn't know how many times his lovely brown eyes had flashed black while my eyes were squeezed shut, what he'd wanted to do to me.

But he looked so horrified, so disgusted at herself, that even as I recoiled, a pang went through my chest. No. For once in your goddamn life, stop following your emotions!

Before I could come completely to my senses, my lips had parted to let through a stream of Windsong, raw, and afraid, and powerful.

"𝒢𝑒𝓉 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓊𝓈."

I froze, her command taking root in my mind. How many times must I be controlled? How many times must I be forced to do things against my will? Why me? Why did I have to go on that bloody mission? Why, why, why?

My feet followed the command, backing away from Elle. Key followed me, his worry and fear coursing through me. Even my bondmate feared me. What was I becoming? What was I doing the times I’d blank out?

Her face was twisted in fear and terror. Because of me. I had one chance to make things right with her and that witch took it away from me. Why? Why me? I didn’t ask for this.

I threw open the door and without a second look back, I exited the room and walked out of the dorm.

I never went back in there again.

(Autumn, we feel you there)

And he obeyed—how could he not? He exited the room, walked out of my life, but in his wake, he left destruction. The shattered pieces of my trust. Of my heart. The bonfire had moved on from the forest, leaving each of its trees a charred stump.

I wanted this, I had commanded this—so why was I crying? Why was I clutching Scylla to my chest, a complete sobbing wreck? Why did I want to call out to him, to draw him back?

What was wrong with me?

This man had lied to me, spoken harshly of how I'd betrayed him, all the while he was the monster. An actual monster. I shuddered, the memory of his darkening eyes emblazoned at the forefront of my mind. I shouldn't want him back, couldn't afford to want him back or even speak to him. Because of what he could do to my bondmate. At this point, I was barely afraid for myself anymore.

"Colton…" The name speared me through the heart. So I closed my mouth, and didn't say it again.

[TIME SKIP: ONE WEEK}

I'd be lying if I said I was okay. I wasn't. I felt like someone had constantly stabbed me and left me for dead, but the only problem was, I couldn't die. I was still alive. That witch's voice continued to linger in my mind, growing louder and louder, harsher. She was growing restless. She wanted something and I don't think I could refuse if she controlled me again. I don't think I could come back if I went under again.

"Cole, please," Key nudged my leg. "We should do something about this. Please."

"I can't," I fisted my hair, ready to let out another white flame. "I can't talk about it. I can't fight against her, and neither can you."

Key's usually arrogant, talkative and annoying personality started to die out. I was to blame for this. Because of me, he was weakening.

Then I caught a flash of familiar hair–Andreas–and I immediately began to move.

Andreas's POV:

I honestly had no idea what was going on anymore.

Seven days. Colton had disappeared for seven days. Then, he'd turned up in Elliot's room in the middle of the night—or so I'd heard, Kaden and I had snuck into Lance's dormitory that night to celebrate his birthday with a few other boys—and all of a sudden, where I'd expected Elliot to be relieved and star-struck, the two roommates had stopped talking. Avoided each other completely. Occasionally I would catch glimpses of a fearful glance here and there, an angry glare, but besides that, they didn't interact.

Days later, Kaden and I had returned to the dorm, only to find a battlefield. Blood and water soaking the floor, the curtains, everything. And in the midst of it all, Elliot, on his knees with a tear-streaked face as he tried to suck the water into the air and clean up before we got home. Colton was nowhere to be seen. And as of all that wasn't bad enough, my best friend's back was soaked in blood. The story had all come out in a rush—he'd been trying to practice by himself, he'd lost control, gotten hurt. Prince Colton had patched him up. In the process of trying to fix his mess, he'd torn open a few stitches. But no matter how hard we tried, he wouldn't let us see the wounds. Wouldn't let us help him.

All through the night, we could hear him crying.

And now, one week later, the Prince had yet to set a single foot into the dormitory. I caught glimpses of him in the halls, but he was always walking away before I could approach him. Was it guilt? Because I'd tried to put the puzzle pieces together, and the only twisted idea I'd been able to come up with was that my two roommates had been in some sort of abusive relationship.

But now, finally, as I was sliding a library book off a shelf, I caught a glimpse of him. Colton. After a whole week.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had stalked right up to him and opened my mouth to speak.

I ran a hand through my hair, twisting my face into a cold expression. Pushing back the voices in my head, I stared back at Andreas. Let me have a moment of peace, witch.

"Good afternoon, Andreas," I greeted my ex-dormmate with a nod, talking as if we were mere acquaintances. "Do you need something from me?"

His expression went cold, his voice like ice. I squared my jaw. What had any of us done to deserve this?

"Yes, actually." My voice was harder, stronger than I'd ever heard it. For that moment, I no longer felt like the joking, playful clutz I so loved to be. "I need to talk to you. Why have you left?"

I quirked an eyebrow.

"I wasn't aware that I needed to inform you of my absence, nor was I aware I needed to offer an explanation," I said instead, stuffing my hands in my pockets. "My reasons shouldn't be of your concern, Andreas."

In my head, I could hear the witch encouraging me, telling me what a great job I was doing. Urging me to show him we were of different levels. I didn't let anything show on my face. I kept her locked up.

"Your absence caused…." Here, I lowered my voice. "Issues. I know how bold I'm being, but I would really love to know why I found my best friend crying and bleeding in the middle of our living room while trying to mop up a mess of blood—his own blood—and water. I want to know why you left him like that."

My heart clenched in my chest. That idiot opened up her wounds? How did she fix them? Did she fix them properly? Did they help her? Does that mean they know?

They could have known all along as far as I knew. Who was I to say? They were best friends.

"Perhaps you should ask him, then," I replied softly, my hands clenched in my pockets. "It was his decision, after all."

"His decision?" I raised my eyebrows, a muscle working in my jaw. "Somehow, I find that hard to believe. I don't see why you would let him push you out of your home for the rest of the year. And I don't see why he would be crying about a decision that he made."

He was lying, I was sure about it. Bullshitting his way out of guilt. All the respect I'd previously held for him vanished.

I let out a cold, humorless laugh.

"Home," I repeated the word he used. "Funny, I never thought of it that way. Anyway, I don't care what you think of me, really. You want the truth, you can ask your best friend. There's really nothing else I'd like to add to that."

He really didn't care. I'd expected it, up to a point, but not to this degree. In my pockets, my hands began to smoulder.

"I've tried asking him, and I'm not doing that again. For the love of god, if you care the tiniest bit, come back and clean up the mess you've made before disappearing again."

A weak ago, I would have been appalled and shaken by the idea of speaking to the Crown Prince like this. Now, I quite frankly didn't care. "Elliot misses you," I said finally, before turning on my heel and walking away.

If she missed me, why didn't she come for me? If she missed me, why tell me to get away from her?

Before I could stop myself, the words were already out of my mouth.

"Who took care of the wounds he reopened?" the words tumbled out of my mouth and I regretted them the second I said them. I heard the witch click her tongue in disapproval, her cold voice bringing me down again.

I paused, confusion flickering across my features. What, had he suddenly grown a conscience? Taking my time, I turned around to face him once more, never faltering once. "No one. Whenever one of us tried to go near him, he panicked. Accidentally Sang us away. We couldn't go near him or the healer's. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you know the reason why?"

I ran a hand through my hair, cursing inaudibly.

“He’s been left untreated for a week?” I repeated. What the hell? Was she an idiot? Why would she do such a stupid thing? She could have had Scylla do it for her, so why didn’t she? “I… do know the reason. I can’t say. It’s not my place to.”

My ass, I thought sarcastically, but didn't voice the thought. "To the extent of my knowledge. His bondmate might have done something to help, but there's no way I can be sure. But, forgive me if I'm a bit confused, Your Highness. You didn't exactly seem to care a second ago. What changed?"

I opened my mouth to speak before closing it shut again.

Sad, isn’t it, my pet? The people you care about pretend and pretend, and when you hide your hurt, suddenly you’re the monster…

I gritted my teeth, clenching my fists. Shut up, witch.

“Even if I cared,” I started slowly, hiding my expressions. “What good would it bring?”