Out of Your Control - a Hermitcraft AU

~ Chapter 15 ~

Another day wasted. And we're nowhere closer to finding out who did it.
Iskall sighs, walking back up to the room that he and Grian shared. He stopped crying constantly, so it confused Iskall when he heard small sobs coming from the room. He opened the door to see Grian sitting on the floor shaking.

"Grian?" he asked, kneeling beside him. "Are you okay?"

He didn't reply, only stare at the wall opposite of them. He whispered something and twitched, like he wanted to go somewhere, but was too scared.

"Grian, what's wrong?" Iskall asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me. Please."

"H-help me, please," Grian whispered, raising a shaky arm to point at the desk. He looked down, wiping his eyes and continued to shake.

Iskall got up, glancing at the desk as Grian continued to talk. "How easy would it be?" he choked out. "To join him..."

"Oh, Grian, no, no, no." Iskall glanced at the pocket-knife that lay open on the desk. Worst part was, it wasn't unused. How could such a small object hold such power over someone? He shook his head and turned to Grian.
"C'mere, Gri," he said, lifting up the smaller hermit with ease and set him on the bed. "Don't you dare give up. I swear I will kill you if you kill yourself. I'm going to go find some bandages, okay?"

Grian nodded, and Iskall left the room again, taking the knife with him. He headed downstairs looking for Xisuma. Surely. Surely, he would have some form of first-aid.

X did have bandages, and Iskall had to explain Grian's whole dilemma.

"We're losing people, even if they're not dead." X sighed, and bid Iskall goodnight.

He headed back to their room, and sat beside Grian. He pulled away, when Iskall reached out to him, but eventually let Iskall see the cut on his arm.

Iskall gently rolled up Grian's sleeve to see the damage. The cut wasn't that large, but it obviously still hurt. Blood dripped from his wrist and palm. Grian was still shaking and silently crying.

"I'm sorry, Grian," he said. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

"I know." 

They sat in silence as Iskall cleaned the cut, except for when Grian hissed in pain when Iskall dabbed a bit of polysporin on the cut. Finally, Grian broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Iskall. I shouldn't have been so stupid," he said, looking rather embarrassed and disappointed in himself. "I... it's just I feel like I would do anything to see him again. But he's g-gone."

"I miss him, too, but Grian? Promise me you won't hurt yourself." Iskall sighed, holding Grian in place as he wrapped his wrist in a type of fabric. "I hate seeing you like this."

"I-I'm sorry, I-I promise," he replied weakly.

Iskall hugged Grian close, not leaving his side, even after he fell asleep. Not even after he woke up, knowing that his friend needed him.

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Xisuma sat on the couch beside Scar, while Zedaph paced behind them.

"So, how'd you burn yourself?" X asked, wrapping a wet cloth around the burnt area on Scar's hand.

"I was cooking, making some eggs, but knowing me, I hit the handle of the pan and it flipped over, hitting my hand. Worst part was, now I don't have any food!" he tried to joke, but everyone's too tense. He sighs, thanks X and heads to his room.

"Zed, can you stop pacing?"

"Sorry," he said, leaning on the back of the couch. "It's just me thinking, in my own way, I guess."

"Speaking of thinking, did you get an analysis on the, uh, knife?"

Zedaph shook his head. "Whoever killed Mumbo must've known what they were doing because there were no prints. And they must've known the basic human anatomy 'cause it wouldn't have taken him long to die..."

X shivered, trying to shake away that gruesome thought. Someone actually did their research. On how to kill. He felt so useless. What type of leader can't protect anyone? Only me, that's who. 
"I'm going to head to bed," he said, glancing at the time.

"Okay."

He headed upstairs, taking off his helmet as he entered his room. He glared the mirror, at the scars on his face. The scars that were left by his friends, his family. Remember, that's why I wear my armour. They shouldn't know. He sighed, flopping down on his bed, trying to forget all of that.
He pulled up the statistics, looking for some form of a clue, but soon lost hope and closed it down and drifted into an uneven sleep.

Sorry I haven't been posting for a while... my computer died and I couldn't find my charger.
Anyways, thanks for reading Meerkats! 
(WC: 800)