hide from your family
they won't know you now

Self destruction. Wouldn’t that be nice. Dimitri would quite like to simply well up and burst one day. Everything that raged on inside his head would simply get to be too much, and he’d pop. Didn’t sound that hard, now did it? Not to him. Not to the shadow’s son. It was perfectly natural, something that he was allowed to want. His father had nearly done it several times. Quinn was dead now. He could only assume the same of Makism, though you could never be sure with the shadow himself. He was so like his son. He was so like the idea to well up and burst, a blister that’s been rubbed on for far too long.

He feels like that, no more and no less. A blister, just waiting for a sharp, sterile needle to break through the outer skin and pop the inside. Yes, he felt as if his own insides would pop. That was the point of gnawing through the flesh on his leg, to feel himself torn and bleeding. He was meant to bleed. To bleed was to be alive, and how else could he have been sure? He’d been lied to for so long. Everything, everything he wanted and everything he knew, was a lie.

Jaidah wasn’t the one he mourned. Even after all this time, Dimitri was aching over the losses of the family he’d never really had. Pompeii had been killed. Delta had been murdered. There was something there that sent his self-worth down the drain. Delta had been killed because of him. There was a guilt that he would never be able to escape. There was nothing that he could escape, not now. He couldn’t handle that it was his duty to wear the heavy collar of it around his neck, dragging him around forever. The only thing that felt better was to bleed. He needed to bleed, so he bled.

And then there is Chael. From the moment the man crops up, Dimitri’s lips lift over pearly white teeth. They shine still, like snow, save for the pink tint that still stain them. He’d bitten into his own tongue as well, teeth sinking into the tender muscle hard enough to leave marks. Yes, Dimitri wanted to feel pain. He was the one who wanted to hurt now, and the appearance of the omega sent his hackles up. It was a rough ridge of fur along the back of the shadow’s son. He didn’t want this.

Yet here he was, presenting what could only be construed as comfort. Blood still oozed from the wound on his foreleg, the sting of the sticky air against the skin not enough. It was never enough. He never felt alive enough to truly feel alive. Hell, he didn’t even make sense anymore. There’s still a growl in his chest as his eyes fix on the omega. “Then it will be you bleeding, not me.” A short pause. Dramatic effect. “Then there will be no point.” The words drip the slightest venom, a silvery strand of acid green dripping from his jaws. Yes, the malice is there, but it’s simmering only slowly.

dimitri
{ four }{ male }{ 44” }{ 105lbs }{ unimprintable }{ iromar }{ no mate }

html by ariel