the last something that meant anything.
This was an entirely new feeling for Ash.
Terror and horror were two different things. Terror was sort of a prelude to the latter; almost like in a scary movie. You can feel it in your stomach, deep deep down inside your gut that if the young, attractive star of the show goes behind that door she's going to die. Terror grips your nerves and rattles your bones in the most unpleasent way. But then again, it hasn't happened yet. You've yet to experience the horror of seeing her being butchered; her pretty face all cut up and unrecognizeable, bleeding from every contusion and bash, screaming from pain and gasping for breath. Horror is seeing it, experiencing it. It's the feeling of wanting to puke up everything you've eaten because you simply cannot handle it, and you are inside of terror like a warm coat. There is an unspeakable element found in horror that you simply couldn't find in terror. Reality.
That's what the young boy felt. The reality of horror as he stood in the corner of the room he shared with his boyfriend, watching the unfolding event infront of him. It was obvious what he was witnessing, but he couldn't come to terms with it yet because it actually hadn't happened yet, but his stomach flipped with every punch he saw thrown towards Craig and make contact. He heard Jack's knuckles pop with each swing and afterwards the sickening crack of something breaking, and he didn't have to look to realize that it was the sound of a jaw being disconnected. And with an eerie knowing, Ash could tell it wasn't Jack's jaw who broke. The youngest male's hands flew up to cover his mouth, choking any sobs or cries that threatened to spill past his parted, panting lips. There was nothing more that he wanted to do than stop the fight occuring in the place where he slept, but he simply wasn't strong enough.
Ash knew it was a terrible mistake to bring Craig back to the cabin that him and Jack shared before Jack started spending most of his time in the palace, a magnificent building that Ash could only imagine being real in books or pictures. But he'd missed the other male so much, and he hadn't counted on his boyfriend coming to see him. Craig was going to die. It was a long time coming; a spark of hatred that never seemed to leave Jack's body and posessed him into hurting craig whenever he could, but no. This was it.
With tears streaming down his flushed, terrified face from wide brown eyes; Ash watched. After a few more blows, Craig wasn't in any more position to fight and with a sudden twists of bodies, Jack had his arms around Craig's neck and there was a sickening snap and a sudden void was ripped from Ash's heart. No more tears fell and his heart stopped beating for a moment, mouth ajar behind his hands as he watched as Jack let the other males body drop to the floor, and Ash did the same, sinking to his knees in the corner as he looked at the dead body in the middle of his bedroom.
He could feel vomit rising in his throat and he tried his best to surpress it, placing his hands on his stomach, attempting everything to settle it to a mere stabbing pain. The only thing that left his mouth were screams and pleas, a soft mantra of no and whimpers that sounded so inhumane, so broken and sad;
so horrified.
Terror and horror were two different things. Terror was sort of a prelude to the latter; almost like in a scary movie. You can feel it in your stomach, deep deep down inside your gut that if the young, attractive star of the show goes behind that door she's going to die. Terror grips your nerves and rattles your bones in the most unpleasent way. But then again, it hasn't happened yet. You've yet to experience the horror of seeing her being butchered; her pretty face all cut up and unrecognizeable, bleeding from every contusion and bash, screaming from pain and gasping for breath. Horror is seeing it, experiencing it. It's the feeling of wanting to puke up everything you've eaten because you simply cannot handle it, and you are inside of terror like a warm coat. There is an unspeakable element found in horror that you simply couldn't find in terror. Reality.
That's what the young boy felt. The reality of horror as he stood in the corner of the room he shared with his boyfriend, watching the unfolding event infront of him. It was obvious what he was witnessing, but he couldn't come to terms with it yet because it actually hadn't happened yet, but his stomach flipped with every punch he saw thrown towards Craig and make contact. He heard Jack's knuckles pop with each swing and afterwards the sickening crack of something breaking, and he didn't have to look to realize that it was the sound of a jaw being disconnected. And with an eerie knowing, Ash could tell it wasn't Jack's jaw who broke. The youngest male's hands flew up to cover his mouth, choking any sobs or cries that threatened to spill past his parted, panting lips. There was nothing more that he wanted to do than stop the fight occuring in the place where he slept, but he simply wasn't strong enough.
Ash knew it was a terrible mistake to bring Craig back to the cabin that him and Jack shared before Jack started spending most of his time in the palace, a magnificent building that Ash could only imagine being real in books or pictures. But he'd missed the other male so much, and he hadn't counted on his boyfriend coming to see him. Craig was going to die. It was a long time coming; a spark of hatred that never seemed to leave Jack's body and posessed him into hurting craig whenever he could, but no. This was it.
With tears streaming down his flushed, terrified face from wide brown eyes; Ash watched. After a few more blows, Craig wasn't in any more position to fight and with a sudden twists of bodies, Jack had his arms around Craig's neck and there was a sickening snap and a sudden void was ripped from Ash's heart. No more tears fell and his heart stopped beating for a moment, mouth ajar behind his hands as he watched as Jack let the other males body drop to the floor, and Ash did the same, sinking to his knees in the corner as he looked at the dead body in the middle of his bedroom.
He could feel vomit rising in his throat and he tried his best to surpress it, placing his hands on his stomach, attempting everything to settle it to a mere stabbing pain. The only thing that left his mouth were screams and pleas, a soft mantra of no and whimpers that sounded so inhumane, so broken and sad;
so horrified.