T.W - S.H, Suicidal thoughts.

I can't breathe.

Third person pov

Sebastian looked around to find Akira staring at the laptop in horror. All colour drained from her face as she stumbled back. He cut the call short and rushed inside.

"No" Akira whispered as she backed into a corner, her eyes still fixed on the laptop.

Screams from the video filled the room and he ran to turn the it off. He shut the video off and turned. She was in the corner, hyperventilating. Slowly and carefully, he approached her.

"Akira?" He calls, voice gentle.

She doesn't respond but rather just stares ahead blankly. He sits down on his knees infront of her as her hands shook and breath came in pants.

"Akira" He places a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

She immediately flinches back, pushing his hand away. A Flashback, Sebastian realises. That's what it is.

"Akira, you're safe." He says, trying to stay calm "he's not here"

"You're safe. You're okay. Everything's fine." He keeps repeating calmly, trying not to increase her panic.

After about five minutes of reassurances, her eyes finally focus on him. It wasn't the usual blackness in her eyes, they were filled with horror. He kept repeating the words that would've helped him during his flashbacks.

A sob finally escapes her mouth as tears start to pool in her horror filled eyes. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. Her body shakes with sobs as the tears finally make it out of her eyes.

She cries. She cries till her head and throat hurt. She cries till she has no more tears left to. And he holds her. Protecting her as she lets out all her pain.

"You're safe... everything's fine...let it out...I love you...it's okay" He whispers affirmations to her.

The shaking of her body stops after a while with only occasional sobs remaining. He looks down to see her curled up into his chest and fast asleep. He carefully picks her up and lays her on his bed, tucking her in. He cleans the tear stains from her face, unable to bear them.

He walks upto his desk and the laptop. The image which sent her into a flashback, covered the screen. His blood boiled to see what Carlos had done to her. Self loathe rose like a tsunami in him. She ended up with this life because of him.

He let Carlos die, get the easy way out. The destructive urges overtook him and he walked into his bathroom. He looked around for it. He eyes made contact with the image in mirror. His image. He hated to look at it, he hated the person he saw, he hated the eyes that stared back.

He opens his usual drawer, hand shaking. He picks up one of the blades and folds back his sleeve on the left hand. White gauze wrapped by doctor during the day peeked from underneath the sleeve. Irritated, he unzips his hoodie and takes it off.

He looks down at himself. Whole left arm and right forearm covered with gauze. The blade tightly held in his hand, he needs it. Quick. He doesn’t want comfort. He wants consequences.

He pulls off the bandages from his right forearm. The harsh actions pulled against the old cuts, not fully healed. It felt better. But not enough. He deserves this. He brings the blade against his arm and pushes it in. A line is created, on a scarred canvas. Blood starts oozing out, the familiar burn feeling like weight being lifted off him.

He knows he should feel pain, but all it felt like was weight lifting off his chest, the noise in his head quitening just for a second. More. He brings the blade up again, reopening the old cuts. His vision starts to blur and he slides down, sitting on the cold floor with his back being supported by the door. A warm trickle runs down his arm, the bite a confirmation of everything he hates about himself.

Finally, gathering all his strength, he gets up and stumbles to the sink. Turning the tap, he places his arm under the running water. His breath quickened at the sting as that odd calmness takes over him. He looks in the mirror. Oh how much he hates that person. It feels good to see him in pain. Good.

He turns around and faces the mirror back first. New cuts and bruises from today lined over the old scars which filled the canvas on his back. The broad whip marks shone under the new bruises which had started to turn green at the edges while remaining dark blue in the middle.

His eyes travelled down to the left side of his lower back where a mirrored version of the word 'failure' stared back at him, almost hidden by trousers. He heart beat quickened as he remembered the pain as it was carved into his skin while they held him down. A shiver ran down his spine and he turned to the door.

He opened the door, his cuts which were oozing blood flashing before his eyes. He eyes land on Akira sleeping in his bed. He had forgotten about her. He turns to the balcony, walking out into the chill of the night.

The weight came back, pulling down on his chest and mind. He can only escape this reality for a few moments before his body becomes used to the pain and it all comes crashing down on him. Still, the occasional sting as the cold air brushed past the fresh cuts felt like a reminder of who he is and what he deserves mixed with an odd steadiness.

He stared down the balcony. It is high enough, he thinks, as he does every day. Just one jump and the source of everyone's pain will be gone. Oh, how much he had wanted to just cut a little deeper, on his wrist instead of the forearm. Everybody would be happier, right?

He takes a deep breath and pushes himself away from the rails. He won't. He can't bear to see the same pain on his family's faces that he saw all those years ago. One attempt had shown him how it would break them. They still love him, somehow.

Eiran loves business and racing. He won't be able to do that once he takes up the position of the Don, if he left. He doesn't want to make Eiran's life hard. He should get to enjoy. Leo's anger might become uncontrollable, destructive for himself and those around him. He has seen that sight once and didn't wish to again.

Kai might isolate himself. Get lost in his grief. He had done that the last time. And mom? She won't be able to handle it. It would be too much pain after all she has gone through. He will stay alive. For them.

He turned to look at Akira, bundled in sheets, through the glass doors. His death won't affect her, right? He hoped it wouldn't. She is the strongest person he knows. It felt like a knife twisting inside of him whenever he thought about all she had to through.

If only he would've protected her better. Or listened to mom that day. Akira would be there bright and happy little sister who would've enjoyed her childhood with her father by her side. A punch landed on his head. His own fist. Another. And another. The throbbing pain on his head that those punches brought was more than welcome.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door. His arm throbbing with the effort as the cuts haven't still completely stopped bleeding. He shuts the door behind him and walks into his bathroom again. There is a bloody mess on the floor and drops on the white sink too along with his blood soaked blade.

With a an exhausted groan, he cleans up his mess. Finally, he places his blade back in its drawer and looks around at the clean bathroom. Still, the metallic tamg of the blood remains. He picks up the air freshner and sprays it around.

He exits the bathroom and picks up his discarded hoodie. The room is soaked in darkness and only sound in it being his steps and Akira's deep breathing. He stares at his hoodie and throws it in a corner, picking up a blanket to wrap around him.

A stabbing pain shot through his left gauze wrapped bicep and the arm as he maneuvered it around him to cover his back and arms. His right forearm throbbed as the blanket settled over it.

Time skip

It was nearly four in the morning when Akira stirred under the sheets. Sebastian didn't notice it as he focused on the documents and work on his laptop. A groan from her made him immediately look around in concern.

She turned to her side, her face contorted in distress and hands tightened in fists. He silently got up from his seat and walked towards her. He saw her sweat stricken face, all color drained from it, as he came to stand beside her.

He hesitantly brings up his arm, tightly wrapped in the blanket, to lightly tap on her shoulder. She turns around in a sudden motion, eyes shut tightly as her body tenses up.

"Akira?" He whispers softly, afraid to startle her.

She doesn't respond. Her lips part to let out a distressed whisper, incoherent to him. He lightly taps her shoulder once again.

"Akira?" He whispers.

"-ex!" She jolts awake, her whisper turning into a shout.

Her breaths come in quick, short pants as hand turns white at knuckles due to her grip on the sheets.

"Are you okay?" His whisper startles her.

She looks up at him in horror, jumping out of the bed to create distance between them. Her hands reach back and pull out her knife as she crouches in a stance. Eyes darting around the room, she realises that this isn't her room.

"Back off" Her voice comes raspy and cold as she stares at the form of a person she can't fully see.

"It's me" He says gently, raising both hands a little while keeping the blanket tight around him.

"Drop your weapon" She commands, not able to make his whole form as something blocked the moonlight from showing his upper body.

He sighs, not making a move. He knows her style. One move and that knife would come flying at him and he would be dead before he even knew what hit him.

"It's me, Sebastian" He speaks up, 'Sebby' dying in the back of his mind.

Utilising the dark, She crossed the bed in one swift stride and placed a knife on his throat before he could move a muscle.

"Move and you're dead" She whispers in his ear in a deadly voice.

She uses her foot to flick on the light switch and slowly lowers the knife from his throat. He turns around carefully, the sharpness in her eyes fading into a dull coldness. His eyes landed on the bruise darkening around her eye, the bandage clinging to her cheekbone. Her lips remained parted, the split already swelling.

"Are you okay?" He asks, concern plastered on his usually blank face as his eyes searched for a hint of answer.

She steps back as he takes a hesitant steps towards her, making him immediately step back. She nods, sliding the knife into its sheath on her lower back. She looked around, trying to not look at him and shake off the nightmare. Her eyes land on the laptop on his desk, making her breath quicken.

"Всё хорошо... дыши." He speaks up, his voice gentle as he saw her breathing turn to sharp, uneven gasps. (It's okay...breathe)

She looks at him, eyes wide and whispers "Как ты...?" (How did you...?)

His eyes soften as the hurt and fear which she tries her hardest to bury fronts for a brief second before being successfully hidden. He knows what she is asking. He knows he has no rights to her past if she hasn't decided to tell him.

"I'm sorry" He whispers, unable to look her in the eye.

"Why?" Her voice shook with anger, and possibly much more, as she glared at him.

He looks up at her, meeting her glares with shame filled eyes. He won't keep anything from her, he decided, he didn't have the right.

"Mom told me about your..nightmares" He meets her eyes with a lowered head "I wanted to find out all who caused you pain and..."

He lowers his eyes to his hands as his voice trails away, leaving her mind racing as she connected the dots. She stared at him disbelief. Carlos killed. He seems to hate him. He believes he hurt her. Pieces of information start connecting in her head.

He looked up at her, expecting her to lash out. He found her staring at him, eyes blank.

"Those people on the streets..." She suddenly whispers, referring to the men who made them fight for food.

She would kill them.

"Killed" He states, searching her face for a sign of disapproval or anger.

She nods. A slight tilt of her head. She didn't feel angry. And she didn't know why. She felt exposed. Vulnerable. Yet that was how one was supposed to feel in front of their boss. That's just how it was.

A cold indifference took over her. With a sudden rush, all that took place before fell asleep flashed before her eyes. crying. That's why her throat feels do scratchy, she registered with dull awareness. He knows all. Her past which she didn't want to ever think about, dug up by him.

A sigh escapes her mouth. Exhaustion taking over as if flood gates had been opened. Through a haze in her mind, she dully registered that she was walking. She was out of the room, her feet moving on their own accord. She noticed her hand raise and open the door.

She saw her room. She saw her bed.

The dark room got darker.

Images whirled around in front of her. People, laughing at her. Carlos, berating her. The metallic tang of blood that followed her wherever she went. The throbbing of a split lip. Heaviness of a black eye.

She felt her body hit something soft.

She was down, blood running down her nose. She was down, too much blood spilt at the assassination. She was down, heaving from the nausea of running for her life. She was down, Rex picked her up.

She wants to go with him.

So she follows.

A.N---

Hey guys:)

What do you think about this chapter?

I hope it didn't trigger anyone.

I don't really know what to say, my mind feels a similar mess to Akira's lol.

If you guys have any suggestions of what you want to see in the future or anything, please let me know.

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