Hullo Hullo~ This is my friends story, she HAS given me permission to put it up here 3 i DONT OWN THIS!
All of it is hers :3
This story is violent and upsetting. If you cannot handle abuse, please do not read!
I'm naked, I'm numb...
The strong scent of alcohol lingered in the room as he had slowly pushed the door open. He didn't want to be here... But Claude had told him to be. This was an unused room, at the most secluded part of the manor. That in itself struck fear instantly within him.. But he had told himself, that this was Claude. His demon. His butler. His heart. His everything...
Claude would never hurt him... Right?
Wrong.
I'm stupid, I'm staying...
He should've turned and left. He should've ran from the room. If only he had done that... if only he had never gone in that room...
Slowly, he had stepped inside, the butler facing him as he had slowly closed the door behind himself. The stench of alcohol was almost mind numbing. It was all he could focus on, since it was so strong. Though, it was something he didn't wish to focus on.
And if Cupid's got a gun, then he's shooting...
he saw a demonic smirk make its way onto the demon's winter-glossed lips, parting slightly to reveal fangs as he had risen to his feet, and walked to the Earl who by now was rather afraid. One hand slammed against the wall, keeping him pinned there. He had let out a breath of shock, ice blue eyes wide, trembling with tears as a cold breath had passed the demon's lips.
Lights black, heads bang...
Darkness. The room was encased in shadows, the only light being by a candelabra with its irritating flickering flames, that suddenly went out. And, suddenly, a hard slap was delivered right to him, eyes widening as he felt a terrible stinging in his reddening cheek.
You're my drug, we live it...
And yet, he couldn't hate Claude. He couldn't bring himself to hate him. The butler was like a drug, and he found himself always craving, always wanting, needing more... Each touch, each breath, each kiss, each uttered word...
You're drunk, you need it...
A shaky exhale left the Count as the stink of alcohol had reached him, looking up at the demon as he noticed his eyes beginning to glow a crimson shade, that seemed to reveal a fiery hell within them. The Count was afraid, very much so... And he was trembling with that fear. That fear that wouldn't leave him alone. That fear that would haunt him forever...
Reload, and give it...
Suddenly, the butler's gloved hand had clenched into a fist and drawn back, the terrible pain shooting through his body as the fist collided with his stomach, causing him to keel over slightly with a harsh gasp. Another punch came, harder than the last one. He felt blood pouring up inside of him, coughing harshly as crimson splattered the floor, though he himself couldn't see it against the blackness of the room.
A harsh, amused laugh came from the butler. He could barely breathe.
Why... When he had loved him? Why... When he had never done anything to deserve this? Why... When he wasn't ready to die?
He had shuddered, a gloved hand tentatively running through blonde locks. For a second, he thought it was over, eyes filled with frozen tears... Until the hand gripped his hair roughly, slamming his head back into the wall, making him fall dizzy. Then, he had been shoved roughly to the ground, a harsh kick delivered to his stomach while he was down.
"How pathetic you look, my Danna Sama..."
The butler's voice was dreadfully slurred and he was shaking on the ground, gasping for breath and coughing up crimson that seemed to be one of the main reasons he couldn't breathe, blood caught in his throat. He feared for his life.
"Say you love the abuse. Say it!"
The angry butler snapped. The boy, who only wanted this to stop, complied in the hopes that obeying might save his life.
I...I-I love it..! I...I love the abuse!"
He had sobbed.
Lies. Nothing but filthy lies. The butler let out a sharp, satanic laugh as another kick was dellivered to him. He was drunk. He was ever so very drunk... And the helpless human on the floor was more than enough for his drunken fury.
With each stamp, he lost more blood, more air. He felt weaker, and numbness overwhelmed his small, shaking body...
Click. Click. Click.
Footsteps were getting further away as he lay on the ground, not daring move just yet. He heard the door creak open, and then close with a soft click.
The Devil was gone.
he felt weak. He was slipping, eyes wide as monsters surrounded him. But this time, within their eyes... What he could see... Was almost pity, sadness, instead of rage and a sadistic joy for watching him writhe...
This time, the monsters had sympathy.
He felt... Tired. He tried to stand but even the smallest movement brought him more pain, and forced him back down. He had lay on his front on the ground, staring out into the darkness. Slowly, carefully, he rolled onto his back, staring up at the celing.
He'd rest his eyes... Just for a second. he'd feel better after some rest, he told himself. That was all he needed... hey, maybe he'd wake up and this would all just be a horrid nightmare... Yeah, that had to be it. And so, eyes hid themselves away behind ebony lashes.
They would never open again.
Breaths begun to fail him as he became more and more aware he was dying.
"...Do you love me now... Claude?"
He had whispered.
"Maybe... He'd love me... If I were red..."
He spoke to the monsters that surrounded him, watching with a sympathetic gaze of sheer pain, that he too felt. The ultimate betrayal... And he couldn't bring himself to hate Claude. He only loved him more...
"...They only care... When... You're dead..."
One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths...
One beat. Two beats. Three beats...
Silence.
Taunting silence. Mocking, even. Laughing in his face...
And, as the Earl fell motionless and limp, a single cold tear finally escaped, slipping down an ivory cheek, taking the path that wasn't bloodstained.
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate... And by the time Claude sobered up enough to realise what he'd done, it would be too late.
Yet, through the wind and the rain, he had stood hard as a stone, even though he were in a world he couldn't rise above.
But in death, he grew wings, so he could fly to a place where he was loved.
The monsters grabbed him, and finally succeeded in pulling him into darkness.
That was the day Alois Trancy died.
Maybe... He was better in red.