Nightmares sliced through the mind of the Lycan who thrashed and struggled in the damp tangle of sheets. Prison came in the form of the soft grey Egyptian cotton sheets. An arm thrown in front of his face, the other arm launched a bottle of scotch against the wall before him. The bottle exploded in a shower of sparkling shards and amber spray, but even the sound wasn?t enough to pull Quinn from the terror that had enveloped him. Screams cut the silence, cries of pain and anguish, curses of hatred, and pleading for mercy. This was his own hell. Fabricated from the deepest darkest parts of his being, core memories that were so dark he dared not give them audience when he was awake.
It was his study, every book had been torn from the shelves, each tome had been hand selected by Quinn personally after his father died. His wet nurse had taught him was only as good as the books he filled his mind with. The woman was brilliant, and he?d pleaded to keep her on as his Nanny when she was caught stealing food. He was four and wouldn?t have heard of sleeping for anyone else. A temper tantrum was never rewarded, unless that temper tantrum kept a very important business man up for nine nights in a row. As he stood surrounded by the vast majority of his own knowledge, he tore through page after page. Screaming out in anger as he rocketed the binding of the books towards the door. They?d never hit their marks though as the door was barricaded by every piece of furniture in the room. Pacing back and forth, hands grabbing at the shaggy ebony hair as he stepped over the mangled bodies of those he loved. The scene was disgusting, and even more so as the light left the room. As night fell, the monster of a man knew he?d have company. There wasn?t a way to stop them, but the wards on the house still kept him inside.
Another night of torture, another serving of wolfsbane to bring him the verge of impotence as a wolf, another witch to mentally rack and force him to relive the weeks previous. Weeks spent in the dried filth of his slaughtered family, refuse, he?d gone to shredding books to pass the time, but there weren?t any left, and if he wasn?t counting the discarded pages then what? He considered peeling the threads from the bindings and count those next. Every time he thought of ending it, the witch pulled the thought from him, his mind was as weak as his starved body. Many a man could do deplorable things without any other options, but feeding on the corpses of murdered family? Using the same hands that tore them apart, to tear into them, just to sustain, because you can?t think about just ending it all. Every day before dawn, he was tied by thick silver chains to a chair brought it. Every day his wrists and abdomen seared as the chain sunk into his flesh, it would take him hours to break free, spending time focusing on that pain. Living in it, like his own escape, an oasis from this hell. Every morning he was left this way. Every morning he fought to free himself. Until the morning he just didn?t.
There was the sound in the hallway, the walking, steps like the pitter patter of fae. They brought the woman and this time, he didn?t have to wonder which room she?d enter. But instead of the typical blast to the door, destroying his furniture that would then have to be piled back up, no no, instead there was a call from the other side. The voice of an angel, soft like running water, tinkling through the pain and hatred. The voice that had saved his life so many times, ageless and perfect. He waited for this angel to stop the pain.
?Easy Big Bad, I?m here.?
Jolting upright he tore the sheets from himself and looked around the room as if the entire world had crashed around him. Eyes went then to the Muse before him and he lifted a hand to rub at the back of sweat soaked neck. Glance to the empty other side of the bed before he sunk against the headboard and spoke aloud. ?I need to get over some shit.? Careful to keep the please don?t touch me posture firm so she didn?t get a piece of that. ?I?m going to need your help packing his shit today.? He didn?t wait for her response as he stood up and went to find his clothes. Levi needed to have the things he had grown fond of from the house. Quinn was no longer going to pretend things were okay, he wasn?t going to play make believe that Levi was coming back, he would have invited him in the first place if he had needed him. Not taken off in the night with only a text message. No, Quinn wasn?t going to be there for him, he had made that choice when he left. He needed to move on. Things change, people change, and relationships change.
As he stood in the deafening silence he smiled at Saila?s reflection in the mirror. As if she?d been waiting for him to say it, he spoke. ?I?m going to be fine. No more reckless bull shit.?
It was his study, every book had been torn from the shelves, each tome had been hand selected by Quinn personally after his father died. His wet nurse had taught him was only as good as the books he filled his mind with. The woman was brilliant, and he?d pleaded to keep her on as his Nanny when she was caught stealing food. He was four and wouldn?t have heard of sleeping for anyone else. A temper tantrum was never rewarded, unless that temper tantrum kept a very important business man up for nine nights in a row. As he stood surrounded by the vast majority of his own knowledge, he tore through page after page. Screaming out in anger as he rocketed the binding of the books towards the door. They?d never hit their marks though as the door was barricaded by every piece of furniture in the room. Pacing back and forth, hands grabbing at the shaggy ebony hair as he stepped over the mangled bodies of those he loved. The scene was disgusting, and even more so as the light left the room. As night fell, the monster of a man knew he?d have company. There wasn?t a way to stop them, but the wards on the house still kept him inside.
Another night of torture, another serving of wolfsbane to bring him the verge of impotence as a wolf, another witch to mentally rack and force him to relive the weeks previous. Weeks spent in the dried filth of his slaughtered family, refuse, he?d gone to shredding books to pass the time, but there weren?t any left, and if he wasn?t counting the discarded pages then what? He considered peeling the threads from the bindings and count those next. Every time he thought of ending it, the witch pulled the thought from him, his mind was as weak as his starved body. Many a man could do deplorable things without any other options, but feeding on the corpses of murdered family? Using the same hands that tore them apart, to tear into them, just to sustain, because you can?t think about just ending it all. Every day before dawn, he was tied by thick silver chains to a chair brought it. Every day his wrists and abdomen seared as the chain sunk into his flesh, it would take him hours to break free, spending time focusing on that pain. Living in it, like his own escape, an oasis from this hell. Every morning he was left this way. Every morning he fought to free himself. Until the morning he just didn?t.
There was the sound in the hallway, the walking, steps like the pitter patter of fae. They brought the woman and this time, he didn?t have to wonder which room she?d enter. But instead of the typical blast to the door, destroying his furniture that would then have to be piled back up, no no, instead there was a call from the other side. The voice of an angel, soft like running water, tinkling through the pain and hatred. The voice that had saved his life so many times, ageless and perfect. He waited for this angel to stop the pain.
?Easy Big Bad, I?m here.?
Jolting upright he tore the sheets from himself and looked around the room as if the entire world had crashed around him. Eyes went then to the Muse before him and he lifted a hand to rub at the back of sweat soaked neck. Glance to the empty other side of the bed before he sunk against the headboard and spoke aloud. ?I need to get over some shit.? Careful to keep the please don?t touch me posture firm so she didn?t get a piece of that. ?I?m going to need your help packing his shit today.? He didn?t wait for her response as he stood up and went to find his clothes. Levi needed to have the things he had grown fond of from the house. Quinn was no longer going to pretend things were okay, he wasn?t going to play make believe that Levi was coming back, he would have invited him in the first place if he had needed him. Not taken off in the night with only a text message. No, Quinn wasn?t going to be there for him, he had made that choice when he left. He needed to move on. Things change, people change, and relationships change.
As he stood in the deafening silence he smiled at Saila?s reflection in the mirror. As if she?d been waiting for him to say it, he spoke. ?I?m going to be fine. No more reckless bull shit.?