o.O There's kinda a backstory to this. Nothing related
directly to the story but something that just happened to me in real life.
Maybe if I continue this I'll weave it in and out. Then again, maybe not.
IN MY DEFENSE: There are no Axl torture stories out there ( Well, duh ) and,
um… I like torture…? I don't own him. This is kinda dark, I guess. As I said
before, I may continue this. If people want
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He was just a child. Everyone told him that. A child. He couldn't be a hunter – he didn't understand what being a hunter entailed. That's what they told him. And then they told him he was a child. He was too young for this; he would make too many mistakes. A child.
Gasping and whimpering, fighting back the urge to scream, he slowly pulled the glass shard over his skin, slowly scraping off the outer layer. Bit by bit, section by section, slowly pulling himself apart.
He was just a child. He was irrational, naïve, he was stupid and he didn't understand the world. He needed to prove to them that he was worth it and even after all that he was still just a child.
Dark red metallic blood blossomed from the exposed flesh, sizzling and crackling from the wires and circuits beneath it. His skin made a sickening, wet slapping noise as it landed on the tiled floor, more blood oozing out from underneath it.
He was a child. He needed to take himself apart so that he could fix that. Take himself apart, pull himself apart, and analyze what he found. The shard, a remnant of what used to be his bathroom mirror, fell to the floor, slipping from his numb fingers.
He was a child and he couldn't stop. Nails digging into his arm, he pulled away more skin, exposing more secrets. It was becoming clearer now. He just needed to understand. Then he wouldn't be a child. They wouldn't call him a child.
No no no, he wouldn't be a child anymore. No longer a child. He couldn't be a child. Blood covered his fingers and they slipped, dragging a trail down the rest of his arm.
He was just a child.