Thomas' POV

I'm not sure how long I've been down here in this dirty basement. The dim light never falters and I haven't had any food. Nor any visitors. The only sound in the room is the air conditioning turning on and off, though there's no vent here in the basement. My wrists are cut and rubbed raw from tugging on them, whether its get away or the nightmares that have attacked me with a vengeance.

The only light in my day anymore is when I think of Zack. My Bond. My baby.

Sometimes when I'm cold, and I'm shivering in the dark, curled into my self as the cold rises from the cement, I think of the way he used to hold my body, curling into my from behind, spreading kissing along my face and neck throughout the night. When I'm sad I think about the way he always loved to place his head on my stomach and make me all melty and soft.

And when I'm hating myself for being here and for the pain and the hurt and everything else I've caused, all I force myself to think about is that it could be him. It could be him, chained to the wall, weak and tired and dirty. The smell of shit and piss only a few steps away, as far as I can get from my resting place. It could be him, shivering from fear more than the temperature, hoping his capture forgot about him but knowing he hasn't. And it's those thoughts that keep me going.

But I don't know how much longer I can hold on. My breathing is ragged when I gulp in air, my chest barely moving no matter how much I gasp in. My stomach doesn't rumble anymore, just aches and howl in pain at the loss of food and water. My eyesight is blurry and I slip in and out of consciousness. Too afraid to fall asleep, but too tired to stay awake.

I stare at the wall across from me, following the drop of the water form the ceiling to the floor, slightly entertaining myself with the way the water falls, never going the same route twice.

Sometimes in my dreams, I think I can hear someone talking above me, but when I finally manage to open my eyes, the room is empty and I'm still alone in my misery.

And though I know it's better, I also know, I would kill to hold Zack one last time and tell him that I'm sorry. And that I love him and I wanted to grow old and have kids. I wanted to return to the beach. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, learning everything I could for the rest of our lives. I want him to know that I trust him with my life and I would never think he would hurt me.

    My mind is a jumble of incoherent thoughts and images, switching between my friends and my lover, reminiscing on all the good times we've had and the thoughts of what I hope to happen.

     My train of thought is so deep in my mind that at first I don't register the noise of the door opening at the top of the stairs. Once the noise clicks in my mind, I push my weakening body off of the mattress to lean against the wall, my chest puffing with the energy that simple motion took.

     I watch with lazy eyes as Silas descends the stairs, his boots the dead giveaway to who it is, though I would much rather talk to Ben. Maybe if I can get him alone I can get some information on Silas or something  that will help me get out of here. Anything. I push the thoughts away for later and watch Silas step off the last wooden step and stop there. His nose scrunches up in disgust, whether at the smell or my appearance I'm not sure but I don't miss the spark of sadistic pleasure that flashes in his eyes.

     "Well, hello." He greets with a grin, the look making me cringe, knowing already that Silas being in a good mood is even worse than him in a bad mood. I stay silent, watching him cautiously as he lowers himself to the ground and leans against the opposite wall. One of his legs are straightened out on the floor, the bottom of his shoe facing me, while the other is bent, one of his arms sling lazily over it.

    He doesn't say anything for a moment, just watches me watch him before he chuckles and shakes his head.

    "It's funny, you know. How this all turned out." He says and I can't help the remark that drops from my lips, my head leaning back to rest against the wall behind me as I look at him.

      "Funny haha or funny ironic?" I ask, my voice still strong even with a while of disuse but my tone is dry and empty despite my snarky attitude. He raises his brow in what I assume is surprise before he tilts his head to the side in contemplation.

    "Funny ironic, I suppose." He amends, his black eyes gazing too deep into my soul making me shiver in disgust and lingering fear. "I'm sure he hasn't told you, but Ares wasn't always this great big hero and king that's everyone thinks he is today."

    Silas' tone is bitter and angry as he speaks about the love of my life and I smirk a little in pride, knowing Zack got under this little shits skin so much that he would get so desperate to steal me. Pathetic really.

    "When we were younger." He continues, his eyes no longer focused on me but on some distant memory that he can't seem to let go of. "Ares was like the runt of the pack, in a way. He didn't have any friends or any family. He didn't have anyone except his little puny self. I hardly noticed him until middle school. That's when he would come in with tears in his face and he wouldn't be able to get through one class without breaking down like the little bitch he was. I was at the top of the food chain. The best of the best, in school, in the streets and in the game. Then in eleventh grade... he faded into the background but I still paid attention to the little fucker. He would show up with blood on his knuckles and cuts on his face. And a few weeks later he joined the game."

    Silas pauses and his jaw ticks in irritation at the thoughts going through his mind.

     "My father is anything but a patient or understanding man. Going home to him and explaining that I was losing to some half breed, wanna-be Enchanted wasn't an option. I've been trying for years to get back that standing and some how, some way he's always in the way of that. And he's so fucking cocky and high and mighty he doesn't even have the grace to realize what he's doing."

    I frown in confusion, not understanding the story. From what I can pick up from his rambling is that Silas was jealous of Zack because he's the King and his dad won't allow it. But what does that have to do with now?

     "But that's alright. I'm going to get this all straightened out." He tells me, his eyes refocusing on mine and the gleam I see in them makes me want to throw up and die all in one instant.

     "How?" I ask and I seemingly did the right thing because he grins at me with an excited look.

     "Because you're going to help me." He says as if the answer is really that simple and I can't help the laugh that grazes my lips at the thought of helping someone as demented as him. "You can laugh now, Thomas. But I would save your energy." He warns me but I roll my eyes, over the whole ordeal and conversation. I would much rather be staring at the wall and thinking about how amazing Zack is than staring at the disgusting face of the dollar tree knock off.

    Though I know, rationally, that I should have at least a little bit of self preservation on the off chance that Zack makes his way to me, I don't want to get my hopes up, only to live out the rest of my days with this bastard.

     "I'm going to ask you questions, Thomas and you're going to answer them." Silas tells me form across the room and I raise one of my eyes brows wondering if he's that dense that he thinks that would work on me. With all the crazy traits he's shown since I met him, I wouldn't be surprised. "Where is he staying?" He asks me and I prepare myself for a long boring conversation.

      "On the corner of fuck you and die." I say, my voice bored and uninterested as I look up at the ceiling, finding a droplet of water to follow to the ground lazily. There's a beat of silence that makes me smirk before he speaks up again.

     "What's his real name?" He asks me and the question puts me ok high alert though I try not to let the panic show in my face, forcing myself to not pause.

     "What is he? A super hero?" I snort in amusement, though the situation is anything but funny. "His name is Ares." I tell Silas as if anything else would be absurd. I hear the rustle of something moving and my breath catches in my throat when Silas races across the room in less than a second with my throat in his hand.

     His eyes narrow and they're so close, I can see the swirl of  something in his eyes. And that something isn't any inch of human or even Enchanted as he reaches for his pocket and pulls out a dagger. A dark grin stretches across his afec at the look on mine and try as I might, I can't reign in the fear that's crashing through me as image after image of horror and terror flags through my mind before they stop on a bloody broken image of me.

     He brings the cold metal to my cheek, the sharp weapon grazing my cheek, the blade so sharp, the small cut releases a drop of blood that glides down my face.

     "Now. Let's try again."

~~~~~~~~~
Oh shit guys. This is actually getting really scary. I'm sorry guys. Should I start putting Trigger Warnings at the beginning of Thomas' POV and if so, what's house then warning say?

Thoughts?

Comments?

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