Luck’s descent (BL)

When Shane hit the slippery floor, he lay there exhausted. The door slammed behind him and he ended up alone in the bathroom. Nielle ordered him to wash up and wait in the main room for his orders, but Shane didn't have the energy to think what he had in mind.

He slowly got to his knees and looked up at the stone tiles with several holes filled with water. He didn't stop to think that this was exactly what the bath rooms in Lacris looked like and tried to get to his feet. But he couldn't do it. His whole body was shaking, all his muscles gave out, and he couldn't get up even if he really wanted to. But he didn't even really want to.

Therefore, he only slowly dragged himself to the nearby part with water and gently touched its surface. It was warm, so much so that he didn't want to crawl into it. He slowly moved to the other part of the water, which was slightly cooler, but still not enough to tempt Shane. He passed a few more before he stopped at the far end filled with almost ice water. He gently touched its surface and looked at his reflection in the water. He looked terrible, as if a pack of wolves had attacked him and torn him apart inside and out...and he felt the same.

He just hypnotized his face on the surface for a moment before moving his hand to his neck. He just gently ran his fingers over the invisible marks that he felt so clearly and stopped for a moment as if he couldn't believe what had just happened. He was kneeling stiffly at the edge of the tub, as if collecting his thoughts, as if trying to pull himself together. However, he couldn´t do so. No matter how able he was to do it in any situation, no matter how many times he had done it in the past, he couldn't do it right now.

A hot drop fell into the ice water. Shane watched as it created a ripple on the surface, only to be immediately followed by another. And another one. Tears finally streamed down Shane's face, unable to calm down, unable to cope with what Nielle he had just done to him. With the palm of his neck, he slowly dug his nails into the skin and dug them deeper almost subconsciously. He slowly moved his hand down, making a shallow scratch, forcing his eyelids to close slightly. New tears slid down his face, a loud sob left his mouth.

He dug his nails harder into his neck, jerking his fingers sharply to the side, creating a bleeding gash. But it wasn't enough, it wasn't enough at all. He brought his hand back to his neck and dug into it again, scratching harder with his nails, trying to get rid of the disgusting marks. He didn't know how, but he kept trying anyway. He needed to get it off, he wanted to get it off, he needed to get it off so badly that he could grind all his skin and muscle down to his bones just to get rid of it.

But it didn't work.

He continued to scratch aggressively until the water in front of him turned pink. The burgundy drops mixed with his tears and created tiny spots on the surface. But Shane couldn't see them through the tears. He inhaled loudly and sobbed aggressively, the disgusting feeling of despair filling him, how he couldn't calm down. His nails dug into his flesh, more blood ran down his neck, more tears ran down his face and he couldn't go on any longer, exhausted he was becoming.

His throat was burning, his body was still shaking, but the thoughts couldn't disappear from his head, he couldn't get rid of them. Disgusting flashbacks of the torture chamber, of the collar Nielle had put on him, played in his mind, mixing with the memories he tried to repress, the memories that had tormented him for years and that he tried so hard to erase. But now it wasn´t possible, they were there. Whether he closed his eyes or kept them open, he saw those disgusting marks everywhere...on himself, on others, he saw them everywhere, he heard his own scream, he heard their laughter, he felt his own despair, how helpless he was, how he had no choice...never had a choice.

"Nghááááááááágh!" he hit the water violently, stirring up blood and tears.

However, the second blow wasn´t aimed at the water, it was aimed at the ground. He slammed his fists into the tiles. Subsequently, he hit the edge of the bath, again into the stone, into the surface, into the stone. He pounded aggressively into the hard ground, he could feel his palms burning, he could feel his bones echoing in protest for him to stop, but he didn't listen to them. He just pounded the ground desperately, trying to stop it...trying to stop the disgusting thoughts, the disgusting feeling. Especially when he felt the collar again, had it on his neck again, was bound by it again. Desperate crying filled the room as he couldn't calm down, couldn't stop, couldn't do anything.

He bent down sharply and hit the floor with his ankle, but nothing changed. The momentary pain wasn´t enough, it was nothing, and his disgusting thoughts continued.

Shane let out a desperate shriek and aggressively dug his nails into his forearm, creating deep gashes in a harsh tug and then, still unable to shake off the feelings, bit down roughly on his hand. His teeth pierced the skin, blood spilled over his hands and he just cried desperately.

He kept biting, holding his palm with his teeth and trying to calm down, trying to focus on the pain instead of the thoughts. Although many types of pain, no matter how strong, didn´t work, some sometimes worked despite being weaker.

Shane had gotten to know them well over the years, he knew that sometimes they would work, sometimes they wouldn't. But also sometimes there was nothing that worked, nothing didn't really help, no matter what he did.

That's why he just kept going. He aggressively held one hand in his tooth, felt the burning that came from the wound, and dug his nails into his thigh with the other. He tried to focus on it, tried to clear his mind, tried to get back to normal. But it wasn't possible...at least not right away. It took some time before he could do it a little, some time before the impulses from his nerves became more important to his mind, and he felt the vivid images grow duller, less and less, his heart stilling.

Tears were still running down his cheeks, he couldn't stop his loud sobs between his teeth, but still he was starting to feel a little better...at least a little...that's why he continued...for a minute, two, switching places, digging his nails into one leg, then to the another. He held his forearm in his teeth for a while, his palm for a while, his fingers for a while until he felt like he was going to bite them off before his mind was able to focus a little more normally.

The disgusting feeling from the marks on his neck didn't go away, but at least he didn't have before his eyes the agonizing memories of the time when he wore them for the first time. His own fear didn't subside, but at least it no longer forced him to thoughts he couldn't stand no matter how hard he tried.

When his senses calmed down a bit, when he got his thoughts in order a bit, about an hour had passed since he entered the room. He slowly lowered his bloody hand down and went to his scratched thighs where he had created ugly wounds. Tears were still running down his cheeks, sobs were still coming out of his mouth, but at least he could control them a little.

He gently put his hands to his eyes and cried loudly. He needed to get over it, he needed to get over it so it wouldn't happen again anytime soon.

And so, after a few minutes of moaning loudly, sobbing into his hands and trying to clear his thoughts of nastiness, he finally quieted down a bit. His tears only silently ran down his cheeks, his hands slipped to his thighs and gently to the water.

He made a slow movement towards it and without hesitation he fit into the bath.

The number of injuries on his body, whether from today, from himself, from yesterday or from other days, turned the water a soft pink and he surfaced after a while. A strong rush of icy water washed over him and he blinked a few times before plunging back down.

He stayed in the cold water for a while, didn't think about anything, tried to remain empty in it and waited for when he would really feel better. And when he felt that it was bearable... that he could focus on the present and recover from things that didn´t concern him at the moment, he slowly emerged.

He just stood in the middle of the tub for a while, wondering where he had made the mistake of still getting into similar situations. He stood for a while, reflecting slowly, finally in depersonalization, the memories from today's moments in the torture chamber and pondered what could be done with them.

After his despair disappeared, after the initial shock wore off and he more or less regained his composure, he was able to look at things rationally again, he was able to realize how he had overreacted. And although he couldn't control how poorly he behaved at that moment, he was filled with anger...against himself and the bastard who caused him a panic attack.

He just thought in silence for a while before a words came out of his mouth, expressing all the feelings he was feeling right now.

"Bastard," he said irritably, ,,one day I will repay you all."

No matter how unstable Shane was in certain situations, no matter what memories came back and made him a weakling, once he came to his senses, he was able to clearly realize who was to blame for everything and who was responsible for his feelings. And clearly, there he wasn´t someone who would put it behind him, as if nothing had happened or give in permanently. Even if he had already done so in a moment of weakness.

Shane knew the causes of his fear, knew them well enough that he could usually prepare for them. And now that he couldn't once, that he allowed Nielle to find something he shouldn´t and cause him something Shane really didn't want to experience ever again, he unleashed an aggression in his new Lacrisan that he hadn't felt in a long time. And as much as Nielle thought he had won over Shane, he didn't even know how he'd screwed up.

Because Shane really wasn't a good boy. But Nielle was to find out all that soon.