𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 | [𝐁𝐋]

第二 | TWO

( warnings: blood, religious imagery, violence, yandere behavior, sin, purity, discrimination, drugs and alcohol, addiction, unhealthy coping mechanisms, sexual assault, mentioned self harm, graphic scenes, extreme self hate. )

In general, warnings will be included at the start of every chapter if necessary. Please tell me if I leave anything out. The content inside might be sensitive to some so viewer discretion is advised.

Regarding the religious aspect, it is heavily based on Christianity, but it's written to be more of a cult than an actual religion. Only certain aspects are similar to Christianity, but the majority of it is made up and written to be slightly more diabolical.

Again, I emphasise that this book is extremely dark, darker than twisted faith. Please read the chapter warnings beforehand.

I'm so blessed with the support you guys have shown! Comment for motivation along the way, and I'll update faster!

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Betrayal.

Anton spoke of betrayal, like it wasn't his fault of how Y/n ended up. Betrayal, like Y/n had stuck a dagger into his back when really, he hadn't done any of that. The words dried in his throat and Y/n found himself looking at Anton, wrenching his fingers with such numbing ferocity his knuckles started to turn white.

Anton looked at him expectantly. It was strange, that even when he wasn't clothed with those robes of his, that attire of his—he reeked of divine authority. Y/n had thought multiple times to himself with bitterness, that the man in front of him was really favoured and loved by the Gods.

"So?" Anton prompted, his words careless. Yet they held enough of a dangerous note for Y/n to see it was a warning. "Disappearing like that, darling. Haven't I told you before? Running away from me is futile."

The priest did. There were times where Y/n felt phantom pain on his body that reminded him of that time and tears would start to roll down his face, and his heart would feel strangely empty, like it had been wrenched away from him.

What could Y/n say to justify his betrayal, as Anton put it? Give his body again? There was a deep, rational fear—or perhaps irrational, Y/n hadn't put much thought into it—that Y/n had started to develop. The constant need for pain. The constant need to perhaps—no, the need to hurt himself. In any way possible he needed to prove he was still a living being, a human, and the crimson blood that flowed from his wounds would prove that. Forks, used with a great enough force, could work. Razor knives were the ideal, but Y/n hadn't put it into action. But now he felt the need to do something, anything, instead of simply putting his hands down. He focused on digging his fingernails into his skin.

"I don't know," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I—" 

Then shame overtook him once more. Just minutes ago Y/n had dared to be feisty, and to defy him. But now under the piercing blue eyes that threatened to uncover every secret he had, Y/n found himself faltering. He saw, in hallucinations and dribs and drabs, his sanity flying from him, taunting him.

"—I don't know." Y/n said at last, his voice cracking. "I couldn't stay in that world. I couldn't. I..."

"You are not giving me a coherent response," Anton's tone was deadly calm, and Y/n started to shiver, his fingers digging further still into his skin. Trickles of blood started to fall down, but Y/n looked at it with satisfaction. Morbid curiosity. So I'm not dead yet, he thought, for my body still works. It is only my soul that is gone. Anton had ripped his spirit away from him and there was nothing left. "...Perhaps something can remind you of what you told me previously."