Chapter TwentyOne

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A/N: Yeh, I think Leo (Loke) from Fairy tail fits Zack, playful but can be serious!


"I see now that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."
― Takeshi Shudo, The Art Of Pokemon, the Movie: Mewtwo Strikes Back!

" ― 	Takeshi Shudo, The Art Of Pokemon, the Movie: Mewtwo Strikes Back!

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Seth's P.O.V

  Jasper and I stood waiting just out the front door, watching Willow as she looked around the house before looking at us, her face blank but her eyes seemed to swim with pain.

Just then, Jasper took a sharp inhale, quickly going to Willow and holding onto her.

"Before we go, where does he do it?" he asks carefully. What was he on about? Did he mean the abuse? Just thinking about it made my blood boil, a rage in myself that I hadn't felt before brewing beneath my surface, fighting to get out and rampage against the appropriate offenders.

"In there" Willow points over to a wall but that's all there is. A wall. Confusion crossed over both of us. "Where?"Jasper asked, eyeing the spot that she had pointed to. Willow walked up to that particular spot and grabbed a small handle that I had completely missed, it was almost invisible with the horrible 90's wallpaper that was peeling and looked slightly mouldy. The door swung open and Jasper stepped passed and disappeared whilst Willow flicked on a light, just looking in. She looked conflicted for a moment before a black mask settled over her.

Stepping behind her, I carefully place a hand on her shoulder as shes about to pass through the door, scaring her as she whips round to look up at me.

"Sh! It's just me panda! I just wanted to make sure you're okay to go down there." I reassure her, glancing in to see dark wooden stairs, probably in need of some repairs at least. Looking back at her, she shakes her head, stepping away.

"I need to do this" she close to whispers as she turns and makes her way carefully down the stairs, her hand ghosting over the banister as she went. I made sure to stay close in case the stairs gave, or she fell.

As we reached the bottom, I couldn't stop my eyes from taking in the room and my blood going cold instantly in my veins. It's one thing to be told that someone you care for had suffered in some horrible fashion, that alone was enough to push me past the point of rationality, but seeing the evidence of it in front of me?

It was a large, cement basement, damp and dark besides the one bulb in the centre of the room. Three of the walls bare, the third was set up like a work station. The only other object in this room was a tall, steel pole in the centre of the room, which I couldn't seem to drag my eyes away from. The amount of dried blood on and surrounding the pole was incomprehensible. It was layered around thickly, like it had built up over years of leaving it to dry. I couldn't stop myself from stepping closer to the offensive object infront of me, unable to pay attention to anything else around me.

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