Chapter 48 48

Chapter 48 48
Sky guided Azxel down the familiar hallway toward the therapy wing, his hand firm on the small of Azxel’s back. Azxel stayed close, his head bowed down, still quiet and withdrawn.

At the door to the individual session room, Sky stopped.

“Sit and listen,” he said softly, brushing a thumb over Azxel’s cheek. “I’ll be right back. Just have to run a quick errand.”

Azxel nodded obediently, stepping inside. The door clicked shut behind him.

The therapist was already waiting, he looked tall, older with his graying hair neatly combed behind him. He gestured to the chair opposite him.

“Azxel. Good to see you. Please, take a seat.”Azxel sat quietly, his hands folded in his lap, his eyes focused on the floor.

The session started normally enough, with the therapist carrying out some exercises and asking him questions about his mood, sleep and appetite.

Azxel answered in monosyllables, either he says fine, okay, not hungry. The therapist probed gently about relationships, triggers and dependency.

Then the tone shifted.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with my son,” the man said quietly.

Azxel’s head snapped up.

“You’re… Sky’s dad?”

The therapist, Dr. Harlan nodded, his expression unreadable.

“I am. And I’ve watched the way he keeps you close. The way you follow him, the way you….”

Azxel shifted uncomfortably.

Harlan leaned forward, his voice low and steady. “Azxel, I’m going to speak plainly because someone needs to. Sky can’t be saved. Not from what’s inside him. He’s been this way since he was a child, manipulative, controlling, drawn to breaking things that are already fragile. I’ve tried for years. Therapy, medication, institutions, but nothing sticks.”

Azxel’s fingers tightened in his lap.

“That’s not —”

“He disappears for days to watch you unravel,” Harlan continued calmly. “He hurts you on purpose, then calls it love when you come crawling back. He enjoys the power. It’s not attachment; it’s ownership. And you’re feeding it.”

Azxel shook his head slowly.

“No. He cares about me. He comes back. He—”

“He comes back because he knows you’ll wait,” Harlan said. “Because he’s trained you to. You’re not the first, Azxel. There were others before you, patients, boys, girls who thought they could fix him. They all ended up worse. Some didn’t make it out of places like this.”

Azxel’s breathing quickened.

“That’s not true. You’re lying.”

Harlan’s eyes softened, but his voice stayed firm.

“I wish I were. I’ve read his files. I’ve seen the patterns. He isolates you, then rewards small obedience with affection so you crave it more. He makes you doubt your own memory, your own feelings. That’s not love. That’s deliberate.”

“Stop,” Azxel whispered, shaking his head harder. “That’s not true. That’s not him.”

“He will destroy you,” Harlan said quietly. “And when he’s done, he’ll walk away without a backward glance. Stay away from him, Azxel. For your own sake.”

Azxel’s hands were trembling now.

“No. No, no, no— he wouldn’t— he loves me—”

The door suddenly banged open.

Sky stood in the doorway, his chest rising and falling fast. His eyes flicked from Azxel’s tear streaked face to his father’s calm one.

Harlan didn’t flinch.

“We’re in a session, Sky.”

Sky didn’t answer him. He crossed the room in three strides, his gaze locked on Azxel who was shaking and whispering, “that’s not true” over and over under his breath.

Harlan kept talking, his voice steady.

“You deserve someone who doesn’t need to break you to feel whole—”

Sky snapped.

He lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grab his father by the throat, slamming him back against the chair. Harlan’s words cut off with a choked gasp.

Sky’s fingers tightened, his knuckles turning white, his face twisted with rage.

Azxel’s head jerked up at the sound.

“Sky—!”

The impact knocked a framed certificate loose; it clattered to the floor, its glass shattering.

Harlan gasped, his hands scrabbling at Sky’s wrist, but Sky didn’t flinch. His face was calm, but his eyes were cold and flat, the rage buried under something far more dangerous.

“Sky— stop—”

Azxel’s voice came out small, barely above a whisper from the chair. He hadn’t moved. His knees were drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around them, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular. His thumb was in his mouth, his teeth worrying the nail until the skin around it turned white, then red.

Sky didn’t look at him.

He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a small folding knife, the kind they weren’t supposed to have in the facility. He flicked it open with a soft click.

Harlan’s eyes widened.

“Sky—”

“Shut up,” Sky said quietly.

He pressed the flat of the blade against his father’s cheek, just below the eye. Then he turned it, the edge kissing his dad’s skin, and then, he drew it down slow and deliberate. A thin red line bloomed instantly, blood beading along the cut like a string of rubies.

Harlan hissed, his body jerking, but Sky’s grip on his throat kept him pinned.

Another slice pieced Harlan’s skin lower, along the jaw. Shallower this time, his skin parted cleanly, blood trickling in slow rivulets down his father’s neck, staining the collar of his shirt.

Azxel’s breathing grew shallow and rapid. He rocked slightly in the chair, his thumb still in his mouth, and his nail chewed down to the quick now. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring at a spot on the floor between his feet. A low, continuous whimper escaped him barely audible, like air leaking from a punctured tire.

Sky leaned in close to his father’s ear. “You don’t get to talk about me like I’m not in the room,” he murmured. “You don’t get to tell him anything about me.”

He put the blade in his skin across his forehead this time, just deep enough to bleed freely. Blood dripped into Harlan’s eyebrow, down the side of his nose.

Harlan’s voice came out strangled.

“You’re proving… my point…”

Sky smiled but It didn’t reach his eyes.

He dragged the blade down again slowly, savoring opening a fourth thin line along the other cheek.

Azxel’s rocking grew faster. His free hand clutched his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. Tears tracked silently down his face, but he didn’t blink. Didn’t speak. He just chewed and rocked and stared.

Sky’s knuckles were white around the knife handle.

He raised it again and pressed the blade deeper this time, dragging it across Harlan’s throat in one slow, deliberate motion. The cut opened wide, a dark red smile that bubbled and poured. Harlan’s eyes bulged, his hands clawing uselessly at Sky’s wrist as blood spilled hot and fast down his chest.

A wet, gurgling sound escaped his throat, he was trying to form a wed but it came out as a forced choke. His body jerked once, twice, then sagged heavily against the wall, held up only by Sky’s grip.

Sky didn’t let go until the struggling stopped entirely.

When he finally released him, Harlan slid down the wall in a limp heap, leaving a thick smear of red on the paint. His eyes stayed open, staring blankly at the ceiling.

The room was silent except for the soft drip of blood hitting tile.

Azxel hadn’t moved from the chair. He sat curled tight, his knees to chest, rocking in tiny, mechanical motions. His thumb was still in his mouth, his nail chewed raw and bleeding. His gaze was fixed on nothing, pupils blown wide, hi face blank with shock.

He turned slowly, breathing steady, and walked toward Azxel.

His shoes left faint red prints on the floor.

Azxel didn’t look up until Sky was right in front of him.

Sky crouched, bringing them eye level. His hands still slick with blood rose gently to Azxel’s face. He wiped at the tear tracks on Azxel’s cheeks with his thumbs, smearing blood across his pale skin. The edge of the folded knife in his right hand pressed lightly against Azxel’s jaw as he did it just enough for the metal to kiss skin, a tiny sting that drew a thin bead of blood.

Azxel didn’t flinch. He just stared, emptily.

Sky smiled softly and tender. “Hey, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you. He was lying, you know that, right? He wanted to take you away from me.”

Azxel’s lip trembled.

Sky leaned closer, his forehead almost touching Azxel’s.

“I love you. You know I love you. He was never going to stop trying to hurt us. But it’s just you and me now. No one else gets to come between us.”

He cupped Azxel’s face fully, his thumbs stroking gently, ignoring the way blood transferred from his skin to Azxel’s.

“You don’t have to think about him anymore. Okay? Just look at me.”

Azxel’s breath hitched.

Then, suddenly, he lunged forward, his arms wrapping desperately around Sky’s neck, and his face burying into his shoulder like he needed to inhale his scent . He clung hard, his fingers digging into Sky’s back, his body shaking with silent sobs.

Sky’s arms came around him immediately, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other splayed possessively across his spine.

“That’s it,” Sky whispered against his hair. “Good boy. I’ve got you.”

Azxel nodded frantically into his neck, holding tighter.

Sky closed his eyes, his smile deepening, slow, satisfied, complete and most especially victorious.

Everything was exactly as it should be.

Azxel was his again, not until he destroys him.

Completely.