Yes, she was better off far away from him. He had nothing to offer that would please her when his whole existence in itself brought her discomfort. He had told himself this several times to keep on reminding him why she needed to go. They were better off away from each other, somewhere everyone could leave in peace.
As she tried to kiss him, he shut his eyes and instilled more darkness into himself. From the moment he was born, everyone had recoiled, wondering what he was. He had always been different from the others as a child. Everyone was confused as to whether he was a vampire or a Witch. Everyone said his mother’s genes as a human must have been dominant over him, and that’s why he was the way he is.
"Give into me... Olive... " Raziah cried out in a desperate plea just as he sealed his lips away from her. Shutting himself to the abyss of his unending memories filled with torture, he was pulled into it.
A younger version of Aragon had been chained to the walls. Both hands and legs were held, and he had been made to lay down. There wasn’t a shred of clothing on him, and his blue eyes were nothing short of empty. His body could tremble uncontrollably from dusk till dawn, and the anonymous figure of either a man or a woman towering above him with red eyes filled with silver dots laughed devilishly like a maniac.
Aragon had cursed and cursed and cursed till his throat ran dry. He couldn’t even feel the hunger or thirst anymore. His body felt numb from all the torture he had gone through, and it was sickly to the thought that it happened almost everyday.
"Don’t you worry," The man would squat close to him and run his fingers, dragging his long nails across Aragon’s scalp through his hair, "All I’m doing is trying to figure out what you’re. You’ll be free before you know it," The Maniac would then laugh like madness was erupting from his throat, and Aragon’s body would almost leap when the man leans over and press his lips on his.
As if that wasn’t enough, some creatures would join him soon enough. They all looked like they were in their right senses, and at first, Aragon could tell that there was something terribly wrong with them. They were Vampires and witches amongst them, but the rest were different and had their distinctive features.
They would climb on him, and different forms of atrocities were committed right there. The level of violence both physically, mentally, emotionally, and sexually was deafening. Aragon didn’t know he could feel so much disgust and hatred for someone, targeted at the person responsible for it. He had been kidnapped for being born like this, and he hated himself even more for not taking his own life while he had the chance.
He soon lost count of how many times his lips had been robbed of its purity, and his parts sucked off their essence till he found himself turning into something different. Whenever it happened, the man or woman-whichever it was because he still couldn’t wrap his head around that part, the person would jubilate with a clap and twinkling eyes like he was finally getting some answers.
"Look at that," He would exclaim excitedly, "Your eyes are starting to change color. Oh, I knew you weren’t human! I mean, how could the combination of a half Vampire, half Witch, and a human give rise to a pure human? Impossible!"
Aragon wondered if she was right. He wondered if his father was truly a hybrid, but as time dragged on and the torture continued. The different levels of pain he felt, crying and begging at first till his body ran out of tears and his eyes lost all their water, his feelings evaporated and most times, he would just lay there with dark empty eyes as body parts crawled all around him.
He stopped caring.
He stopped waiting for a savior to get him out of there.
All he would imagine day and night was crushing the head of that man, an excruciatingly slow and painful death that would last years, and he would picture himself relishing and soaking in the warmth of the man’s screams and pleas for mercy. Aragon only wanted to know whom the man and woman were, and he swore to have their blood running down his face and body by the end of it all.
Raziah had felt him so stiff, his temperature rising with every ticking second. She turned his face so they were facing each other, and made work on his sealed lips with her tongue, trying to pull them out. It’s like he wasn’t using strength in sealing them again because she easily undid it, and pressed a deep kiss on his lips hoping that would make him open his eyes. Hoping it would renew him.
But when he did open his eyes, it wasn’t quite what she was expecting to see in them.
She completely froze, blinking to make sure it was him. He had never seen such bloodshot eyes in her life, and the darkness and red spots seem to be spreading around. The veins around his neck and the ones in his eyes had popped out, and Raziah’s fright of him multiplied over and over again at that sight. His left eye was badly twitching, and his arm that had been trying to pull her away was fisted into the balls, blood streaking out of them and dropping on the floor, forming a small poodle on both sides.
His breathy was oddly steady and then...his gaze shifted and caught her Hazel eyes that had gone wide.
She was still kissing him and didn’t relent. She knew danger was imminent, and just maybe kissing him wasn’t the right thing to do but she wouldn’t let go now, not when she has him where she wants. She may be selfish, but she still believed it was for the best. It was as if there was a clash of red and black fire in his eyes. Warning signals went off in her head again, but she held him even tighter against her body.
If there was one thing she had learned about him, it was that he needed her the most right now. She’s asked herself in the past several times why he always slept while cuddling him, and she recalled him once telling her that it was because he needed the cold she offered to calm him down. Now that he was burning the most, she felt like she was the only one that could help.
Cupping his neck, she tenderly worked on his lips.
She knew he was fighting a battle with himself. He was holding onto the brink of sanity and trying not to hurt her, because It was her. She could feel it more than anyone else. She could feel a different kind of racking pain coming from him, like he was caught in another world and was trying to leave there without hurting her. She didn’t need her vision to see this, feeling it alone was sucking her humanity out of her.
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