Pookie: Mun-mun
Dyssklaymor: Let's face it, if you've gotten this far, you know the deal.
Stop twitching, you're making me go cross-eyed
We All Fall Down
They were standing in what Bradley could only have described as a Hall, capital letter intended. The room was vast, several times the size of his apartment and made entirely of stone. Massive pillars lined the central walkway and the shadows beyond them were thick, barely illuminated by the lights that had been intermittently placed along the walls. He had the feeling that if he spoke above a whisper his voice would be seized by the enormous space around him and it would be carried away, echoing along the columns and through the archway he could distantly make out at the far end of the room.
"Bradley."
He blinked, pulled from his examinations by the sound of his girlfriend's voice. She was looking at him, every shred of her previous fear gone from her eyes.
"What are we doing here?" He asked softly, unable to keep the accusation from his tone.
She flinched; he felt a little better. Perhaps she was still human after all.
"Waiting." Her breath came out in a weak murmur and her lashes flickered over her dark eyes for a brief instant.
When she looked back at him he could see her, could see the whirlwind of emotions warring in her gaze. Before he could even begin to identify what he saw in her eyes they settled, emotions disappearing to be replaced by that look, that hard-as-granite look that chilled him to the bone.
"Waiting for what?" He pressed, trying to keep the tremor from his voice.
She took a deep, shuddering breath and opened her mouth to speak. He realized with a start that there were tears on her cheeks, glittering like hard diamonds against her flesh.
"I'm sorry." She whispered the words, her voice hoarse.
"It's funny, how little those words can mean."
Bradley turned toward the source of the comment and felt the tight ball of dread that had been sitting in his stomach for days suddenly expand, spreading through his entire body. The man walking toward them out of the shadows was tall, of middle-age with dark, gray-streaked hair and a thick beard. He smiled a little smugly as he came to a halt beside Yume.
"Especially," He continued, "when the person who says them isn't really that apologetic to being with."
Bradley had thought Yume was pale before. Now he was able to watch as the last of the blood slipped from her face. She drew her shoulders in almost meekly, lowering her gaze. She looked so strange next to the other man, vulnerable in a way that Bradley had never imagined she could be. Gods she'd always seemed so strong…
He licked his lips, forcing his attention to the stranger.
"What are you talking about?" His own voice sounded entirely too calm for this situation and he wondered about it.
"Shall I tell him Yume? Shall I tell him everything?"
"Tell me what?"
He watched as his girlfriend hunched her shoulders even lower, seeming to want to collapse in on herself. She didn't look at him.
"I didn't want it to be this way Brad, I really didn't."
"Oh my dear, do stop with the melodrama." The stranger offered a pleasant smile than raised the hairs on the boxer's arms. "My name is Gunner Valhendt. I am the Headmaster of the Rosenkreuz School. It truly is my pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"I'm afraid that I can't say the same." Bradley replied stiffly. "Yume come, we're going."
"Oh no Mr. Crawford." Valhendt put a restraining hand on Yumemiru's shoulder, holding her at his side. "You are not permitted to leave, not until you have heard everything that I have to say."
"Now wait just a minute…"
"No." Valhendt smiled silkily. "Listen. Listen first. Then, if you are still eager to go we will…negotiate."
The words sent a thrill of pure terror down Bradley's spine. If he could only get to Yume, get her away from him. Then they could run, could get away…
"Though I admire your courage and strength of will Mr. Crawford, I must insist that you stop resisting me. Now, Listen."
And suddenly Bradley Crawford, who had never done anything against his will in his entire life, was standing frozen in place and he was listening.
The voices were growing louder. Something about this place, the stone walls, the damp rooms, the myriad heartbeats, the shiver of power…something was giving the voices strength. Where once he had been able to resist now he was hard pressed to keep the constant whispers from overwhelming him. He itched, oh how he itched…the blood in his veins making him want to scream…
"Go away." His tone was pleading. "Please…" He let out a tiny sob and pressed his face against the door. His skin was streaked with dried blood; it had caked under his fingernails and stained the pale flesh of his lips.
For hours he had been trying to make it stop, trying to make his blood calm enough for him to be able to think. They had taken everything from him that he could use as a weapon so he'd used his nails, his teeth, the walls around him as he tried to make it cease.
Was it truly God, Farfarello? You know it wasn't. There was someone else. Afterward you couldn't get the blood off your hands…
"Noooo." He whimpered, slammed his forehead against the rough stone once, twice until the skin split.
Your parents, and your little sister…
"Stop it. Stop it!"
God. God thinks you're pathetic because you can't even admit to what you've done. And you did do it Farfarello, make no mistake about that…
"No! God will suffer for what he has done!" He snarled, leaping to his feet, single golden eye gleaming with brilliance.
God doesn't suffer Farfarello. He has everything, he knows everything. He can see what you've done…
"It itches." He murmured. He dug his fingers into his forearm until the digits turned white with strain. "It itches…it burns…" Flesh gave beneath his nails and blood spurted anew, staining skin and dripping to puddle on the floor.
God is punishing you for what you've done. You are the one who must pay for this. He is demanding payment for the debt.
He curled up on the floor, wrapping his arms around himself and making a soft, keening noise in his throat. Everything itched. Everything hurt. Everything burned.
A soft voice silenced him, a voice he had not heard in a long time. It was a female voice, high, with a childish lisp and the sound of it sent a chill down his spine.
Now I lay me down to sleep
"I said be SILENT!"
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
"Stop, oh please stop…"
and if I die before I wake,
He covered his ears with his hands, squeezing his eye shut as he tried to block it all out.
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
There was a brief pause and then he felt a ghostly hand slide over his hair.
Why are you crying Jei?
"I…I…"
Ssh. The hand patted his head awkwardly. It's all right now.
"Naomh.."
He lifted his head, golden eye seeking desperately until it found…
Nothing. An empty room, a stillness, the darkness that had surrounded him since he came to this place. Pain filled his solitary eye and he lowered his head again, burying his face in his arms as, with great, shuddering sobs, he began to cry.
"What are you doing to him?" Yume was staring up at Valhendt her eyes wide with fear. "Stop it. Stop whatever it is! You can't…"
"Tsk. Tsk." The older man patted her head as one would a child. "Calm yourself Yumemiru. He is not in any pain. I am merely…" His lips curled into a cruel smile. "…educating him."
He should have seen the blow coming. She was, after all, a woman. In the end he only caught the blur of motion out of the corner of his eye, and then pain blossomed in his cheek as her fist connected. Blood spurted in a crimson arc and he gasped, turning shocked eyes to stare at her.
"Let him go." She hissed. Her eyes, usually so dark were the color of pale honey and burning into his face. He felt a strange ripple in his mind, felt something tugging at him, insisting…
"No…" He managed to hiss, gritting his teeth as he fought back. He pushed against her with his mind, felt her slip a little before regaining her balance. Her thoughts leaked around his own, half-desperate half-mad as she scrabbled for more strength, more power, just enough to overpower him…
Now or never…have to…decided…can't let him…get away…
Nagi swallowed heavily, rearranging the flowers he held in his hands for the fiftieth time that afternoon. He'd picked them from Tanaka-san's garden (with her permission of course), choosing each blossom with care. Now he was waiting for Isoki…Mami-chan, to pass by on her way home from her piano lesson. He glanced at the watch that Toshihiro had given him when the others came for dinner.
Mama said you've never had a birthday, The older boy had said as Nagi hesitantly unwrapped the package. Michi, Kyo and I thought you could use one.
When he'd seen the watch Nagi's heart had skipped a beat. It was an expensive one, not something one usually gave to a child. Apparently Tanaka-san had mentioned his tendency to wander and not return at dinnertime and her other children had taken this into consideration when they bought his gift.
Now Nagi smiled at the memory and felt a warm rush of happiness and affection fill him. He'd never had anyone who cared where he was before, or what he was doing, or who asked him what he liked to eat, or who bought him presents…
Mami-chan should be passing by any minute…
"Nagi-kun!"
He smiled as he caught sight of the familiar dark pigtails and grinning face. The young girl was running toward him, her school bag slapping her thigh as she moved. When she came to a halt in front of him he gave a polite bow and offered her the flowers, watching as her face lit up.
"Oh Nagi-kun!" She giggled as she took them. "Arigato."
"I…I thought you might…like them." He blushed a brilliant shade of crimson and she laughed delightedly.
"I like them very much Nagi-kun. You're so sweet to me!"
She leaned forward then and, much to his shock and embarrassment, kissed him lightly on the cheek. Then she laughed again, watching as he turned another interesting shade of red.
"Awww, look at the two little lovebirds."
Nagi stiffened, the color receding from his cheeks as he caught sight of his usual group of tormentors. They appeared to have tired of waiting for him to pass on his way home and decided to seek him out instead. If only Mami-chan weren't there…he didn't want her to see him get beat up!
"Leave us alone." Nagi said softly, eyes darkening.
"Ooh. Did you hear that guys? Pipsqueak wants us to leave him alone with his girlfriend."
They laughed, and the leader closed the distance between them.
"I don't think we're gonna do that." He replied. "Are we, guys?"
His friends laughed again, moving to circle the two smaller children, forcing them to huddle together.
"Leave us alone." Nagi said again, trying to sound firm. He squared his shoulders, lifting his jaw a fraction and glaring at the leader for all he was worth.
All he received was a fist to the cheek for his trouble. He heard Mami-chan's surprised cry as he went down, felt her hand on his shoulder.
"Why don't you go pick on someone else you big jerks?" She demanded.
"Little brat."
One of the boys shoved Mami-chan and she tripped, falling backwards to land on the concrete. The bouquet that Nagi had picked for her slid from her fingers, the flowers scattering across the sidewalk. Muddy shoes stepped on them, crushing the stems and delicate blossoms into nothing.
"Nagi-kun…" Mami-chan was still on the ground, fear in her eyes.
The small boy climbed, swaying, to his feet. His eyes were gleaming strangely, his hair lifted up off of his neck as if stirred by a strong wind. He pulled his friend to her feet and placed her behind him, keeping her as close as possible.
"What do you say we have a little fun with these two, eh fellas?" The leader smirked, rolling up the sleeves of his school uniform.
Nagi suppressed a shudder. Whenever they did that…it meant a solid beating and more bruises than he cared to think about.
Oh if only Mami-chan weren't here! What if she got hurt? They'd already pushed her down and made her drop her flowers…
He had to protect her. Had to make sure they couldn't hurt her, couldn't do anything else to them…
Someone tried to grab Mami, to pull her away from him. He heard her surprised cry, heard the fear lancing through her voice and then…
Everything went still. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he felt the thick build of power housed in his belly uncurl itself and begin to rise up. It coiled, like a cat preparing to spring on its prey and he felt a slight smile touch his lips. The power demanded that it be released, refused to accept any denials and for once Nagi was at a loss to provide any. These boys were going to hurt him, were going to hurt Mami. If he didn't do something…
He raised one hand, allowing the fingers to slowly spread outward until his palm was flat out, facing the sky. Power rushed through his arms, through his brain, through his lungs until he could scarcely breathe and then, just when he felt he could no longer hold it inside…
Time resumed.
Everything exploded in less than a second and he watched, detached, as his attackers were thrown like rag dolls in a wide circle, away from where he stood. He and Mami were safe in the eye of the storm but the others…
They landed with sickening thuds, dull crunches, heads and limbs smacking hard surfaces before they slid limply to the ground. They lay where they had fallen and they did not move, and he could already see the blood beginning to pool beneath their bodies…
It was only gradually that he realized there was sound somewhere beyond the silence that seemed to have devoured him. There was a high, shrill screaming going on somewhere, a sound of horror that vibrated its way into his bones. He frowned, blinking, trying to focus his senses enough to figure out where it was coming from…
Mami was the one screaming. Why was Mami screaming?
Oh. Oh no. Not this. Not again.
He stumbled backwards, tripped over a leg and stared in utter horror at the body of the young boy lying still on the ground.
"I…I…" He swallowed. "I'm sorry." He whispered brokenly.
Then he was running. Running, feet slapping the ground with a rhythmic smack-smack-smack. He was running, and his lungs were bursting for air, and there were stars swirling in front of his eyes, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
No. Not this. Not again.
"Let him go." She repeated the command and he visibly faltered, his expression strained.
"Yume…" He snarled, trying to rally his strength. "Even if…you f…force me off…aren't g…going…to win."
"You can have me." She said softly. "If you just let him go…"
He ground his teeth together, felt blood leaking from his lip where he'd bitten it through.
"Never." He managed to grind out.
Anger flashed in her eyes and they were suddenly black, black, black as she advanced on him.
"LET HIM GO!"
He gasped, stumbled backward, felt his grip weaken…
"Yume?"
Schuldig was half-awake when the voice came rolling into his mind. It wasn't loud enough to bring him fully to consciousness, barely registering as more than a whisper in his thoughts. Its echo however reverberated through his skull, growing louder with each pass until it was enough to rattle his teeth in his skull. He rolled off the cot in the infirmary with a muffled curse, popping back up to deliver a furious glare to the general population.
Scheiße! What in Hell was that?
Schuldig. The voice was amused now, and softer, but it still made him wince in pain.
What? He demanded sourly.
I have a task for you Schuldig.
The boy fell silent, all evidence of temper fading in a heartbeat as the words settled into his brain.
Before they'd sent someone to talk to him, to explain a few things to him before he could be considered a student of the school. There were, the woman had informed him, only three general requirements made of all who studied in Rosenkreuz Academy. The first was loyalty, loyalty to the school and to the organization in general was to be put before all other things. The second was discipline, in that all students had to apply themselves fully to whatever task set before them. The last, and the one that made him most uneasy, was obedience.
He was to do whatever a teacher asked of him. No matter what he thought of it, no matter how it rankled him, he had no choice. Failure to comply would result in strict punishment, loss of privileges and demotion from whatever level he had achieved in his studies.
All right. He winced at the sound of his own mental voice. He sounded…weak. He swallowed and forced his expression into something a little more defiant. If you need me so fucking badly as to wake me up like that I suppose I'd best do whatever the hell it is you want done. He paused. So?
There was a soft chuckle and it sent a chill of fear gliding down his spine. Whoever this guy was, he made Schuldig uneasy.
Come down to the Main Hall. Remain out of sight and wait for my signal. I will explain what you are to do and you will do it, without question. Do you understand?
Schuldig bristled slightly. He'd been ordered around for sixteen years already, and for those sixteen years he had been disgustingly obedient. However, his recent escape from the hospital and his journey to the school and infused him with a touch of defiance, and more self-confidence than was probably healthy in a young man. Where once he would have followed without question, now he wanted nothing more than to spit at the demand.
However, the alternative, as his "instructor" had informed him earlier, was to return to the mental hospital and that was something he was unwilling to even consider.
So, despite his suspicion and his new desire to be sulky and defiant, the sixteen-year old German boy found himself pulling on a pair of shoes and heading for the door of the infirmary.
Somehow he knew he was going to regret this.
"Bradley, run." She whispered.
"What?"
"I thought I could stop him." She replied, circling around so that she stood between her boyfriend and her old master. "I thought I could make him let us go."
"You're strong Yume." Valhendt admitted calmly, wiping blood from his lips. "But you are not that strong."
"I know." She flicked her fingers at the tall man behind her. "Bradley if you don't go now you aren't going to be able to get away."
"I'm not leaving you here with him." Bradley snapped. "Are you mad? Come with me."
"I can't."
"Then I'm not going anywhere either."
There were tears on her cheeks and she looked so pale…but her eyes were black as pitch and there was something wild rising from their depths…
"Yume…"
There was a flash of something, like the air itself was bending around them and Yume cried out, gasping. She slid backwards a few feet before stopping, arms outstretched.
Schuldig was watching the scene unfold from the shadows of one of the columns. He was secretly impressed by the girl, though he knew enough of the situation from Valhendt's explanations to know that she was a traitor. The German man was strong, far stronger than Schuldig had ever imagined someone could be. The fact that she wasn't dead yet was a testament to either her own power, or her strength of will.
She was bleeding now. Eyes, nose, mouth, ears, he could see crimson trails leaking across her pale skin. It wouldn't be long. The pressure on her brain was going to kill her soon.
With a quiet grunt he glanced over at the Headmaster. Valhendt was sweating. Hmm…
Bradley watched in horror as his girlfriend fell to her knees. She was breathing heavily, deep, wet gasps that sounded as if they had something other than air in them. Every part of her body was shaking with strain and he could see the tendons standing out against the skin, threatening to snap. His vision was a little fuzzy and it was all he could do to focus on her, to take that first step toward her fallen form…
A flash, her face in the sunlight as she gazed up at him without recognition…
"Hello. Have we met before?"
The pain, oh the pain…
"Nooo!" He lunged for her, reaching, trying to grasp her, to save her, to do something before…
It slammed into his brain with the force of a freight train and he crumbled, crying out in pain. Something wrapped around his mind and squeezed until he saw stars dancing in front of his gaze, until he could scarcely breathe and it was all he could do not to pass out.
Her face, eyes closed as she lay in their bed, moonlight illuminated her features so clearly. She sighed and curled more tightly under the blankets, hair sliding like silk over the pillow…
The feel of her skin under his fingers, the softness of it, the smooth curves and bumps of her body as he explores…
Her laughter, startled by something he said and filling the silence in the room with something rich and warm until he can only laugh in turn…
Then a strange ripple, his fingers clutching uselessly at his sides as he slides the rest of the way to the floor.
"Ow." She muttered, rubbing her nose.
"Oh jeeze, I'm sorry." Bradley Crawford took a measured step back, reaching out to steady her with a hand on her elbow. "Are you all right?"
That wasn't right. That was the past, that had already happened. He was only able to see the future…
Then the lights went out and his last coherent thought was swallowed by that dark thing wrapped around his brain. He whimpered something, a name, an endearment, a farewell, and there was no more.
Suichi Takatori was standing on the balcony of his apartment, eyes closed as he enjoyed the cool air sighing across his skin. He'd been sleeping soundly, up until around an hour ago. The nightmares had been growing steadily worse over the past few weeks and it had gotten to the point that he couldn't get one good night's sleep in ten. If things continued on in this manner…
"Suichi-san?"
He turned around, trying to ignore the wave of exhaustion that threatened to take his legs out from under him. By all rights he should have gone back to sleep by now but the thought of returning to those nightmares…he shuddered.
"What is it Omi?"
The boy standing in the doorway looked terribly shy, his cheeks red, his eyes downcast.
"Aren't you cold?" He asked softly.
Suichi smiled slightly and moved back into the warm interior of his apartment. The boy moved hurriedly out of his way, flinching away from him. The sight made Suichi wince.
His brother's son. He'd been kidnapped and Reiji had left him for dead. It was only with Kritiker's assistance that Suichi had been able to rescue the boy. Although now grandfather was talking about keeping the boy and training him…Suichi sighed. Why had they even bothered to save him if they were going to force him into hell?
"What are you doing awake at this hour Omi? You were supposed to be in bed long ago."
"Keiko-san put me to bed at 8 o'clock." The boy replied. "She read me a story and tucked me in like she always does."
"Then what are you doing up?"
The boy shrugged a little, glancing away.
"I heard you."
"Hmm?"
"You were crying." Omi looked up at him. "I didn't know adult cried. I cry sometimes when I feel scared but Persia-sama tells me I should be stronger than that."
"Don't listen to him." Suichi said abruptly. Then he blinked. "I mean, he doesn't know everything." He offered a weak smile. "Sometimes people just need to cry. There's nothing wrong with it."
Omi smiled.
"I'm glad. I don't like being weak."
Suichi felt a stronger smile threatening to take over his facial expression and he forced it back with a rough swallow.
"Come on then, back to bed with you."
The boy turned back toward his own bedroom obediently, hurrying to jump onto his mattress before settling under the blankets with a sigh. Suichi tucked him in, brushing dirty blonde hair away from the boy' forehead.
"Suichi-san, can I tell you a secret?"
"Hmm?"
"Promise you won't tell Persia-sama?"
Suichi smiled.
"I promise."
"I have nightmares sometimes." The boy said solemnly.
Suichi sighed, reaching over to turn the light out.
"So do I Omi. So do I."
She was sitting in the dark. It had been hours, minutes, seconds, years, how long she didn't know. Every part of her body screamed with pain, the agony that told her she had strained her gift beyond its limits. That, and she had been repeatedly pummeled with wave after wave of psychic energy from one of the strongest psychics on the planet. She sighed.
They'd healed her. That was what she couldn't figure out. Her only chance had been to overpower Valhendt, to force him to relent and leave Bradley alone. When Valhendt defeated her that should have been the end of it. She knew enough about her gift and her own body to know that she was going to die. She'd put their lives on a gamble, hoping that her gift would be enough to save them.
She'd been wrong.
So why was she still alive? It didn't make any sense. Surely they would have killed her by now…
The lights came on. The door opened. A young man stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, leaning against it.
"Well this is new." She muttered. What was Valhendt playing at? This boy was younger than she was and he looked…well, terrified.
"They're watching." He said softly. He didn't move from his position against the door. If anything he huddled against it as if he wanted nothing more than to escape through it and out into the hallway once again.
"They're always watching." She leaned her head back against the wall. "You'd better do whatever it is they wanted you to do."
He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. When he opened them they were glazed with tears.
"I'm sorry." He whispered. "Please…I'm sorry."
She offered him a slight smile.
"It's all right. Not like you have much of a choice." When he still hesitated she gave a soft laugh. "Best get on with it. They'll only be angry if you put it off."
He nodded jerkily and moved toward her, falling stiffly to his knees. She watched him with sympathy. Gods, had she ever been that young? No doubt in a few years he would have lost this innocence, this fear, this kindness. She'd lost it quickly enough.
"I'm sorry." He whispered again.
She smiled, eyes sliding closed.
"I know."
Then he pressed his hands to either side of her head and squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body trembling.
I hope you can forgive me one day, Bradley. Until then…
She opened her eyes, blinking rapidly as she struggled to focus. Emerald eyes were level with her own, filled with tears and the kind of pain that tore at her heart, though she wasn't quite sure why.
"Hello." She said pleasantly. "What's wrong?"
The boy let out a high, keening wail and threw himself at her with enough strength to knock the wind out of her body. She patted him awkwardly, uncertainty painting her features.
"Whatever it is I've done to upset you," She said softly. "I'm sorry."
Watching through the one-way glass, Brad Crawford felt his heart crawl into his stomach and begin to die. The woman in the room before him had nothing in her eyes, only a vague sort of concern for the boy she held sobbing in her arms. There was nothing of the woman he had left, none of her memory, her wit, her pain. There was only a woman who had never done anything, never been anyone, never loved or lost or hurt.
She probably didn't even know what her name was.
"Well Mr. Crawford?"
He took a deep breath, felt something slip away from him as he turned to face the older man standing a few feet away, watching him expectantly.
"You won't hurt her?"
"If you do as we say, she will not be touched." Valhendt replied easily.
"Not even by the students." Bradley insisted. "No gifts, no snipers, nothing. I want…" He faltered. "Just leave her alone."
"You have my word. She will remain unharmed so long as you cooperate with our organization. Should you do anything to go against this her life, of course, will be forfeit."
Bradley looked again at the room. Two men had come to drag the boy away. She was looking at them, confusion apparent in her gaze.
"Wait," She called, stumbling to her feet. "You can't…"
They slammed the door. There was a flicker then, annoyance flashing across her face. For an instant she was Yume, she was stubborn and foolish and the woman he loved more than anything in the world. Then it was gone. Her eyes were blank, her expression flat.
He turned away abruptly, not wanting to see. It was Yume and it was not Yume, and that hurt more than he'd ever expected it to.
"I will do whatever you ask of me." He said softly. He held out his hand. "We are in agreement."
"Good." Valhendt's tongue flicked across his straight, white teeth and he took Bradley's hand in return. "I am glad to hear it."
They shook hands, and Valhendt nodded to his assistant.
"See that a room is prepared for Mr. Crawford. He will be a student with us from now on."
Bradley saw the cruel, satisfied smile that crossed the man's face then and he felt the black silk of despair beginning to tug at him. Inwardly he steeled himself, refusing to submit.
He would survive. He would train. He would become stronger than Valhendt, stronger than Rosenkreuz. He would train a team and shape them into the perfect weapon for revenge. And then, one day…
The world was falling apart, shaking at the seams and trembling with the force of the explosion. He could see shock in their faces and he felt the warm glow of satisfaction in his chest as he realized that they were going to die. They were all going to die.
He smiled, stretched his arms out wide, and fell. The wind rushed by and he could vaguely hear them screaming, cursing him as they died. It made his smile widen, even as he hit something that drove sharp pain into his chest and made blood fill his mouth.
He fell for a long time.
When he finally hit the water it was a kind of relief, to have that dome close in over his head. It was suddenly so silent, so still, and he could close his eyes for the last time…
Bradley Crawford followed Valhendt's assistant to his new room. Tonight he would go to sleep. He would be obedient, the perfect little slave.
And then, one day…
She smiled at him, face in sunlight. She laughed and the sound tore his heart into a million peaces.
He bit his lip until it brought blood, and this time when he smiled blood ran down his chin and dripped onto the white collar of his shirt.
Blood on white.
General Note to All:
Who wants a sequel? I'm not going to spend all of my Winter Break writing it if no one's going to bother reading it. Give me five good reviews telling me why I should continue and I'll think about it. Otherwise...
Ta-ta. Borgie-chan out.