#Dante Bowe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starhvney · 26 days ago

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𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟑 | 𝟏𝟔: 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

𝐂𝐖: um... more violence and mentions of traumatic injuries, cussing but like how offensive is that in comparison to the other stuff at this point

𝐀/𝐍: oh snap it’s going down (intense traumatic experiences)

𝐖𝐂: 4,600+

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑: the one, the onlyyyy @arienic !!! *blows airhorn*

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

laughter carries through the air, the mix of everyone’s joyous voices in the room warming your chest the same way your hot chocolate warmed your hands. you settle back into the ro'meaves’ couch, the worn-in material allowing you to sink into the cushions where you were lodged between lucinda and dante.

“okay!” aphmau squeals, clapping her hands excitedly in the center of the room. “it’s time to exchange the secret santa gifts!”

you’re perfectly content where you sit, though, with a soft smile on your face as you glance around the room. everyone was bundled up in their sweaters and cozy pajamas, excitedly getting up to give and receive their gifts and giggling as they bumped into each other. oh, you suppose you should get up when lucinda’s hand grasps onto your arm to help you along with her, the mature scent of her perfume wafting along your face and the tinkling of her bracelets pleasantly gracing your ears.

“c’mon, sweetie. you can’t fall asleep now,” she coos playfully.

“i wasn’t! just enjoying the moment,” you defend, only earning a teasing look from her in response before she prances off with an amused huff.

you shake your head, chuckling quietly to yourself as you pick up vylad’s gift, shuffling around the crowd and earning a hair ruffle from dante and a nose pinch from teony as you go, the two of them being the touchiest of your friends as always. not that you minded—coming from anyone in this room. you kind of enjoyed that you were close enough to them for them to want to casually reach out to you in a sudden burst of affection. it was cute.

vylad immediately turns to look down at you with a dimpled grin as you hold out your gift, giving you a grateful nod. “hey! merry christmas.”

“merry christmas,” you return, shuffling on your feet as he starts to open his gift, starting to feel a bit nervous if he’d like it.

his face lights up as he opens the box, mouth cracking open in surprise as he reaches in, pulling out the 35mm camera film bundle you got. “woah, there’s so much! and a calligraphy set too?”

“yeah… sorry i didn’t get as much film because it can get kind of expensive… but i thought i’d get you something you’d use the most.”

“no, no, don’t apologize. this is perfect!” he insists, his voice full of genuine thankfulness. “how did you even know i liked all of this? or what kind of camera i had?”

“i totally interrogated your mom about what kind of camera you had. shout out to zianna,” you laugh. “i remember you talking about liking photography and how you liked to write, so…”

“wow. i’m not secretive but i didn’t realize i was that easy to read,” he muses, wrapping an arm around your shoulder for a hug. “you really put a lot of thought and effort into this, i can tell. this is so awesome.”

“aw, i’m really glad you liked it.” you sheepishly return the hug before stepping back again.

“i more than like it, i love it. thanks!”

a gentle tap on your shoulder diverts your attention from the heartfelt scene you were in. nana gives you a sweet smile when you turn to her, her eyes forming into crescents as she presents a rather large pink gift bag with a cute snowman on it.

“hi! i was your secret santa,” she giggles as if it weren’t obvious.

“oh! thank you, nana.” you smile, taking the bag from her as she bounces expectantly on her toes.

“go ahead and open it!” she ushers, tail swishing behind her, the tiny jingle bell on the bow she used to decorate it tinkling.

you laugh lightly as you appease her demands, pulling out the tissue paper to reveal quite an array of gifts.

“so, i remember you mentioning you thought the cookie cutters i had were super cute when we were making those sweets for everyone… so i got you some! and—and those are some earrings that reminded me of you, and—oh! that’s a blanket with kitties on it,” she rambles, pointing out each thing with a shimmer in her eyes. “that’s a cute journal i got for you because we had talked about how you wanted to start writing down your favorite memories so you never forgot them. remember?”

“wow, nana. you didn’t have to get all this for me…” you murmur, mouth agape as you admire the hardcover journal in your favorite color, its pages glinting gold around the edge.

“of course i did! you were one of the first people to actually care about me and try to become my friend at the school.” she rocks on her heels, hands folding behind her back. “you mean a lot to me, so i wanted your gift to be special.”

pulling in a big breath, you swallow thickly, overwhelmed by the affection poured onto you. your friends’ laughter buzzes in your ears as you reel in the moment, eyes wide. “thank you, so much… you mean a lot to me, too.”

“but, um…” she murmurs your name, face turning gravely serious. “i have to tell you something.”

strange. this isn’t how you remember this going.

“if you want to come back to us, you have to wake up.”

“…what?”

“wake up.”

a sharp inhale through your lungs pulls a veil of darkness over your eyes, replaced by a gray ceiling. there’s no warm laughter, no welcoming fireplace; just the cold, damp room you’ve been forced into for who knows how long now. your fingers dance across the thin sheets, chasing after the ghost of warm hands encasing yours, only to be met with the scratchy material irritating your skin.

your neck hurts; externally as you reach up to feel a crusted-over bandage, and internally as a lump forms inside. vision blurs and fingers tremble as a pathetic sob wracks your chest, the choked noise of pain echoing in the empty room. turning on your side, you gasp for air, your breaths tight and panicked. you can move again, you realize, but when you attempt to sit up and stand your body gives out on you and sends you sprawling onto the hard tile floor. using what little strength you have, you use your arms to drag yourself to the bars of your cell, grasping the bars and resting your cheek on the rusted metal.

tears pour down your face while your chest heaves unevenly, soaking into the gauze on your neck and staining your dirtied clothes. weakly, you lift your hand again, realizing through your hazy eyes how thin and pale you’d gotten. you’d been fully drained, your body pulling whatever it could from your muscles and bones just to keep your heart beating. more cries leave your lips as you reach up to your neck once again, tugging at its tight constraints with an angry cry. as it loosens with an uncomfortable crack from your skin a wave of fear washes over you, freezing you in place.

what if your head fell?

short breaths are sucked in through your mouth as you try not to move, slowly loosening the bandages again until they finally give free, unraveling onto your lap. you stay still for a few moments, staring at the dark red below you, before reaching up to feel where the blade had been lined against your neck. there it is: an indent, perfectly horizontal, reaching across where your jugular was.

she must not have completely beheaded you. if she did, would you not have woken up?

a feeling of utter hopelessness creeps into your veins starting from your hands and feet until it spills out in the form of more tears, a piteous weep leaving your lips. none of this makes sense to you. not the pain… not anything she said about your parents… or the man… or men behind it…? she mentioned two, didn’t she? no, no that’s not what she said…

not what she said about…

not what she said…

no.

what exactly did she tell you?

why can’t you remember it?!

there was something important! information you had to keep if you got out of here! what is it?!

“what happened…” you hiccup, lungs catching and stopping, breaths hiccuping. “what did you…”

your fingers dig into the metal, pressing uncomfortably into your bones as you manage some strength in your lungs and scream at him, “what did you do to me?!”

the muscles in your throat strain in protest, cracking your words as they echo in the empty corridor. raspy coughs leave your throat as your remaining strength gives out and you go limp where you sit. it’s a few minutes like this—maybe even an hour—before quiet footsteps slowly make their way toward your cell. you don’t bother looking up, only acknowledging who it is when someone kneels down by the door. black jeans, a dark blue shirt… it matches his hair.

he watches you from the side of his eye as he sets down a tray, sliding it under the door. when he moves to get up again, he hesitates, as if there's something he needs to say.

“please kill me,” you rasp, making him jump as he whips his head over to you, his eyes darting down to your fingers where they grasp onto his wrist. “just kill me. i can’t do it again.”

he gives you a look, eyes widening and lip curling. you can’t tell what it is. pity? disgust?

this is the first time you've really looked at him up close. a few scars litter his skin, his steel gray eyes startlingly harsh through his dark lashes. his nostrils flare as he pulls away from your touch, standing and backing away as he looks down on your miserable slumped form.

“i can’t,” he mutters. “but… i wouldn’t bite into your food too hard.”

you stare up at him, confusion muddling your features.

“and wait until dusk. that’s two hours from now.”

he turns on his heel and stalks away, glancing back at you once more over his back before quickly running back up the wooden staircase, leaving you alone as fast as he had appeared.

don’t bite into your food too hard.

the tray is by your feet, nothing but a pile of mush on it. you’re not sure what kind of food it’s supposed to be, but it most definitely wasn’t crunchy or solid. shakily, you reach out to the tray and pull it into your lap, hesitantly hovering your fingers over it.

what are you doing…

wriggling your fingers down into the semi-warm substance, they soon meet the cold center where a metal object is buried inside. your eyebrows pinch together when you pull it out, shaking the food away to reveal a… key. did he just…?

he gave you the key to the cell. he’s helping you escape.

two hours from now.

“thank you,” you whisper to the void, even if you know the boy is long gone.

would he be punished for this? a part of you worries for him, but the selfish want for self-preservation has those thoughts pushed to the back of your mind, replaced by the memory of warm arms around your shoulders. you had to get back. this wasn’t the end. you didn’t have to die here. a joyful weep wobbles from your lips, as you begin to count the seconds. how many are in two hours?

one mississippi… two mississippi…three…

eight hundred and thirty-three…

five thousand six hundred and twenty-seven…

seven thousand two hundred.

you had eaten the plate of food to the best of your abilities, despite its bland taste and rather disgusting texture. it was like southern grits, but if it were slimy and void of any good flavor. still, you stomached it, and it at least gave you the strength to stand up on your legs without falling. your breathing was labored from the effort, but you had to do this, and you had to do it now.

nimbly sliding your fingers through the door’s bars, you fix the key into the lock and twist, a satisfying click meeting your ears as the door gives way to your weight leaning on it. it squeaks in the silent hallway, and for a moment you stand completely still as it swings all the way open.

you were free.

run. run run run run run run!

you take off towards the wooden stairs, careful to keep on your tiptoes, sliding your feet across the stone to make less noise as you go. slowing down at the wooden stairs, you’re careful to make a minimal amount of creaks as you ascend them, holding your breath as you listen closely to the floor above. there’s no talking, no shuffling or movement. did they go somewhere else?

at the top of the stairs, there's a wooden door. quiet prayers for it to be unlocked leave your lips as you approach it, and you have to stop yourself from letting out a cry of relief when it is, opening up to a dimly lit, huge room.

you were in a log cabin, though a mansion seems more suitable as a title. tall windows span up to the ceiling on one wall, overlooking a familiar scene of a forest. plush couches and red carpets littered the large space, setting up what was an over-the-top lounge room.

tentatively, you walk out from the doorway, looking up to realize it was somewhat hidden behind a staircase. the place seemed empty, but you sure weren’t going to stick around to find out. the only thing you can hear is your uneven breaths as you make your way to two large red doors, hands shaking as you push the heavy wood open. the sound of crickets beginning to chirp and fresh air enveloping your face is overwhelming, making your shaky steps stutter in place as you stare out at the tall trees ahead.

looking around, the coast is still clear. was what ein told you a red herring? this seemed too easy. running out to the empty driveway, you step beyond the pavement toward a nearby cliffside, looking over the forest beyond. there was nothing else in sight for miles, except for…

a tall lookout tower in the distance.

your face blanches, and the small amount of nutrients you had in your stomach comes rushing back up your throat in an instant. they were that close to you the whole time.

sputtered coughs leave your lips as you lean forward, hands resting on your knees while black spots your vision. what if they were just letting you go now? have you never been in control this whole time? not since the moment you moved? since the moment you were born? is there any point in escaping this?

there’s no time to delay anymore though, not when you’re taking off again towards the driveway, cutting into the treeline where you’re sure the road led off to. your lungs burn as they try to keep up with your legs, your throat barely taking in enough oxygen for you to stay conscious. you feel like you’re out of your body, merely spectating a memory as you weave through trees. your face feels cold and numb, and you vaguely feel the pain of your bare feet getting scraped and stabbed by the forest floor. black is beginning to spot your vision and the next moment your toe catches on a root, sending you tumbling down a steep hill with a sudden cry.

rolling to a stop, you gasp for air, yet none comes as panic continues to riddle your lungs.

“...you mean a lot to me…”

it feels like warm hands are lifting you, urging you to keep going, and as you stumble forward you realize you’ve made it to the road. warm asphalt meets your feet as you continue to try and catch your breath. the sun had set by now, disorienting any sense of direction you may have had in the first place.

as soon as your vision clears, you’re blinded by headlights and the screeching of rubber against the road—

you're sent flying, your hands painfully scraping as you land on your back. it feels like you’re dying, lungs on the verge of collapsing. even if it was your captors, you don’t think you could run or even crawl away, the stars in the sky beginning to spin and melt above you and the noise of the world around you turning into warbled echoes.

“oh my… is that… missing… girl that… gene… with.” a woman appears above you. you can’t make out her features. “holy shit… logan! call… help! …hospital…!”

“help,” you gasp. in a last attempt at freedom, you grasp onto her shirt.

“shh… you’re… okay, hun… safe…”

a tall man looming over the both of you is the last thing you see. strong arms lift you from the jagged ground; the bitter, metallic scent of your blood is the last thing you sense before the terrifying freedom of darkness overtakes you.

☆

over a week. it’s almost been two.

garroth stares blankly at the empty fireplace, stuck in the same position he’d sat in hours ago. he chews at the inside of his cheek again, wincing when he draws blood this time.

there's no telling where you are now or what’s happened to you. and it's all his fault. if he’d just walked with you down the sidewalk. it was two houses down. only two. that careless decision took you from him and everyone else who cared about you.

when you come back… if you do… he wouldn’t blame you if you hated him. if you never wanted to talk to him again, or even look at him. he deserved your resentfulness. he wouldn’t even mind it if it just meant you were back safe.

“hello?” zianna’s voice carries from the kitchen, her tone indicating she’d picked up a phone call.

vylad shifts from where he sat on the other side of the couch, turning down the volume of the tv that had been playing mindless background noise to his and garroth’s thoughts. his head turns to better hear their mother’s voice, only to flinch when the shattering of porcelain on the floor and a sharp gasp from the woman breaks the silence.

“where is she?”

garroth swallows, eyes widening before shooting up from his spot, sprinting into the kitchen and nearly crashing into the counter. he's gripping onto the marble top as he stares down his mom—the woman leaning back into the corner with a face void of color. her sweet, green eyes are glossy with tears, hand reaching out to zane whose eye flicks between her and the shattered plate in concern. for once, he looks to his two brothers without malice or annoyance, instead holding zianna’s hand with care as he leans in to overhear the other end of the line.

“and she’s okay?” she whimpers, shaking her head as she looks around, attempting to move. “where? where?”

garroth sucks in air, only just realizing he’d been holding his breath before rushing to his mom, lifting her over the shards threatening to slice her bare feet. she dashes over to snatch her keys up from the hallway table, sliding her feet into some sandals by the door—before stopping in the doorway, and turning to face her sons once again.

“i’m headed there now.”

as soon as the phone is pulled away from her face, questions hastily tumble from their mouths.

“she?”

“did they find her?”

“where are you going?”

she covers her mouth, pulling in a deep breath in an attempt to pull herself together in front of the kids. they were only kids. she was only a kid.

“yes—she—” she clears her throat, wiping at her bare face. “they found her. she’s in a hospital an hour from here. i’m headed there now—”

“i’m going!” garroth interrupts, startling the woman and making her jump in place.

“yes… all of you can come. i’m not even—” she waves them forward, pausing by the mirror and beginning to fix her hair—before shaking her head, footsteps quick as she goes off to the garage door. “just get in the car, boys. i need to call garte…”

all three of the boys follow, the youngest boy pulling out his phone and sending off a text as they scramble for their seats in the suv. zianna’s hands tremble as she starts the key in the ignition.

vylad: they found her.

laurance: wait what?

katelyn: please don’t tell me you’re lying

lucinda: is she okay?

travis: where???

nicole: which hospital???????

dante: are you serious? did they find her just now?

aphmau: she’s at nahakra hospital

teony: can we see her?

laurance: i don’t care i’m going anyway

nana: i’m crying please tell me she’s okay

aphmau: i don’t know there’s no details yet

katelyn: i’m going too

aphmau sent a location.

“mom.” zane’s voice cuts across the near-silent car. “it’s night. you’re driving crazy.”

zianna clears her throat as she slows down, and when garroth glances over she quickly wipes her face again, shaking her head. “i’m sorry boys, i’m just—oh, that poor baby. please, please let her be okay.”

the drive there is a long one, both having stretched on for far too long and blurring together in garroth’s memory as they now sit in the small hospital’s lobby.

“we can’t go see her at all?” sylvanna presses. the poor receptionist who they'd been badgering for the past hour shifts in her seat.

“i’m sorry, ma'am. all i can tell you is that she is alive and stable. but i can’t give you details or let you through unless you’re family.”

“she is family.”

“...i’m sorry. please understand i can’t do anything more until a doctor gives the clear. you can take a seat and have some refreshments until then.”

katelyn sighs, shifting as she glances at the analog clock above her. nana and aphmau let their heads bobble against her shoulders as she moves, hands clutched onto each other, exchanging words of worry that didn’t leave their lips.

12:40 am.

“no, man. they’re not even letting us see her,” laurance mutters into the phone, sighing tensely. “yeah, just come tomorrow if you want… yeah, i’ll text. yeah. bye.”

“was that dante?” aphmau shifts her head, voice quiet.

“yeah. his mom won’t drive him this late and he was trying to get… gene to come back from out of town to get him here.” his lips sour at the name, but he seems too tired to dwell on his own reservations. “...i think teony and lucinda won’t be coming until tomorrow, too.”

“makes sense…” nana rubs her swollen eyes, her nose still red. “the only reason i could come is 'cause aphmau picked me up.”

travis is uncharacteristically quiet, eyes round and knees hugged to his chest as he stares at the adults in the room.

following travis' line of sight, garroth glances over at the receptionist's desk. even his dad was here… his arm wrapped around zianna’s hunched shoulders as they exchanged hushed whispers with travis’s dad and… two people he’d never met before. aphmau had said something about aaron’s parents earlier, seeming confused herself, but why would they be here? or travis’s dad, for that matter… and what could the group of them possibly have so much to talk about so secretly and with such intensity?

“...fuck this. i’m finding something out,” he mutters, earning a questioning look from laurance as he stands from his seat, slowly making his way to the stairway and slipping through the door, thankful for sylvanna’s distraction to the staff.

they mentioned that you're in a room on the third floor. his feet skip every other step as he huffs his way up the flights, stopping at the thin window and glancing inside with narrowed eyes. the coast is clear, so, after catching his breath, he pushes through the door, glancing around the hall. he can hear distant chatter around the corner, and recognizes the familiar cadence of your mom’s voice. a pang of guilt and shame runs through him, his eyes dropping to the tiled floor as he moves closer, listening to her despaired, hitched breaths.

“...yes ma’am. torn ligaments in her feet, a fractured wrist, pretty deep fissures on her whole body… it’s all healed. the stitches pushed out of her skin. i really have no way to explain this except for an ancient magic that hasn’t been used by anyone for a long time. this kind of practice would be…” the doctor clears his throat, pausing. “ah, but… aside from her external injuries, our biggest issue is what came back on her brain scan… and her blood results.”

“what is it?” a gruff voice urges.

“she had large amounts of midazolam in her system. it’s a sedative that can cause some serious issues with hallucinations and memory recollection if abused. judging by the scan, it seems like she had a pretty consistent flow of it, but there’s also not enough information to tell how much she's been affected by it, and how much damage it's done.”

garroth’s mouth curls, hand coming to cover his face as the blood drains from his face.

“and…” the doctor seems to be choosing his words carefully, voice gentle. “there's more. not only was she given large amounts of midazolam, but her brain shows signs that we would see in a person who went through something highly traumatizing. it’s likely she will suffer from dissociative amnesia among other ptsd symptoms. i can’t tell you how she will react when she wakes up, as it varies among each patient… but she will require a lot of psychiatric help. i don’t mean to make this worse, but this is the worst case i’ve ever seen.”

bile rises up garroth’s throat, and he’s forced to swallow as he slides down the sterile, white wall of the hospital hall. another choked weep leaves your mother’s lips, but not before the doctor speaks up again.

“but also…” he hesitates. “while her other injuries mysteriously have been healed, she has strange scarring on the upper half of her arms and legs, as well as a scar along her neck. they’re very precise. it's a quality that, in my personal opinion, one would expect from an experienced doctor… and when she arrived, the outfit she was wearing was a patient’s two-piece with the number three on it. we don’t have much other information as of yet.”

“oh god… this is all our… fault…” your mother incoherently babbles. “my baby… what have i done to you…”

“ma’am…?” the doctor sounds uncomfortable, confused. “i don’t…”

“please just leave us be for a moment.” your dad’s voice cracks.

a quick tap on garroth’s shoulder has the boy jumping out of his skin, whipping his head up to see the scolding face of a nurse peering down at him.

“young man… you know you aren’t supposed to be here,” she says, voice firm but eyes at the very least understanding as she keeps her voice at a whisper. “go back to the waiting room. you’ll get to see her eventually. okay?”

garroth swipes a hand over the back of his neck, the cold sweat making him shiver as he stands. his eyes are glassed over as he nods, stumbling back to the stairwell without another word.

tag list: @orinlin @pain-in-the-ashe @youmake1mistake @arienic @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @remiechu @valentique @kalegrinch @izzybella1807

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