When your laying naked and broken on the floor at my feet, sometimes I wonder If this is really what you wanted. You asked for it but seeing this makes me question your logic. Do you really enjoy this? How long do you plan to do this? Are you honestly in love with this like you say you are? I can't beleieve you anymore.
I'm sorry.
I can still remember when I first found you like this. You were mangled from head to toe. Like a lion no longer interested in the carcas of it's prey. Like you had no desire to care for your own flesh. I scooped you up into my arms trebbling from the smell of blood coating your body, the vile scent filled the room where you'd been tortured. I picked you up and cradled you until we were both in my home again.
When I took you into my bathroom to bath and repair your wounds you came too, sobbing lightly at your mistakes. But you didn't call them mistakes. You always smiled saying that they were just accidents. I don't care what you think anymore, it was no accident. You wandered out alone, hoping to get caught and abused.
When I pressed a hot, moist sponge to the open cuts you screamed scaring me to hell and back. It was to be expected though, they were deep.
When I was done repairing you, i picked you up once more, bringing you to my room, setting you on the bed gently and demanding you stayed there. After a small nod, I ran to my kitchen to make you something. Odds where that you had'nt eaten anything in about two days. At least, that's when you disappeared at that time.
When I came back to you with a hot meal, you were passed out on the comforter, some of the cuts reopened and tear stains on your cheeks. An unhealthy glow surrounded you entire precense. I remember eating alone that night, watching you for the remaining hours of night pondering why it was that you always did this.
Why did I put up with you? Why did I always come to rescue you? Why didn't I seek help for you?
All of those quesitons again filled my mind, once again picking you up. I hate when you do this. You know that right?
"Arthur.. Please wake up.. " I asked softly, brushing the blood covered forelocks from your eyes. You've been marked once again by that son of a bitch. That Russian bastard had once again driven you out of your mind and now here you were. You always looked for the sadistic ones too making me even more scared for your well being.
Everytime, It was someone different. I didn't know whether to call these times rape or not. Maybe even homicide. It didn't matter now though. I couldn't let you get any worse.
I knew if I reasoned with you later though, you'd just shun me, telling me to mind my own business. That hurts you know, everytime you do that. But you don't care.
You really don't. Because if you did, you would stop this foolishness.
"Arthur.." I ask again, pulling you closer to my heart trying to ignore the sickening oders. I couldn't lose you. I had almost lost you before when Francis reported you for cutting yourself. I almost lost you to the assylem. I will never lose you.
You know that right? Probably not.
A deep breathe enters your body and I feel my eyes moisten, daring to spill over in my frustrations. I know I can never save you as much as I've always wanted too. But this is enough right? Being here for you and loving you in secret..
Yur emerald eyes are glazed over. I know your not home at all. Arthur Kirkland was in his own world, confused and horrifyed. Alone and sad. Lost and happy.
It made no sense. None at all.
I bite down on my lip, hoping I'm wrong. Praying your in there and here my words.
"Arthur.. You have to stop this... Please..." I break into soft sobs, my stronger frame trebbling at your emotionless eyes, the coldness in them was unbareable. I can only do what I can now though.
Your naked figure twitches at my sobbing, the blood decorated randomly over the bruised areas of flesh, everything exposed. Nothing to hide from me. I was use to this though and you knew it. Those weak fingers of yours kiss my face, tracing over the lips I wish I could kiss you with. It would be considered teasing, but not to me. This was the most affection I'd ever recieved from you aside from when I was a child.
A smile graces your broken face but I know it's a lie. Your starting to shake Arthur. Your scaring me. You know that right?
Those tremblinig digits trail up my face and slide over the lenses of my glasses, the bloody fingerprints staining them. I know you don't want me to look at you but it's too late. I've already seen everything.
Tears brim in your eyes, and you whisper only one word before falling faint into my arms once more. I feel the warm water trail down my face to yours and I cannot help it any longer. My soft sobs turn into hysterical crying. I've held back for too long and I know I'm going to lose you. I hate when you do this. You know your tearing me up inside right? I know you'll always be strong for me. You've always have but this had to end. Maybe this was the sign, The one thing you never call me.
I know we have to go home but let me stay here and gather my thoughts, I have you now and no one is going to hurt you again. I promise. For now, all I can think of is that one word. That one name you refused to call me ever since the war.
Alfred.