The dormitory stood like a monolith of despair, its crumbling stone facade scarred by time and neglect. The night outside was a suffocating void, the wind howling through shattered windows, carrying whispers of forgotten tragedies. Inside, the air was thick with the stench of mildew and blood, a metallic tang that clung to David's skin as he guided Ruby down the flickering corridor. His boots thudded against the warped wooden floor, each step a grim reminder of the lives he'd extinguished mere hours ago. Ruby trailed behind, a ghost of her former self—her auburn hair matted with sweat and tears, her eyes vacant, as if the horrors she'd witnessed had hollowed her soul. Her trembling hands clutched her torn jacket, a futile shield against the world's cruelty.
"Ruby," David said, his voice barely above a whisper, strained by the weight of his guilt. He stopped at her door, its chipped paint peeling like flayed skin. "Freshen up. Get some rest." The words felt like a betrayal, a hollow promise in a world that offered no sanctuary. Safe. The lie burned his tongue. How could he speak of safety when his hands were still stained with the lives he'd taken?
Ruby's gaze lifted, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting, agonizing moment. They were pools of grief, reflecting a girl broken by loss, her once-fiery spirit smothered by sorrow. She nodded faintly, a mechanical motion, and David reached out, his calloused hand gently patting her head. "You're my student," he said, forcing steadiness into his voice despite the chaos within. "A master should always protect their student. When I'm here, no one will touch you."
Her lips parted, as if to speak, but no sound came. She nodded again, her movements slow, and slipped into her room. The door closed with a soft click, but to David, it was a thunderclap, sealing her away from the darkness he carried. He stood frozen, staring at the door, his chest tightening with the weight of his vow. She's safe, he told himself, but the words crumbled like ash.
David trudged to his own room, the corridor stretching into an endless tunnel of shadows. Each flickering sconce cast accusing faces on the walls—men he'd killed, their eyes wide with terror, their mouths frozen in silent screams. The door to his room creaked as he pushed it open, revealing a barren chamber lit by a single oil lamp, its flame dancing like a trapped soul. He shut the door, leaning against it as if to barricade himself from the memories clawing at his mind. His breath hitched, sweat beading on his brow, sliding down his face like the tears he refused to shed. He raised his trembling hands, and there it was—blood, crimson and viscous, coating his palms, pooling in the creases of his skin. It wasn't real, not anymore, but it felt real, a phantom stain that would never wash clean.
"I… I killed…" The words tore from his throat, jagged and raw. "I killed them. I'm a killer. I killed… I killed…" His voice rose, a frenzied chant, each repetition a lash against his soul. He stumbled to the cracked mirror above the dresser, gripping its edges until his knuckles whitened. The man staring back was a stranger—eyes wild, face gaunt, a haunted shell of the boy he'd once been. "I killed!" he screamed, the sound shattering the silence, reverberating off the walls like a banshee's wail. "I killed! I killed! I killed! Ahh! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
His knees buckled, and he collapsed, the cold floor biting into his palms. His screams dissolved into sobs, each one a shard of guilt piercing his heart. But then, a voice—low, resonant, and impossibly ancient—sliced through the chaos. "Are you afraid, David? Afraid of the people you've killed?"
David's head snapped up, his heart pounding like a war drum. The room was gone. He stood in a pitch-black domain, an endless abyss where light was a forgotten dream. The air was thick, oppressive, as if the darkness itself had weight, pressing against his chest, stealing his breath. Before him, a figure emerged, cloaked in a purple aura that pulsed like a dying star. The man's face was obscured, a faceless enigma, yet his presence was a force—terrifying, divine, and utterly inescapable.
"Who are you?" David stammered, his voice trembling with fear. "Where am I?"
The figure's laughter was a low rumble, like the earth splitting open. "I am the one who gave you power, David. The God of Darkness." The words hung in the void, heavy with menace, each syllable a chain binding David to his fate. "And this is my domain—a place where your soul is laid bare."
David's chest heaved, his mind reeling. "I killed people," he whispered, the confession spilling like poison. "I'm a monster."
"Shut up!" the god's voice boomed, shaking the void, the sound a physical blow that drove David to his knees. "You killed sinners, David. Men who bathed in the blood of the innocent. You saved lives—have you forgotten? Or do you choose to drown in guilt, blind to the good you've done?"
David shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "I still killed. I took lives. I… I can't do it anymore. I won't."
The god's aura flared, and the void shifted. A vision materialized—a luxurious chamber, its walls draped in crimson velvet, gold chandeliers casting a sickly glow. In the center, a massive bed, and on it, Ruby. Her screams pierced the air, raw and desperate, as a faceless king loomed over her, his hands tearing at her clothes. "Please!" she sobbed, her voice breaking. "Please, let me go!"
David's heart shattered. He reached out, his fingers brushing the vision, but it was untouchable, a cruel mirage. "No…" he whispered, his voice choked with anguish. "Ruby…"
"This is what happens, David," the god said, his voice a venomous whisper. "This is the future if you refuse to act. You killed for a purpose. To protect. To save. Why do you fear the blood when it buys her safety?"
David sank to his knees, his sobs echoing in the void. "I can't kill people anymore. I can't do it. I don't want to kill."
The god stepped closer, his aura enveloping David like a storm. "Don't you want revenge? For those who killed Ruby's father and mother?" His words were a blade, slicing through David's resolve.
David's breath caught, the memory of Ruby's parents—slaughtered, their blood pooling on the floor—flashing in his mind. But he shook his head, his voice barely audible. "I can't…"
The god's voice softened, but it carried a weight that pressed against David's soul. "Sometimes, to protect those we adore, we must kill others for their safety." He leaned closer, his voice a hiss in David's ear. "If you'd picked up that knife and stabbed your father that day, your sister wouldn't have been raped. You didn't, because you feared."
David's eyes widened, the name a dagger to his heart. "No… don't… Daisy…"
The void shifted again, and David was no longer in the abyss. He stood in a dilapidated house, its walls stained with neglect, the air thick with the stench of alcohol and despair. The scene unfolded like a nightmare he couldn't escape. A young girl—Daisy, fourteen, her face bruised but defiant—ran to the door as the bell rang. Her eyes held a spark of hope, a flicker of the girl she might have been.
"Dad?" she called, opening the door. Daniel, her father, stood there, swaying, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. His eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted with rage.
"Move, you little bitch," he slurred, shoving her aside. "Because of you, my wife's gone to her mother's house."
Daisy stumbled, tears welling in her eyes. "You cheated on Mom!" she cried, her voice trembling but fierce. "That's why she's gone!"
Daniel's hand lashed out, striking her across the face. She fell, her cheek red and swelling, but she didn't scream. "Shut up," he growled, stumbling toward the kitchen.
The lights flickered and died, plunging the house into darkness. A small voice called out—David, only seven, his voice quivering with fear. "Daisy? Daisy, where are you? I'm scared…"
Daisy wiped her tears, forcing a smile as she found her brother in the hallway. "I'm here, David," she said, her voice steady despite the pain. She took his hand, leading him to their mother's room. "Come on, our little god boy needs to sleep, right?"
David giggled, climbing onto the bed. "Okiii," he said, his innocence a stark contrast to the darkness closing in. Daisy sat beside him, stroking his hair until his breathing slowed, his small form curling into the blankets.
But the peace was shattered by Daniel's voice, slurred and menacing. "Daisy! Daisy, you bitch, come here!"
Daisy's face hardened. She kissed David's forehead and stood, steeling herself. "Stay here," she whispered, then walked to the dining room, where Daniel sat, a bottle in one hand, his eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous.
"Where's my food?" he demanded.
"We don't have any," Daisy said quietly, her voice steady. "Please, Dad, don't shout. David will wake up."
Inside the bedroom, David stirred, woken by the commotion. He slipped out of bed, his small feet padding across the floor. He froze as he heard a crash, followed by Daisy's voice, sharp and panicked. "Dad, let my hand go!"
David crept to the door, peering into the dining room. Daniel had grabbed Daisy's arm, his grip bruising. "You think you can talk to me like that?" he snarled. His eyes roamed over her, lingering on her skirt, her trembling form. A sickening grin spread across his face.
Daisy shoved him, breaking free, and ran. David opened the bedroom door just as she reached it, her eyes wide with terror. "Sister, what's happening?" he asked, his voice small.
"Nothing, David," she lied, her smile strained. "Go hide in the closet. Don't come out until I say, okay?"
"Okay," he whispered, obeying without question. He slipped into the closet, curling up behind a pile of clothes, his heart pounding. A knife gleamed faintly on the floor, its blade catching the moonlight, but David's eyes darted past it, too young to understand its power.
Outside, the door rattled, Daniel's voice growing louder, more unhinged. "Open the door, Daisy!" he roared, slamming his fist against the wood. "Open it, you little bitch!"
Daisy pressed her body against the door, her breaths ragged, tears streaming down her face. "Dad, please…" she whispered, but her words were drowned out by the sound of splintering wood. The door gave way, and Daniel burst in, his eyes wild with a hunger that made David's stomach churn.
"Dad, no!" Daisy screamed, backing away. "It's wrong, Dad! I'm your daughter! Please, let me go!"
But Daniel didn't listen. He grabbed her, throwing her onto the bed, his hands tearing at her clothes. Daisy fought, her screams filling the air, each one a knife in David's heart. "Dad, it's paining! It's hurting! Dadddd!" Her voice faded, broken, as Daniel's brutality consumed her.
From the closet, David watched through a crack, his small body shaking, tears streaming down his face. "Sister…" he whimpered, but he didn't move. Fear had rooted him to the spot, a cold, paralyzing force that held him captive. The knife lay untouched, a silent accusation.
Daniel staggered out, leaving Daisy's broken form on the bed, her body still, her eyes empty. David crawled out, his voice a broken whisper. "Sister? Sister!" He reached her, his small hands shaking as he touched her face, her skin cold. Blood stained the sheets, bite marks marring her skin, blood pooling between her legs. She was gone.
"STOP!" David screamed, and the vision dissolved. He was back in the black domain, his body trembling, his face wet with tears. He collapsed, his hands clawing at the ground. "I was a kid!" he sobbed. "I didn't know what to do!"
The god loomed over him, his voice cold and unrelenting. "You saw the knife, David. You could have picked it up. You could have stabbed him. But you feared to kill. You watched your own blood sister get raped by your own blood father. You let her die in vain."
"No!" David cried, his voice raw. "I tried! I really tried! You're wrong!"
"No, you didn't try," the god said, his words a lash. "You knew you could have picked the knife and stabbed him, but you feared. You watched everything—the pain, the cries, the begs. You let her die, David."
David's sobs quieted, his eyes widening as the god's words sank into him, heavy and undeniable. The god's aura pulsed, a silent command, and the void shifted once more, returning to the house. David and the god stood as silent observers, watching the tragedy unfold again—the bell ringing, Daisy opening the door, Daniel's drunken rage, the slap, the darkness, Daisy's brave facade as she tucked David into bed. The screams, the door splintering, Daisy's desperate pleas—"Dad, don't do it! I'm your daughter!"—and David, frozen in the closet, watching through the crack as his sister's life was stolen.
The vision faded, and David fell to his knees, his screams echoing in the void. "I tried! I tried!" But the god's words were a hammer, shattering his defenses.
"Since the past is past, there is a chance, David," the god said, his voice softening but laced with menace. "Isn't Ruby looking like Daisy a little bit?" David's eyes opened, sad and crying, the resemblance striking him like a blow. Ruby's quiet strength, her broken spirit—she was Daisy, reborn in a new form. A second chance.
"You've been given a second chance, David," the god continued. "Protect whom you love. Protect Ruby by any means, even if you have to kill."
David rose, his legs unsteady, his face streaked with tears. He wiped them away, his jaw tightening. "I have someone to protect," he said, his voice low but resolute. "I have Ruby to protect, and I will protect her no matter what."
The god's aura pulsed, a silent approval. The black domain faded, and David was back in his room, the oil lamp flickering, the air heavy with the scent of blood and resolve. He stood, his hands no longer trembling, his eyes burning with a fire born of pain and purpose. The ghosts of his past—Daisy's screams, the blood on his hands—would haunt him forever, but they would not break him. Not again.
Outside, the wind howled, a banshee's cry heralding a coming storm. The dormitory groaned, its walls trembling as if sensing the darkness within David's soul. He clenched his fists, the phantom blood still warm on his skin, and made a vow—to protect Ruby, to wield the blade he once feared, and to face the shadows within himself. For her. For Daisy. For vengeance.