Veined Soul (Darkiplier X Winged! Reader)

Twelve Years

It hurts...

She sat on the floor of her room, shrouded in the darkness of the night time around.

The ground was cold, uninviting. Concrete.

Her room consisted of nothing more than a bed, lamp, bookshelf, and a small window.

The window had a padlock on it, making it so that the window could never be opened.

The bookshelf was empty, not a single book on it other than a thin 12 page one with the words, "The Rules" on the front.

She was in the corner opposite of the floor lamp that wasn't on.

She could feel her heart constricting, squeezing as it resisted what had happened to her.

She let out a quiet whimper of agony as the pain set in. Her tiny body was wracked with waves of fatigue and weakness, causing her vision to be blurred and her head to spin.

Was she breathing? Had she stopped breathing?

She put a hand to her mouth, feeling the cold air around her pass in and out of it, causing her hand to be slightly wet from the condensation of her hot breath breathing back out onto her hand.

That boy caused this.

That black haired boy that she'd thought she'd known well.

She thought she could trust him.

He'd turned her in.

In her pain, her only comfort was the soft pearl grey wings on her back. They were only the size of her back, tiny and unable to support her weight yet much like that of a baby bird.

She had wrapped them around herself to cocoon herself away from the world, wanting nothing more than to make the pain stop.

She'd escaped from here around two months ago, living in alleys and trying to blend in with the crowd as she made her way farther and farther away.

And he found her.

He and several other boys had taken her in. They were without a home as well, living in an abandoned mansion on the hill overlooking the town.

No one had stepped foot in the place in 20 years due to it having once housed a serial killer and many, many, of his crimes had been committed within its walls.

No one stepped near the gate other than to observe from afar. Someone had started an urban legend that the killer still lived there and that the house was so haunted that even going within the courtyard was enough to cause you never to be seen again.

The boys, however, didn't care.

Or maybe they just didn't know.

They'd taken up residence in it, even starting to clean up and fix some of the things within to make it more liveable.

She'd stayed with them for two months.

One of the boys was the abandoned son of a musician's family.

Another was the son of a hotel owner that had attempted to kill him in a drunken rage, causing his neck to be forever scarred from the attack.

There was a boy from out of the country that had illegally stowed away on a transport ship and had been roaming since.

And then there was him.

None of them knew what his story was. He mentioned having a sister at one point and that she'd like to mess around with black magic but no one bought that.