Let Go

Prologue

A/N: trigger Warning: violence, blades, blood.
This scene is necessary for the plot, so bear with me.

Aiden's Pov

The first cut across my body stung the most.

The panic was greater than the pain, and fear was the overwhelming sensation.

What was he going to do to me?

When I sensed the warm lines of blood trickle down my torso, warmer tears threatened to fall.

With every slide of the cold metal tracing my skin, I felt my whole body tense, and the tendons keeping my will and stability together detach one by one.

The worst part of it all was that I didn't blame him. He was doing what he was forced to do, and I knew that whatever damage he was inflicting on my body was nothing compared to what they were inflicting onto him.

Suddenly my blood didn't feel warm anymore, and my whole being went colder than his grey eyes.

I did not scream. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing my pain. I tried as much as possible to mask it behind my neutral face. Though my molars were close to breaking because of the pressure I was putting on them from biting away the agony.

The guy who was inflicting the damage on me had his face covered, minus his steel looking eyes, which were cold, devoid of colour.

He did not speak, not once, and not even his breath was audible.

"Why are you doing this?" I grunted. I was met with a backhanded slap. It stung my face and I tasted the God awful metallic tang of my blood. I spat at his face.

He punched me this time and I could feel it bruising.

"Water," I muttered. I hadn't drank water since I got here, and I was pretty sure I would vomit if I didn't get the taste of blood out of my mouth.

He splashed the water in my face. At least a few drops landed in my mouth.

"Why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?" I tried again, in vain. He wouldn't talk or tell me anything. He even avoided looking directly at me, as if he was forced to do it. I was too conflicted.

Sometimes it felt like he was doing it for his own pleasure, yet other times it was like he was being held captive just as much as I was.

"Shut up." He finally said. He had a deep voice, however that could've easily been the effect of the mask he was wearing.

"You don't have to do this." I pressed further.

"Shut up." he said, albeit a little louder, less colder, with more emotion.

"You don't have to!" I yelled.

"Shut Up!" he yelled harder, removing the mask off his face and throwing it across the room. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

After seeing his furious face, I didn't speak. Hell I almost told him to continue. He was more hurt than I was, which I could tell from looks only. His face had spots of colour different than the rest of his skin. I suspected a case of vitiligo.

When the last cut was drawn across my stomach, warm blood oozed out, then mixed with something even warmer, clearer, and with no colour.

His tears. 

Hello and welcome to the long awaited Let Go. I hope you'll enjoy it.

More soon x.