The Blood of the Soul

Nothing is Forever

TW: Please note that this chapter contains references to suicidal thoughts/tendencies, briefly depicts child abuse, and contains graphic depictions of violence.

A/N: This is still in Liam's POV, and it's long. Maybe one of these days I'll learn how to write short chapters.

Steam curled in wafting clouds across the bathroom as Liam let the scorching water wash over him, soothing his stiff, aching muscles. When he'd rid his hair and his skin of the river stench, Liam wrapped a towel around his waist and swiped at the fogged mirror. His skin was pink and aggravated from the extreme temperature fluctuations. He rested his palms on the countertop as he examined the bruises around his neck, the shallow scrapes across his hands from where he'd landed in the glass of the broken TV, the tender spot on the side of his head from the base of the lamp.

A name fluttered against his ears—little wolf. The whisper wasn't taunting or playful the way Theo spoke it. No, it was whispered as a curse, flung like an insult.

Behind his reflection, a face emerged from the steam.

His heart caught in his throat, but he gripped the countertop to steady himself. He wasn't sure how the hell the nightmare creature had gotten back inside, or if some piece of it had embedded itself in his mind.

"You'll never be strong enough," the demon wearing his father's face said. "You can't even protect yourself."

As much as the words stung, as much as they drudged up the past, Liam set his jaw against them.

"You're not real."

The reflection of his father ran his nails along a stake carved with his distinct pattern. "If I'm not real, then how can I do this?"

Liam shut his eyes, convinced that his father would vanish the second he did, but his father was as tangible as the towel around his waist—and so was the pain that lanced through him as the stake slashed across his back.

A cry of pain nearly ripped out of him, but Liam swallowed it, refusing to let even the barest sound escape him. Pain was second nature. He embraced the sting of it, let it fuel his attack as he spun and lashed out against the creature.

Liam nearly slammed into the towel rack as it vanished before his eyes.

Pushing away from the wall, Liam twisted until he could examine the damage in the mirror. The cut was deep enough that droplets of blood trickled down his otherwise smooth skin. Liam reached around, surprised when crimson came away on his fingertips.

This wasn't just a figment of his imagination. Not anymore.

Liam tugged on a hoodie and a pair of dark blue jeans before bursting out of the bathroom. Mia was sitting cross legged beside Theo on the couch with her sketch pad spread across her lap. Theo fully captivated by her retelling of their yearly camping adventures to the lake Mia's dad took them to every year.

No sooner had Liam leaned his shoulder against the entrance to the living room than Theo's eyes flicked up to his. His nose scrunched, and Liam suddenly regretted not having cleaned the cut better. Theo could probably smell the fresh blood.

"Mia, can I use your phone? Pretty sure Theo killed mine earlier."

"I did not!" Theo protested.

Mia handed her phone over. "Does this have something to do with why you both were soaking wet earlier?"

"Yup," Liam said, popping the p.

Liam set her phone down in the center of the wobbly dining room table.