#6k...

Your movements slow to a halt as you pick up on the gossip behind you. You’ve known Anna Woodard since you were both in middle school, and she latched onto your insecurities early as a young teen and has tormented mercilessly in the years since then. Finding out that she was going to the same university as you wasn’t pleasant, but it hadn’t been all that surprising; though large and prestigious, the campus was still close to home, and you and Anna had been in the same advanced courses all throughout high school.

She’d stopped showing up to your shared sociology class last Wednesday. It’s unlike her to skip class, even now, as a junior college, so naturally suspicion was raised once she still hadn’t shown up to any of her classes on Friday. Now, on a bright and early Monday morning, you’re hearing news of her death.

“Dude, what?” You risk a glance over your shoulder. You recognize the speaker— Karasu, who you’ve chatted with at a few parties. “You mean, like, she’s dead?”

“Yeah man,” his friend, Otoya, answers. “Campus police found her body out by the old baseball field. Gutted her like a damn fish. I heard it was brutal. They had Tamara ID her and she couldn’t stop crying and vomiting.”

Chills run down your spine and the hairs on your arms stand on end. Sure, you loathed Anna’s very existence and complained about her endlessly to anyone who would lend you an ear, but that didn't mean you wanted to see her dead— and brutally murdered at that.

With a shudder, you gather the last of your things into your backpack and sling it over your shoulder. As you head toward the exit of the large lecture hall, you open your phone’s browser and type Anna’s full name into the search bar.

STRAIGHT-A COLLEGE STUDENT FOUND BRUTALIZED ON CAMPUS

The headline sears itself onto your eyelids, the bold blocky letters dancing in front of your vision every time you blink. You scroll through the article, your eyes rapidly skimming it. You only manage to pick up on small details, but they’re enough to make you feel nauseous: found strung up to a tree, intestines spilling out and mouth sewn shut. The brutality of it all left bile burning at the back of your throat and tears stinging at the corner of your eyes.

You startle as you collide with something both firm and soft. A pair of hands come down to settle just above your hips and steer you backward as you look up to apologize to the person you just ran into.

Alexis’s signature soft (and somewhat unnerving) smile immediately melts into concern when he catches sight of your ghastly expression. “What’s wrong, schatz?”

You’ve been friends with Alexis for a long time— since you moved to his neighborhood from your previous shitty impoverished one when you were ten. He’s always been good to you, sweet and supportive and endlessly doting. It could be suffocating at times, and maybe even feel a little demeaning to be so coddled, but you never hold it against him since you know he only has good intentions.

You can’t really imagine a better person to have run into at a time like this. Choking back a sob, you pull Alexis into a hug, which he immediately returns. His arms wrap around your midsection, his hands finding your back and rubbing soothing circles into it.

“Anna’s dead,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

He stiffens in your hold for just a moment, asking, “What?”

You pull away from him gently, swiping at your eyes before looking up at him. He’s distressed, his lips pursed and eyes pinched at the corners.

“She’s dead,” you echo, feeling exhausted. “Someone killed her. Slaughtered her, really.”

Alexis looks off to the side and for a moment, something complicated that you can’t quite place flits over his features. It’s gone as soon as it appears, though, replaced by sincere concern.

He places a gentle hand on your shoulder in comfort. “I know you didn’t like her, but that’s still awful.”

You sniffle, struggling to keep yourself together and avoid breaking down in the middle of the hallway. “Nobody deserves that.”

Wordlessly, Alexis shakes his head in agreement. He gently tugs on your shoulder, and you allow yourself to be wrapped in his warm embrace once again.

You’ve got your face pressed into the fabric of Alexis’s knit sweater when another familiar voice calls out behind you, “You two better cut that shit out before Erik throws another hissy fit.”

A twinge of affectionate annoyance runs through you as you pull away from Alexis again to face the newcomer.

Kaiser leans against the wall beside the two of you and gives you a once-over the second you turn around. He’s not one for direct consolation the way Alexis is— never has been— but his lips pull down slightly at the corners when he catches sight of your puffy eyes. He raises a single eyebrow in question, glancing between you and Alexis in silent demand of an answer.

Alexis responds for you. “Anna was murdered.”

Unmoved, Kaiser just raises his eyebrows more. “So? I thought you hated her.”

You bristle, scowling as you snap, “Micha.”

He hasn’t been “Kaiser” to you like everyone else, or even “Michael,” in a long time— truthfully, he never has been. You two grew up on the same street before your dad got custody of you when you were ten and moved you into his house, which was next door to Alexis’s. Before all of that, Kaiser was all you had. He’s been “Micha” to you for as long as you can remember.

The blonde rolls his eyes at you. “She was a piece of work and you know it.”

“That doesn’t mean she deserved to get—” Your words peter out as the gorey descriptions of her body flooded back into your mind. You bite down on your lip and look away from him, staring at the floor and willing yourself not to burst into tears again.

Kaiser sighs in exasperation, but moves to stand beside you, anyway. The hand he places on your back pats you in a way that’s the slightest bit condescending in a way Alexis’s wasn’t, but you got used to Kaiser’s poor attempts at sympathy a long time ago.

“There, there,” he says. “It’ll be okay.”

You roll your eyes, but laugh despite yourself. “You’re so fucking bad at this.”

He smirks down at you, eyes gleaming as he teasingly leans closer to your face. “But you’re smiling now, aren’t you?”

Before you can reply, a harsh voice cuts through the hallway. “Hands off, Michael.”

As if a switch was flipped, Kaiser’s entire expression falls, giving way to annoyance and something else a bit more volatile. Across from him, Alexis’s own face goes eerily blank, save for the polite grin on his face.

Erik Gesner, your boyfriend of nearly half a year now, steps into view. Mustering up as much of a smile as you can, you move away from Kaiser’s touch and walk into your boyfriend’s waiting arms.

Erik frowns down at you as he takes in your state. “The hell, these two pushing you around again?”

You huff out a laugh. “No, Erik,” you say, shaking your head. “I just heard about Anna.”

Erik hisses out a breath between his teeth. “Yeah, that sounded brutal.” He loops his arm around you, facing you away from your friends and beginning to guide you down the hallway. “But I’m here to keep you safe, alright? Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

You bite back a laugh at that. To be completely honest, Erik isn’t a great boyfriend in any capacity. He likes to flaunt you and make a show of affection in public, but he isn’t exactly emotionally available. Not that that’s a problem for you— you both agreed to something casual and low-commitment. Even if others often tell you that you deserve better and could certainly get better, you’re okay with your arrangement for the time being.

That being said, Erik isn’t exactly a shining paragon of chivalry. You wouldn’t be surprised if he fled and left you behind at the first sign of danger.

Tossing a look over your shoulder, you wave goodbye to your friends, feeling a slight ache in your heart as you’re dragged away from them once again.

act ii. “don’t wanna find your daughter in a body bag”

Hana Kimura is dead.

You’d gotten along with her— you’d taken a math class with her back in freshman year and often shared study guides and notes with each other. You grew apart after that class ended, but you still shared polite smiles and waves in passing even after you started dating Erik, who she’d had a short fling with at the beginning of sophomore year.

Erik, who was being implicated for her death, along with the others.

Anna was a coincidence, but you started feeling a little nervous when the body of a guy who relentlessly harassed you after you’d rejected him freshman year turned up floating in the campus pool a week later. It shook you up a bit that the both victims were people with some sort of direct connection to you, but when you started freaking out about it one night, Alexis calmed you down and said it was nothing more than coincidence. Anna wasn’t exactly nice, and the other guy was just an awful person, so both of them likely had lots of enemies on campus.

Hana wasn’t someone you had any bad blood with, but her death still shook you, as you knew her a bit better than the other two. 

It only shook you more when people began connecting the dots and pointing fingers at your boyfriend.

Shidou, one of your group members for lab, had outright asked you if you thought it was strange that all the victims so far had ties to you and Erik. Chigiri, your third member, had smacked him upside the head for being insensitive, but at your request, Shidou elaborated.

He’d counted them off on his fingers. “I mean, everyone knows about your and Anna’s beef, Otis was a fucking weirdo to you, and Hana is his ex-situationship.” He raised an eyebrow as he said, “Sounds like he’s got a motive for all of them. Didn’t like the way the first two acted toward his girl, and maybe he just never got over Hana.”

Chigiri frowned. “That’s contradictory. Why would he kill for her if he’s not over Hana?”

The conversation had turned into Shidou and Chigiri just arguing the reasoning behind Erik killing Hana, most of which you tuned out. You don’t honestly believe Erik did it, but the fact that all of the victims were tied to you in some way nagged you to no end.

Now, you’re in one of the many dining spots on campus, seated in a booth tucked away into a far corner of the room.

Isagi, who you’d forged a close bond with after being on the same floor freshman year, sits across from you, picking at his fries with a troubled expression on his face.

With a sigh, he pops one of them into his mouth and mumbles, “I mean, I just don’t think Erik would kill for you.”

“Neither do I,” you quickly agree.

“So…” Isagi pushes his food around some more. “Is there anyone that, uh, you think would?”

“Would what?” When he just stares at you in silence, you baulk. “What, kill for me?”

“I mean—” He shrugs. “Isn’t that what’s at the root here? The fact that all the victims are tied to you?”

“Well, yeah, but there’s no one out there that would kill three people for me!”

Isagi purses his lips at that. He averts his eyes, poking at the fries some more.

“What?” You demand. There’s something doubtful in his expression. “What, you think there’s someone that would?”

“I didn’t say that,” he mutters around a mouthful of potatoes.

“Your face said it,” you challenge.

“My face is very interested in these fries,” he says. 

“Isagi,” you snap, exasperated. “Who do you think would kill for me?”

The boy sighs and pushes the plate away from him. When he finally meets your eyes, he appears more serious than you’ve ever seen him.

“I just think it’s too obvious,” he explains. “The first two victims are people who were awful to you, but the third is one of Erik’s exes? It doesn’t make sense. Someone is clearly trying to pin it on him.”

Unease settles in the pit of your stomach. “And who do you think that is?”

Isagi hesitates. Staring at his hands where they’re placed in his lap, he finally settles on an answer. “I don’t know. It could be anyone. Most people don’t know their stalkers. You should still be careful and… vigilant, though.”

He looks up at you again, eyes gleaming.

“Sometimes they’re closer than you think.”

act iii. “so i need to get out now while most of me is still intact”

“Come on, babe!” Erik is shrieking, but in your frenzy, you can barely hear him. “Do you seriously think I did this? That I would kill someone? Kill four people?”

You didn’t think that he would, not originally. But that was before Grim was brutally murdered in front of you just moments ago— and Erik had shown up not even three minutes later.

Right after the two of them had gotten into a massive fight, no less.

Grim had gotten drunk off his ass at a frat party and started chatting with you and Alexis on some creaky couch that had certainly seen more than enough action while Erik was in the backyard playing beer pong. Grim had started talking shit about everyone he knew until he eventually reached Erik himself.

“He’s just in it for the sex, you know,” Grim muttered drunkenly.

You sighed. It was a conversation you’d had many times. “I don’t care. We both agreed to casual.”

Grim scoffed. “Casual or not, you can still do so much better than him. Like, in a boyfriend, and in a bed.”

Beside you, Alexis snorted. You elbowed him lightly before turning back to Grim. “Maybe I could, maybe I couldn’t. This is just what’s convenient for me. No strings attached.”

Grim sighed heavily. “Whatever you say. Just hit me up if you want me to match with a guy who can show you a much better time.”

“What the fuck, man?”

It’d been chaos from there. Both were drunk and upset, and there’d been yelling and poorly thrown punches before Alexis and Mensah broke them up and separated them so each one could cool down.

Erik stopped talking to Grim after that. You could tell it hurt him— both the comments that had been made, but also the silence. He’d been friends with Grim a long time, long before he met you, and it sucked to see him miserable without his close friend.

Grim had reached out to you earlier that week asking if he could come over and talk to you. You figured it was about what he said at the party and that he probably wanted your help smoothing things over with Erik, so you agreed.

The two of you had been talking things out over pizza in your dorm’s lounge when your cell phone rang. There was no caller ID, so you sent it to voicemail— twice. By the third call, you figured it might be someone you know from a payphone or something, so you excused yourself and stepped a bit away from Grim.

“Hello?” You said, uncertain. “Who is this?” 

“A friend,” a distorted voice said on the other end. It sounded as if they were using a voice modifier. “I just want to talk with you, doll.”

Something between a scoff and a laugh left you. “Listen, I don’t know if this is a prank or something, but I have a boyfriend—”

“Boyfriend?” The voice cut you off. “Is he the one with you right now?”

A chill ran down your spine as you spared a glance at Grim, who was still seated on the couch and scrolling through his phone. Frantically, you’d looked toward the large windows overlooking the courtyard, searching for someone outside. “What?”

“Do you know what they did to traitors in England under Tudor rule?”

You blinked, thrown off. “What did you say?”

“How they executed traitors under Tudor rule. Drawn, hung, and quartered. Dragged through the streets, strung up, then beheaded. Quite the show. But my emperor prefers the more uncommon method of executing traitors.”

You looked back out the window, but there’s still no one there. In a trembling voice, you asked, “And what’s that?”

“Disembowelment.”

Grim had screamed in agony behind you.

It was all a blur to you: the masked figure, the struggle which had ended with Grim’s innards spilling out of him, and the ferocity with which you’d defended yourself before fleeing and calling the police. You’d made yourself a suspect by virtue of being there, but given how shaken you were and that you’d sustained a minor injury— a shallow stab wound in the shoulder— the lead detectives doubted you were the culprit and escorted you home instead of placing you in custody.

They had asked if you believed there was anyone who had it out for Grim, though. With the phone conversation about traitors fresh on your mind and Hana’s death lingering in the back of it, you couldn’t help but let Erik’s name slip.

Now, you watch mournfully as he’s cuffed and dragged off campus.

“I didn’t fucking do it!” He yells at the cops as they shove him in the back of the car. “Someone’s framing me! It’s so obvious, use your damn heads!”

The door slams shut. You exhale shakily, shutting your eyes roughly and willing yourself not to cry.

An arm wraps around your shoulders. You lean into the touch and allow yourself to be guided into an embrace, burying your face into the other person’s chest.

“It’s okay,” Alexis murmurs softly, “he can’t hurt you or anyone else anymore.”

When you eventually pull away from him, Kaiser wraps his own arm around your shoulder and walks you toward his car.

“You can stay with us tonight,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “If it would make you feel better.”

You nod, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you answer, “I’d like that.”

act iv. “sifting further through the wreckage, i think you just have to laugh”

“I mean this in the nicest way possible,” Isagi says slowly, “but you are not more important to Erik than his best friend.”

You’re sitting with him in the same booth, only now, you both look far more exhausted and frazzled than two weeks ago. 

You swallow thickly. “Apparently I am.”

Isagi calls your name so sternly that it snaps you out of your haze. His face is doing something complicated, like he’s clearly frustrated about something, but he still does his best to ease you into whatever bread crumb trail he’s picked up on.

“Look,” he starts, “Grim’s death is just like Hana’s. It’s meant to implicate Erik in something he did not do.”

You avert your eyes. “Maybe it seems that way, but apparently they’ve always had problems with each other. If he really did kill Anna and Otis, it’s not surprising that he’d kill Grim for telling me I could do better than him.”

“Apparently,” Isagi echoes, eyes boring into you. There’s no food at the table this time— just you, and his undivided attention that settles like a weight on your shoulders. “And who told you that? Ness? Kaiser?”

You reel back a bit. Defensive, you snap, “What are you trying to say?”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him,” he says matter-of-factly, “since this all started. Since Hana died and you started distancing yourself from Erik. Especially since Grim died. You know, he never did like that you were sleeping with him.”

Appalled, you hiss, “Are you implying that Micha is killing people?”

Isagi shrugs. “I mean, you said it, not me.”

 You narrow your eyes at him. “I know he’s not a good person, but he’s not a fucking murderer, Isagi.”

“He’s in your head is what he is,” he mutters under his breath, but still loud enough for you to hear and scowl at him. Isagi sighs and brushes a hand through his hair before trying again. “You say there’s no one out there who would kill for you. But who else would kill people who treated you like shit? Who else would try to take the guy you’re sleeping with out of the picture while they’re at it?”

You grit your teeth. “He’s not a murderer.”

Isagi leans closer, and one look in his eyes tells you that you’re not gonna like whatever he’s about to say next. “Tell me again how Kaiser reacted when you first told him you were sleeping with Erik.”

Your stomach bottoms out, and a wave of nausea washes over you.

Barely finding your voice, you croak out, “That’s not relevant.”

Isagi tilts his head to the side. “It’s not?”

“It’s not,” you repeat, but your voice is small, hollow. 

It’s like a fog in your head has been cleared, but oh, you wish it hadn’t. 

You’ve never forgotten the look on Kaiser’s face when you had off-handedly mentioned you started sleeping with Erik. He’d gone completely still in the kitchen of his apartment, the whisk in his hand slowly dripping batter back into the bowl as it stayed suspended in the air. His back had been turned to you at first, every single muscle tight when he’d been so relaxed just a moment ago.

He turned around slowly to face you. Though his face was devoid of any emotion, the sharpness and intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, prompting the hairs on your arms to stand up as a chill ran down your spine.

“Micha?” You’d croaked out after a long moment of silence, once he started stalking toward you.

He threw the whisk to the side. Hard. You flinched as it smacked against the wall and clattered into the sink, leaving a smear behind.

“Erik,” he said, voice deceptively calm. “That piece of shit is worth your time?”

“Don’t call him th—” Your words died in your throat when he grabbed you by the chin. It was a mockery of the usual teasing way he did it, a little too tight and a little too forceful when he tilted your head up.

“Look at you,” he cooed, all condescension and no fondness. “All grown up and experiencing new things. You think a bastard like Erik can keep you safe?”

You reached up and wrapped a hand around his wrist. “Micha, let go.”

“Never, schatz.” He tugged his arm backward, dragging you forward with it. “People should know not to touch things that belong to someone else.”

You’d been about to sneer something at him in retaliation when Alexis had walked up behind him and placed a gentle hand on his bicep. He was smiling, but it didn’t meet his eyes— or the rest of his face, which was too serene, too strained.

“Let’s not do anything rash, Michael,” he’d said calmly, steering the other away from you and back to the forgotten cake batter on the counter.

A heave wracks your entire body and your arm flies up, clapping a hand over your mouth. You gasp out shakily, shutting your eyes and struggling to both stabilize your breathing and fight down the vomit threatening to spew out of you.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Isagi rushed out of his side of the booth and slid into yours, rubbing your shoulders in a soothing manner. “Breathe, just breathe. It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it’s not,” you whisper, hysterical. “It’s not, Isagi, it’s not—”

“What’s going on here?”

Isagi stiffens beside you. Slowly, you exhale before peeling your hands away from your face.

Kaiser stares at you critically— or, rather, at the hands that were rubbing at your shoulders, now frozen in place.

Isagi quickly but calmly moves away from you, shifting toward the other end of the booth and putting some space between the two of you.

“Panic attack,” you croak out. “Haven’t been sleeping well since…” You trail off and make a vague gesture in the air, expecting Kaiser to know what you’re talking about.

It’s not like you’re lying; you’ve been getting little to no sleep every night since the cops detained Erik, and it’s something both Kaiser and Alexis can attest to. After all, you’ve been staying with them in their apartment since it happened, feeling much safer knowing they would be around in the event that Erik managed to slip out of custody or, worse, that he wasn’t the killer at all and they came for you next.

Needless to say, that arrangement would be changing in the very near future.

Kaiser side-eyes Isagi one more time before looking back at you. It may not be noticeable to anyone that doesn’t know him well, but you can see the way his face softens the slightest bit. “You’re too stressed. Let’s go home, liebling.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, threatening to rip itself out of your chest and save itself. You shake your head, careful to make the action less frantic than you feel. “No, that’s alright,” you decline softly. “I’ll stay with Isagi until the house party.”

The side-eye morphs into a full-fledged scathing glare that Isagi, impressively, does not waver under.

When Kaiser refocuses on you, the familiar impatience and disdain have returned. “If you’re not feeling well, you should come home. And not go out tonight, either.”

“It’s alright, Micha.” You smile half-heartedly. “They’ve got Erik now, so there’s nothing to worry about, yeah? I could use something to take my mind off things, anyway.”

When he opens his mouth to refute you again, you cut him off again by getting to your feet. “I’ll see you there, okay?” You turn and nod at Isagi. “Let’s go. I want to try that dessert place you were telling me about.”

Isagi nods back and rises as well. Kaiser doesn’t budge when he tries to leave the booth, forcing the other to get uncomfortably close and meet his eyes as he exits.

When you do the same and try to brush past him, he catches hold of your arm, his grip not too tight, but tight enough that it pulls you back.

Steeling yourself one more time, you force another smile and place a gentle hand on top of his. “I’ll see you,” you repeat, “I promise.”

Deep blue eyes bore into yours, completely unreadable.

He lets go— and unbeknownst to you, you’re a little too eager to slip away.

act v. “there’s a final girl / does she look like me?”

The phone is ringing.

You can hardly hear it over the buzzing static in your own ears. The entire house reeks of blood, the scent of rust stinging your nostrils and prompting bile to come bubbling up your throat.

But it’s the scene at your feet that might actually bring you to vomit.

There’s a puddle of blood, far away and removed from the gore and viscera littering the rest of the house. You don’t even know whose house you’re in, you’d just shown to get drunk out of your mind and forget, even for just a moment, what your life had become over the past few weeks.

In the puddle, shredded and torn, is the hoodie Isagi was wearing back at the campus diner.

Isagi himself is nowhere to be found.

The phone is still ringing.

Hesitantly, you pick the phone up. Flashes of Grim getting slashed at come to your mind as you hiss out, “What the fuck do you want?”

“Poor little lamb,” the altered voice croons into the receiver. You grit your teeth in an attempt to stifle your own sobs as they continue, “Where’s your shepherd gone?”

“Listen, asshole,” you mutter, “I don’t know what you think you’re getting out of this, but if you seriously think blood and guts is the best way to woo a girl, your mother did a shit job raising you.”

A burst of distorted laughter explodes from the receiver, and you recoil away from it slightly.

“Aw, that’s cute,” the voice trills.

“What’s cute?” You snap. “The fact that I’m a normally programmed human being?”

“The fact that you think my mother raised me,” the person drawls. There’s a humming noise, then they add, “That, and the fact that you think you have a choice.”

You creep over to a nearby drawer and rummage through it. Relief and adrenaline flood your veins when your fingers brush over what feels like a pocket knife. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m well aware of how to be a gentleman, sweetheart,” the person says, chuckling. “Do you think this is me asking nicely?”

You press down on the latch, and the blade comes swinging out from the hilt. Balancing the phone between your cheek and your shoulder, you brandish the knife before you and creep across the living room, toward the cracked open garage door.

“Well, you’ll have to forgive me if my rejection is a bit harsher than usual,” you say sweetly into the phone.

You pause in front of the door as another laugh pours in through the receiver. “Give me your worst, angel.”

The door bursts open, and you slash at the masked figure before they can even make a move at you. The blade, small but sharp, cuts cleanly through their shoddy costume and across their chest, leaving a thin but deep wound behind.

You leap back while you have the upper hand. The other person is much larger than you and could overpower you easily— assuming it’s who you think it is, he has in the past, albeit playfully and meaning no real harm.

Such is not the case in this situation.

Your heart starts pounding a little faster when they take out their own knife, twirling the hilt between their fingers effortlessly as they take their time crossing the room and closing the distance between you two.

If you weren’t so tense, you would’ve rolled your eyes. Even in such a high-stakes moment, he can’t help but be a show-off.

You adjust your grip on the knife and hold it out before you as you back toward the opening leading to the hallway and kitchen. In a shaky voice, you call out. “Cut the shit, Michael.” You’ve never said his name with such loathing in your life, and it makes him stop dead in his tracks. “I know it’s you.”

He twirls the knife one more time, then charges at you.

In a flurry of movement, you slash at him again, nearly tripping over yourself as you run backward, struggling to keep some distance between you when he’s closing it so fast. You grunt when your lower back collides with the kitchen, but grab hold of it to kick your legs out and ram them into his chest as hard as you can. It’s not enough to bring him down, but he stumbles backward a bit, the wind knocked out of him.

You waste no time sliding off the counter and making a mad dash for the nearest door, but you’re simply not quick enough. He’s on you in an instant, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you back into his chest. You flail wildly in vain.

A scream rips itself from your chest when he sinks the knife into your thigh.

He shushes you, and without the voice modifier, there’s no more questioning who the man behind the mask is. “Stop fighting and it’ll hurt less, hm?” 

He brings his free hand up to your face, placing his palm over your mouth and gently stroking your cheek with his fingertips. Your scream is muffled this time as he takes the knife out and plunges it into your other thigh. Tears pour down your cheeks as you writhe around, the searing pain making you more desperate despite the fact that you have no hope of escape.

“It could have been so much easier, you know,” he whispered against your ear as he traced the knife along your arm. “All you had to do was look at me. But even when Erik was gone, you’d already found someone else to latch onto. And Yoichi of all people.” He adds pressure to the blade, causing you to wince as it shallowly pierces the flesh of your arm. “But that won’t happen anymore, will it, liebling?”

A sob wracks your body as you shake your head.

Kaiser hums in approval. “Good.”

There’s a loud shout somewhere behind you, and before you can process what’s happening, Kaiser is cursing and slumped over on the floor, his hold on you going slack.

You rush away from him, scrambling and crawling along the floor. You scream when someone reaches for you, clawing at them with your nails.

“Hey, woah! It’s just me!” You stop, snapping out of your frenzy. Isagi stands before you, a metal bat in his hand. “It’s just me.”

Another sob leaves your body. “Holy shit,” you whisper. “You’re alive.”

Isagi smiles down at you. “I’m alive,” he says, then kneels down and holds his forearm out to you. “Let’s get the hell out of here, yeah?”

With both hands, you grab onto his arm, pulling yourself into his chest and trying to stand and steady yourself despite your wounded thighs. Your vision is obscured like this, but Kaiser is still on the floor, and you feel safe with Isagi.

And then, you hear him scream.

Isagi collapses to the floor, taking you with him. The back of his knee has been slashed at, and a masked figure stands over him, already plunging a knife into his chest.

A masked figure that is not Kaiser, who is still struggling to get to his feet.

A horrified shriek leaves you when the new figure goes to stab Isagi a third time, and your hands shoot out before you know what you’re doing. You catch the blade, another pained scream ripping itself from your chest as it cuts into your fingers mercilessly.

The other masked person retreats back, but gently reaches a hand out toward you, seeming remorseful for harming you.

In your desperation to save Isagi, you’d lost sight of Kaiser, something you realize when a hand grabs a fistful of the back of your shirt and drags you away from Isagi.

“Stop!” You cry out, thrashing as your bloody legs glide across the tile floor. “Stop, don’t kill him! Please, just let him go!”

“Execute him,” Kaiser growls above you.

Without hesitation, the other figure resumes plunging the knife into Isagi’s chest and midsection. Your own screams and sobs drown out his. At some point, his body goes completely still, his thrashing and fighting back fizzling out until the only movement is caused by the ferocity with which the other person is stabbing him with.

“Stop,” you murmur, curling in on yourself. “Stop. He’s dead. He’s already dead.”

The sound of squelching flesh stops suddenly. It’s replaced by heavy footfalls, and you bury your face into your hands more when they come to a stop in front of you.

A hand cards gently through your hair. “It’s over now, schatz,” a soft, familiar voice says, and you go completely still. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that, but it’s over now.”

Bloody gloved hands wrap around your wrists and guide your hands away from your face. You watch in terror as Alexis’s kind face comes into view, pristine and clean now that mask is removed.

You hiccup, a new round of sobs starting despite you having no more tears to shed.

As Alexis gently cups your face in his hands, Kaiser presses a kiss to your thrumming pulse, before moving his lips to the shell of your ear.

“You’ll look at us now, won’t you?”

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