H O R R O R S || B T S [Completed]

Prologue

What is humanity?

Is it the act of being human? The ability to have unique thoughts and endure diverse ranges of emotions? The blessing to bear words in which are spoken to others, and logicality as well as creativity to be shared across the expanse of the world?

Is it the act of expressing benevolence? Whether it be to individuals of same characteristics or other creatures in general? Assisting other's in need or simply paying a compliment to one drowning in gloom?

Is it the act of belonging to a species? Where everyone retains the same organs to live and bleeds the same color blood? Where everyone gains some sort of knowledge in which piles inside their brain, and feelings in which burn into their heart?

If this is humanity... What do we call those who stray from these deeds? Aliens? Freaks? Monsters?

What do we call those individuals who lust for the growth of power? Who dedicate their existence to build this wealth? Who kill and harm, in order to sustain their dominance?

Then again, do they not bleed scarlet and carry pumping hearts inside their chests with working brains inside their skull? Do they not show rare extensive periods of kindness? Possibly towards the ones they cherish? Do they lack the number of thoughts one thinks? Are the feelings they undertake dimmed?

Are they not human?

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The room was nearly pitch black, the only illumination provided by a sliver of moonlight peeking through a crack in the closed curtains. The temperature was strangely bitter, complimenting the snowflakes fluttering out the glass window.

It's always cold in winter.

A silhouette stands before the aperture, hands clasped firmly behind their stiffened back. Gaze trained to the storm brewing behind the glass panes, thoughts spinning in a pounding tornado. The figure inhales a sharp breath, releasing the collected air in a wheeze through their nostrils. Their foot taps against the polished wooden floor, sending a click to echo through the almost vacant space.

Another form sits drowsily within a straight backed chair, aching eyes burning within the darkness. Their body was slumped forward, elbows digging within the flesh of their knees as their head rests heavily in their trembling hands. Their breaths were short, quick paced, and silent against the other individual.

"What do we do?" The slouching figure speaks first, tone consisting of desperation and wavers. They lifts their neck up, turning their attention to the back of their companion. "What do we tell her?"

The other form does not respond right away, instead angling to face the person within the chair. They unclasp their connected hands, moving one to caress the growing dark beard upon their chin. Their voice is low once they answer, "Nothing. We tell her nothing."

The seated individual stares at the authoritive figure in confusion, shaking their head disapprovingly, "I-I don't understand... She should know-."

"She can't know." The bearded form crosses to a burly desk littered with countless papers. They lower themselves into the large, black office chair, leaning back in fatigue as their eyes shut. "Not yet... She's not ready."

"Sir," The quivering individual bites their lip, gulping at the forming lump within their constricting throat. "How can she protect herself is she has no idea what she's up against?"

The man sighs frustratingly, laying his palm over his eyelids. His head shakes frantically, before he removes his limb and shifts to lean upon the surface of the desk, "I don't know... Truly."

"She's gifted in self defense-."

"It's not enough." The harsh interruption takes the other figure by surprise, silencing their next thought words. The man slams his fist upon the wood, growling animalistically, "I'll make them f**king pay for everything! And if they hurt my daughter..."

The figure, shaking, traipses closer towards the desk, ignoring the fear building within their stomach. They whisper, "What if they attack?"

The enraged man's flaming temper diminishes slightly, his eyes focusing on a photo upon his desk. His fingers desperately wind around the frame, pulling the laminated memory more into view. A soft smile pulls at his lips as his gaze flickers upon the girl within the photograph, enlightened by the innocent smirk upon her face and brightness of her emerald irises.

"Call PD, tell him to be ready for the worst." The man returns the objects to its previous position, focus never leaving the individual within the picture. "Until they make a move, she stays... I'm not risking anything."

The figure nods, turning to exit the room before the call of their name halts their departure, "Mark."

Mark angles his body forward again, tilting his head intently toward his boss. He waits a few moments, before the man expands his idea.

"Not a word to her. Not from you, or any of the other boys. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, sir." Then, with a heavy heart, Mark disappears out the large door, closing it gently behind him.

The boss is left to his loneliness, gaze still glued to his precious possession. He releases another tired sigh, pursing his lips in anxiousness. He memorizes the captured female, drinking in her slender form covered with a navy gown from her feet stuck into black converse. Her mud colored locks spilled in waves to the bottom of her breasts, framing her pale face beautifully. Atop her head sat a graduation cap, a golden tassel hanging in front of her left eye. Freckles adorned her cheeks in a somewhat organized line, barely brushing the tip of her skinny nose. Her rose lips were pulled into a proud smirk, likely from the diploma within her hands. She was so happy that day.

"They're not going to lay a finger on you." He speaks to no one, narrowing his eyes at the female within the photo. Fists clenching at the events from earlier, while his insides flare with complete anger. "Even if I have to rip each and everyone of their hearts out of their chests."

He lost her once. Never again.

"Daddy promises."