Ivy Bathory

[52]: Just take me.

"Go wash up." She instructed. "I'll take you back home after that."

Kent frowned.

Take you back? What does that mean?

He voiced out his thoughts, almost sounding alarmed. Ivy ripped a sheet that came apart with a loud tear, she struggled with it as she spoke.

"You need to get back to your home, Kent. For you and everyone's safety."

Ivy had no doubt. With Damon having been an inside source for the police in Claude's gang, it's no wonder the cops knew all about the gala and her involvement in Kent's disappearance. Tom, whose father was a big head at the station probably started snooping around inorder to case into his hands.

Kent frowned. He knew it meant time for him to leave and return to his actual life. It was time to tuck himself back into those walls and push all this behind him. He couldn't believe it and involuntarily, something a keen to rage simmered within him at the thought, and the realization fell upon him, choking the smallest breath from his nostrils. She was letting go of everything between them.

She'd chosen, and she'd chosen her side, the dark. Not their happy ever after.

He twitched and restrained himself as he felt a switch snap within him.

Kent stared at Claude for a second, hyperventilating and trying to take in everything, his eyes then subtly shifted to her, doing a quick check on her body to make sure there weren't any injuries or blood oozing out her body. He couldn't help it.

"Fuck." Claude groaned, trying to sit up.

"Stay down." Ivy hissed.

Kent slowly made his way out of the room and escaped to quickly wash away the red that sunk through his shirt and stuck against his body. His nose crinkled as he stepped under the shower, and bile rose up his nostrils when the metallic smell reached his nose. There was something about having the man's blood all over his body that didn't settle well with him. He adjusted himself and roughly began to wash away the blood, he scrubbed every inch until he felt his body go pink from strain. Frustration drugged his veins and he found himself having an inner violent battle with himself.

In between all this, he clenched his teeth and wondered how his life had gone from normal nights with his sister, Clara, Tom and turned to indecisive nights with blood and fear, watching someone almost die. This wasn't his place. This wasn't his life. And he couldn't go around acting like it would work out with time, as though he'd get used to it. No, he couldn't get used to the pain, the blood, the fear and apprehension. He just couldn't.

"Its all over." He muttered loudly to himself, placing his head against the ashy tiles and comforting himself. "Its all over."

He wasn't sure how long he spent, hidden in the bathroom, eyes shut as he struggled to push bile down his throat. Red trails flowed down his body to the floor at his feet. Within him, he made an effort at pulling the wires in his head together, yet each still snapped away from his grasp and flung his sanity away.

"Its over." He murmured again. "I can leave this behind. I can leave all this behind me."

He wasn't sure how to though. He wasn't sure he could just turn away and leave Ivy behind.

You're not all that, Carter.

"Its all over." He cried to himself.

You're nobody's favourite.

"I'm leaving all this behind."

This time, it descended unto him like the last dong of a of a bell. He slid down to the floor, and let his head fall. His tears got lost in the water. And a sharp sting of pain pierced his chest. Forever went by as he cradled himself on the floor.