The living are weak and feeble.
So easily swayed, so easily caught. We walk too unsteadily, but fall too quickly.
Weaknesses are many, where strengths are only little. Of this world, only the brave can see the horizon. But in all reality, that is not true - the horizon shows itself to everyone. Through thick, light will always be seen. And where tears show, you will surely find your way. This is the way - the way of unraveling.
They alive lay underneath countless layers of exhaustion. Wrinkles crease and fold with every breath taken. Stains will develop in places unseen to the eye. Faith will be lost to those who still try their hardest.
When life decides to snatch you away, it will do so mercilessly.
And you will fall. You will fall prey to those who hate you, to those who love you and to those who don't know you. You will become a victim of your own head, thinking sick thoughts that belong to the devil and speaking words that cut through flesh.
You can't see yourself from your surroundings, so you walk. You walk into a blindness of the heart and mind. So what if your soul belonged to you before?... Now, it belongs to nobody. As you grow, the days get more filthy. The sun seems to never show itself when you are awake, like it is punishing you for some crime you didn't commit. Well, what can you do?
Pain is a result of this. Pain will consume you like an animal sick of will.
It rages into your soul, flames licking your wounded parts till you become deaf to the dead. So powerful that it can break into your thick armour of strength. And after all this - all this slow torture building up inside you - you can do nothing but succumb to the poison of the mind. Now, when you move to speak, your body howls. When you walk, your heart aches under snapped ribs. As you talk to those shadows around you, you're merely drowning in your own blood.
...But it is merely a cover.
Under all that hate and red hating violence, there is something pure inside. Yet, the layers have built up too far and too high for you to dig them back. Reclaiming yourself becomes a fantasy, only a pathetic dream in a pit of lost directions. You build up illusions that you are a lesser form of your previous self, torn by all these winds around you.
You have lost. And once something is lost, it will never return again. But who is at fault?... Only you.
You were too weak, too forgiving, too naive. Never again.
Kill.
Vengeance.
Die.
I am not me anymore. I need to go back to before, I have to find my way back. A voice inside your head is begging for this, but you turn away. Two opposing forces battle inside your head, forever tearing that wound deeper and more ruthlessly. You're running through a forest without a way out of that barren field.
I hate, I destroy... I conform to my fate.
Things like these come almost as naturally as breathing. Thoughts like these poison your beliefs. Now, you've become this distorted sense of truth, following the hallucinations like a starved man. Stubbornness doesn't let go, pride holds on too tight. The hurt is never admitted and shame is washed over you so forcefully that you have no space to move.
Somehow, you've continuously lost your way. Pain has already played its part.
There are chains around you. They burn and bite, but you don't do a thing. Your shoulders are sagged with the weight of deep burdens, but you choose not to untangle them from your body. Something inside you grabs on too tightly to let go off, something is the cause of you turning into a monster.
Many think time heals the soul, but it merely worsens the sting. Festering and bubbling, you still grow bitter of your past. You still remember and hold on too tightly, re-telling things that were meant to be smoothed out. Like a man deprived of light, you open what is injured but ignore what should be cleaned. So wounds will still bleed out and hearts still stay abandoned. You choose to stare at the dark, yet ignoring the sun that is pleading to make morning with you every day.
Forgiving is not easy. The past is never so quickly forgotten. But if you tried harder, you will see how wrong you've been. Be brave and you'll understand. Be brave so that you may see the horizon again.
Keep holding onto that pain and you'll and up suffocate yourself.
Unravel yourself instead. Your soul does not belong in hell. It was not made to be abandoned so quickly by the likes of one so strong.
Beauty is there. Find it.
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The hand around Gunner's skin burned through the thin materials covering him. He felt a cold shiver course past his wrist into his arm and he winced, pulling back on the tight hold Skaris had on him.
"Hey." His voice left him before he could snatch it back. His eyes went straight to the knife that was being held to Mikkel's throat. With a sinking feeling, Gunner's sight followed the small trail of fresh blood that flowed down the man's nape when Viking pressed the blade down again.
The instant he spoke the word all three men snapped around, three pairs of bright glowering eyes snapped to him with inhuman speed. He was tempted to question everything he was seeing and hearing right now because it all seemed too insane to be real, but he pushed the thought out of his head and focused on the three in front of him.
Mikkel shifted on his feet only to be snarled at by Viking. With a loud warning, Mikkel stilled, eyes morphing into daggers. "What, human?" He spat out, glare digging into Gunner's soul.
"Don't you fucking dare say that like I'm some insect compared to you." Gunner snapped, eyes ablaze with a quiet glare. "I haven't done anything to you."
The man froze, eyes widening. Behind Mikkel, Viking blinked like he had just experienced something completely strange. Even Skaris who was in front of Gunner turned back to send him a raised brow. Gunner had never felt like this before, he was certain of that. He knew of lust, he knew of attraction to someone else, but never in this way. They drew him in, capturing his eyes and curiousity. There was something in the way they held themselves and how they acted. He couldn't say exactly what it was, yet it consumed his head like a stain on a piece of paper. Irritating and infuriating...
What was this? He wasn't acting like himself, Gunner thought. He didn't even know them. He was already held with one look. But he wasn't going to let this attraction control him like some damn sickness. They could say anything they want, but to be that disrespectful wasn't something that stuck well with Gunner.
He had to stop himself from getting so caught up in his own head.
At the moment, Gunner only had a single thought in his mind; how to get out of this situation.
This was no time to be acting like a swooning maiden, much less over three men he had never ever met before now. It was ridiculous and stupid. He was getting affected by them, slowly but surely, like a damn hypnotized person.
With a quick curse under his breath, Gunner growled at himself and ripped his eyes away, afraid that if he stared at the men too long he would be caught by their gazes again. At once his mind went back to the situation at hand and he assessed the positions of each man.
These men were being serious about wanting to kill each other, and there was no way they would be friendly about it either. Trouble was something that Gunner tried to avoid at all times if he could. It usually brought with it unwanted difficulties, the risks were too high and there were too big many consequences. Staying safe with what he did was better than inviolvng himself in things he had little power in... The three men embodied trouble.
His eyes glided down each of them, taking in their tensed locked muscles and alert forms.
None of the three were paying any attention to him now, their attentions back to each other as they continued to stare.
Gunner smiled, noticed the slightly opened door behind Viking. He hadn't noticed that it had opened before, but since the door swiped open so softly, he assumed that it had probably been pulled open just now when Mikkel had busted in and left it like that. After Viking jumped in, he had probably also discarded shutting the door again... but that wasn't a bad thing at all.
In fact, that was fucking brilliant. The door was pulled open just wide enough that Gunner would fit through. He just needed to be unnoticed and everything would go fine.
Good, Gunner grinned.
He was so absorbed with his thoughts that he hadn't noticed that Skaris had snapped around, eyes on his face. "...What are you smiling at, human?" He hissed. Gunner winced at his tone, pulling back.
The man's voice brought the other two's eyes to him, cutting through the darkening mood in the air like a knife across a throat. Gunner was suddenly very aware of the three sets of glowing, rich golden eyes that dug into him. The men's stares were so harsh on him that he was sure he felt each gaze burn with frightening intensity.
The man's voice melted and made its way under Gunner's skin, setting his mind into overdrive and making his curiosity spike again, but Gunner merely ignored it.
He needed to think fast, find a way to distract them long enough. His eyes lowered to his arm. "Let go of me, asshole."
"...What?" Skaris' eyes widened and he sent a questioning look. On the other side of the room, Viking simply stared, but his frown deepened. Mikkel's glare lowered as he looked down, eyes to Gunner from his taller form.
The men were bigger and taller than he was by a huge margin and if he was really caught in this fight, Gunner knew he would be ripped to shreds before he could even do anything. He couldn't win against these men. If anything, he wasn't even sure what they were, but he was willing to bet that he didn't want to stick around long enough to find out.
If possible, Gunner wanted to stop the men from getting into a fight with each other. Then, he could run. Run away from all this madness.
"Didn't you hear me?" A snarl before Gunner raised his head. "I said let go."
With a displeased grunt, Skaris scowled and turned back.
Gunner spoke, letting his voice float throughout the space. "I... I have the key to that chain on your neck. If you let me go, I'll hand it over to you."
This stopped the man. His head whirled back around. Viking was snarling at him, but Skaris only sent him a look. With a single tug, Gunner was pulled forward. "Hand it over first." His command gave voice to no other argument, voice so biting that Gunner felt his hand tremble slightly. "Now, human!"
The boy's fingers dove into his pocket. The man's eyes followed. The other two stared. Retrieving the batch of keys, he took them out and eyed them before he made out a smaller shaped key inside a mass of larger ones. With a flick, they landed on Skaris' opened palms. For a moment, the man's eyes stayed on Gunner, an unreadable expression flew past them before he finally broke eye contact.
Gunner watched as the man grabbed the thick chain's lock and plunge the key in. The lock clicked and the chain dropped with a deafening thud around the dark room. Gunner could only swallow a nervous gulp as his mind prayed that this would work.
His heart was still thundering in his chest, constricting and pounding away with fear. With his mind still coulded with mild terror, he couldn't find it in himself to think of any other plan of escape.
Then fingers around his wrist loosened, one by one, letting go ever so softly. Gunner held his breath.
"Nobody is going anywhere!"
He heard Viking's growl first, a horrible threat in the man's voice before it all happened, everything at once. Viking lunged forward, eyes set on Skaris who was now free from the chain that previously held him constricted.
With a screeching hiss, Viking's focus was now fully on the man in front of Gunner. Mikkel was pushed back roughly, snarling when Viking's blade swiped across his cheek to draw a long line down the man's face.
His hand shot forward the exact moment he crashed into Skaris. He dove the knife forward, aiming right at Skaris' throat. A second later and he would have been dead, but Skaris blinked sharply and pulled his body back. Barking in surprise at the quick attack, Skaris ducked the next hit to his leg before squaring his arms in front of him.
Without wasting another second, Viking leapt forward again and with every move, his attacks followed expertly behind them.
Behind him, Mikkel hissed before drawing his lips apart. Gunner's frozen state drew him to the open slash on the man's right cheek. A dim dizziness passed him as he looked at the sight of the man's blood dripping freely onto the floor. With sick realisation, Gunner suddenly understood that Mikkel's plan was to strike at the busy Viking. Mikkel had his sharp fangs on display, lickcing his lips like a predator would when on hunt.
Mikkel bent, eyes flashing to Gunner for an instance, and jumped. Gunner's blood ran cold.
Mikkel's fangs came closer... closer. Closer. Despite his mind's protest, his body moved on its own like a man possessed by some unknown force.
No, no, no!
He couldn't let them kill each other, Gunner's head was now filled with anxiety and worry - no more plans of escape in his mind. "Stop it!" A scream fell out of his lips as he ran forward. His heart pounded away as he moved behind Viking.
Yelping, Mikkel jerked suddenly, digging his heels into the ground. But the momentum was too huge to stop that abruptly and the next thing Gunner knew, the man's teeth sunk into his flesh. The fangs dug into a spot between his neck and shoulders, missing his throat by a few hand spans.
Gunner's mind tilted. Black spots appeared as the pain roared through his body, and all of a sudden he could do nothing more than clamp his lips down to stop himself from howling in agony.
There was a look of pure horror on Mikkel's face before he ripped himself backwards. His fangs tore out of Gunner's flesh like cutting through paper. Gunner screamed this time, the pain too much for him to handle. His own blood dripped down the man's chin, but the man discarded it, simply staring at horror at Gunner. Gunner didn't know what to make of it, but in his weakened state, his heart still consticted tightly at the sight of pain on the man's face.
Mikkel's eyes were clouded and dark, a look so terrifying on his face that Gunner felt himself grow still at it. When Gunner could no longer stare into those guilt-striken eyes, he pulled his eyes away. With a final weak whimper, Gunner took a single deep breath and turned around.
His shoulder burnt. His mind ached, and he so wanted to get rid of this fear in him.
The two others were still fighting, sending blow after blwo at each other without mercy. Viking had a single tear down his left arm, his face drawn in a tight grimace as he moved his dagger around. Skaris was hissing every so often, baring his teeth at the man in between in attack. Gunner's throat closed in fear when he saw the cuts across the man's face and around his neck. If they had seriously connected, Skaris would have already been long dead.
Viking barked in a low tone. With a sharp pull, he brought his blade down. Skaris dropped onto his knees, but not fast enough. His skin broke when the knife drew across his flesh just above his eye. He hissed and gave his head an angry shake.
As Skaris cursed to himself, the man moved swiftly to the side. He suddenly stumbled up, swiping his claw-like nails at Viking. With a wince, Viking brought his leg up and kicked Skaris square in the gut, sending him backwards into the wall. Any normal person would have stayed down longer than he had, but then again, Gunner knew that these men were anything but normal.
Chuckling dryly, Skaris pushed himself away from the wall. This time, Viking was slowed by his throbbing injured arm and he ducked far too late. His throat was grabbed and Skaris' nails dug into his skin. Blood pooled out in heavy drops.
Gunner could only stare in complete and utter uselessness.
Viking was coughing now, chocking in the other man's hold. He was bigger than Skaris, but no matter how much of an advantage you had on a person, strangulation would take away all your air before you could do anything.
Slowly, Viking's face turned grey. His arms dropped and stopped moving.
The instant Skaris' murderous eyes met Gunner, he felt nauseous. Where before, the man's eyes glowed with something so mysterious and beautiful, now it only frightened Gunner... It was horrifying, it was as if he was staring into the eyes of a true killer. At the sight of his eyes, Gunner's legs went into action. Even though his mind was a cluster of unfocused thoughts, his shoulder felt like it was burning under his skin, and his whole body shook with trembles, Gunner ran.
He launched in front of Viking.
Skaris yelped, eyes widening. With all his effort, Gunner tightened his palm into a fist and slammed it forward. The man blinked but didn't let go. Without another second to waste, Gunner kicked the man's knee. This time, Skaris staggered back slightly, his fingers unwinding around Viking's throat just enough for Gunner to push the man back.
Viking fell backwards, spluttering as he tried to gather his strength and air. Instantly, Gunner snapped around, eyes glaring at Skaris' own shocked eyes. He took the opportunity of sudden distraction to move around the man. With a slight smirk, Gunner's eyes fell to a security's card that peaked out from one back pocket. His fingers swiped, pulled the card out in a swift motion before he rounded back to slid the card into his own pocket.
Through the building fog in his mind, Gunner looked around as if suddenly just aware of each man.
Skaris was still standing frozen in his spot, the blood on his neck and face trailed down in continuous drops of red. Gunner's eyes traveled up and met the man's fierce ones. Throat hitching, Gunner tore his eyes from him and moved to Mikkel. He was in better condition, but the cut on his cheek was at least a few inches deep so blood came out as smoothly as water would. When he finally turned to Viking, the man was still glaring at him from his position on the floor, arm clutching the other in hopes of stopping the bleeding.
They weren't in good shape, but they were alive... And somehow that came as a relief to Gunner. He felt his anxiety simmer away, muscles relaxing as the corners of his lips tugged into a smile.
Gunner glanced at his shoulder, scowled and spat under his breath. "...Fuck, my shirt is ruined now." The boy frowned at the soaked material clinging to his skin. His voice resounded in the space, snapping each man's eyes to him, it was slightly shaking, but otherwise there was no fear left in it. "You should be damn thankful I'm still like this after you three created this mess."
He walked to the door, footsteps falling in rhythm on the hard ground.
When he reached the metal door, his uninjured arm pushed the door close before pressing the red lock button. Turning, Gunner smirked and fished out the two security cards he now had.
Mikkel jumped immediately, but Gunner was faster. "Don't move! I'll seriously swallow these two cards." The man halted immediately, eyes wide.
"You're insane, human." He hissed. "You can't possibly think tha-"
Gunner shrugged dismissively, blinking. "I don't care if it may not work, I'll force it down my throat."
That stopped Mikkel. His mouth opened to say something again, but he shook his head and bit his lips together in a tight line.
"Now," Gunner huffed as he dropped onto the spot he was previously sat in and tried to get more comfortable in his spot. "...This is fucking ridiculous. You clearly don't know each other well at all, and yet you still want to kill each other?"
A flash of anger flared across Viking's eyes and he stood up. "You don't understand anything, human."
"I don't." Gunner met his eyes. "But even if I was angry at someone, I wouldn't try to murder them. Maybe what they did was really bad, but that's stupid. Does that mean every time I get angry, I will stand up and promise revenge on that person?—Pull my hair out, curse and cry at the world for being so unfair? Do I let myself get so wounded up on the past and turn into some monster?... No, that is extremely low drama. What would it change?"
Gunner's voice was sharp with bitterness, and he turned away three men. His heart clenched tightly in his chest and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. The black dots in his vision swayed as he dug through his backpack, shoulder flaring in agony.
His voice shook this time when he talked, and he didn't bother to mask it with strength.
"...Whatever you want to do, I can't change a damn thing. So if you want to kill each other—go right ahead. But nobody is getting out here right now. It's morning—too much security and too many risks. You want to kill, wait until nightfall and get out of here and do that. I don't know about you, but I don't want to fucking die inside this place like a pathetic piece of shit. I'd rather die outside under the sky and stars."
Gunner looked at the men a last time. "And...if anyone dies, we all die together."
Once he found a more comfortable position, Gunner settled down and took out a roll of surgical thread and a small fine needle. When he found the lighter at last, he flicked it and waited as he ran the needle past the flame.
His vision shook. He pulled a long piece of thread off and tied the ends into a knot. With his uninjured arm, he took out a bottle of water and unscrewed the lid before holding it to the top of the already swelling holes on his shoulder. When the liquid touched the fresh blood - sending an excruciating burn around his body - Gunner grimaced, face tight.
With heavy breaths and shaking hands, Gunner peeled his shirt off. He hissed as he moved, but otherwise his eyes remained distant when he took out a dirty rag from his bag and bit on it, clamping down hard on the sort material.
Gunner forced his mind to clear before he pushed the sterilized needle down, and got to the grueling task of stitching the open bite wound up. The whole time he worked on his wound, he felt three sets of piercing eyes drive into his very being...
And somehow, it relaxed him. It calmed him down, a unfamiliar warmth settling in the centre of his chest like being out in the sun on a hot day. Despite the situation, he felt safe.
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Note: I would like to apologize if this chapter is a bit messy, or if I made any mistakes while writing this. I'm currently sick, and have this nasty re-appearing headache - my throat is burning and I can't focus very well. I really tried though.