Replay {Skephalo}

27 | Memories

"Well as much as I'd like to just kiss you all day, I have some things to do." His faded smile returns slightly. "Like sorting that" I say, drawing a circle in the air around his arms.

Zak grabs my hand as I do so, tracing the outline of a larger circle around himself. We both laugh. "Yeah, I guess all of it needs sorting. Your head, your wrists, everything."

"Touché" Zak smirks, opening his phone and showing me my reflection in the camera. Truthfully, I did look awful as well. The cuts on my face hurt like hell, and I generally looked like I'd just got out of bed, which in my defence, was accurate.

I made my way towards the kitchen, turning on the main lights in the apartment as I went. The room suddenly flooded with light, causing us both to squint.

The knife block is still on its' side, one knife missing out of it. The largest knife is the one missing, the one Zelkam used. I shudder, deciding to throw out the knife. I'm not sure I can ever use it again.

"Zak, would you mind bringing over the knife?" I ask quietly. Silence is my only answer. "S-sure" he stutters, voice trembling significantly.

Almost all of the cupboards are open, they have been since I first woke up after being knocked out. Zelk must've rummaged through them, looking for something. I scan the far left cupboard, finding a box of painkillers.

The room is in complete silence, and not a comfortable one. Suddenly it fills with sobs, panicked whispering uttered among the tears. I turn around to find Zak in a ball on the floor, shivering uncontrollably. His head is buried within the ball, and he's rocking back and forth slowly.

One of his hands is outstretched towards the coffee table in the direction of the knife, fingers shaking. He retracts the hand, then swiftly moved it back again.

Stupid Darryl. Stupid. Why would you ask him to get the knife? That's literally what he had a panic attack over!

I'm so stupid.

"Zak! Oh my goodness!" I drop the painkillers back in the cupboard and rush over to the crying boy. The first thing I do is move the knife, which takes all of my willpower to do.

The knife scares me too, but not as much as him. Every time I see it, visions of what happened flood my head. Zelk cutting my scars open, slicing the blade across my cheek.

Tortured. I was effectively tortured.

Calm down, you're doing this for him.

My knuckles are white from how strongly I'm gripping the knife. Holding it at arms length, I take it over to the trash can and drop it inside, making a mental note to cover it in other stuff so nobody sees it and freaks out.

That knife has caused enough damage.

I'm honestly surprised the police didn't take it. They didn't need evidence, Zelk owned up to everything he did. I'm so glad there's no CCTV anywhere near here, or they'd arrest Zak too for attacking Zelkam.

Zak.

I turn to him, scrunching my eyes as my cheeks throb in pain. Zak's pulled himself up onto the couch, sat with his head in his hands.

It's a sorry sight. He's anxious far too often, and it hurts my heart a little more each time. He didn't deserve to go through this, nobody did, but I know he thinks otherwise. Guilt runs through that boy, he blames himself for everything.

Memories of the first time we met flood back to me. Images of the frail and broken boy who approached me in the library four weeks ago. The one who was always pulling his sleeves further over his hands,  hiding his pain from the world. How my heart melted as he hugged the dog in there, happiness seeming almost alien to him at the time.