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 Betrayal ( by CharlotteMew - Repost)

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Leon_Mercer
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Join date : 2013-06-29
Age : 23

PostSubject: Betrayal ( by CharlotteMew - Repost)   Sat Aug 03, 2013 8:33 pm

Betrayal

"Gardevoir! Use Psychic!"

I thrust my hands out in front of me, feeling the power building in my chest, and with an almighty push, released a vast amount of telekinetic energy. The Hitmonchan, which was charging towards me brandishing its boxer-like fists, yelped with surprise as the super-effective attack blew it from its feet. After a few seconds of somersaulting uncontrollably through the air, the Punching Pokémon landed with a painful thump several feet away from me. Already weakened by the previous onslaught of attacks, this final blow was crippling and the Hitmonchan stirred slightly, moaned with pain, then slumped to the ground in defeat. With a dissapointed sigh, the boy opposite returned his fainted Pokémon, whispered “You did well, buddy" to the occupied ball, then returned it to his belt.

I allowed the warm feeling of triumph to wash over me before turning around to face my own trainer, smiling hopefully, silently praying for a “Well done" or a “Thanks", anything at all to acknowledge my efforts. However, I didn’t get one. Instead, he brushed past me and strode out to the centre of the battle field, hands deep in his pockets. The opponent mimicked my trainer and he too stepped out, tentatively raising a hand to shake. As they met in the middle, the rival beckoned with his outstretched palm towards my trainer’s pocket, indicating they should shake hands. In spite of his enemy’s courtesy, my trainer simply sniffed with contempt at the hand and bluntly replied, “Money, please." He spat the word ‘please’ with heavy sarcasm and I blushed with embarrassment as the opposing trainer’s face dropped into an offended scowl. Muttering a curse word under his breath, he grudgingly delved around in his pockets for a moment, before reluctantly withdrawing a handful of slightly crumpled notes. Like a starving child would take a loaf of bread, my trainer seized the bundle of money and immediatly spread the notes out in his grasp, counting every single one. I didn’t know where to look, so I simply stared at the ground, aware of the fact my cheeks were burning and most likely a beetroot red.

Once he was satisfyed, my trainer pocketed his winnings and, without thanking nor even acknowledging his opponent, sauntered away, paying no attention to the disgusted glare of his former challenger. “Gardevoir!" He called sharply behind him, realising I hadn’t followed him as he ambled away, “Catch up, or it’s back in the Poké Ball!" I shuddered with fear and, lifting up my delicate white dress to avoid dirtying it, scurried after my trainer. Anything but the Poké Ball.

Sadly, my trainer never used to be like this. He was the complete opposite, in fact. Once upon a time, he was a kind, quiet young boy, putting his Pokémons’ needs before his own and was, in general, a caring, generous person. Of course, I still loved him regardless of his dramatic personality change. I’m an empathetic Pokémon, and understand that human beings mature and experience things that change their opinions and such. Unfortunately, my trainer didn’t develop into the thoughtful, sensitive young man I expected him to mature into. Instead, he morphed into an avaricious, materialistic and, quite frankly, a rather uncouth person. Though he’s a man of few words, the very little speech he had to offer was far from sophisticated. However, he was my trainer and I was his Pokémon and no matter how unrefined he became, I would always be devoted to him and be prepared to give my life in order to keep him alive. No matter how drastically he changed, I would always love him more than a mother loves her own child, because deep down, under that hard exterior, I can still see elements of that sweet young boy who befriended me as a little Ralts on Route 102.

When he was first introduced to the concept of Pokémon battles, my trainer adored them. He would continually challenge fellow trainers and whenever he won, would punch the air enthusically and, whenever he was unlucky to lose, would fairly shake the opponent’s hand, thanking them for the battle. Of course you’re all aware of prize money; a small payment to reward the victorious trainer for defeating their opponent. Initially, with the weaker trainers, my trainer only earned enough for the basics to keep us alive such as food, water, medicenes and shelter. He was such a considerate boy, sometimes going hungry if he was tight on money and could only afford either food for himself or a much-needed medicene product for one of Pokémon team members.

However, once we became stronger and could defeat more powerful trainers, he began to aquire more and more money. Soon, he began to buy items not really nessessary for a Pokémon journey, such as expensive, branded clothing. In time, the novelty of Pokémon battles wore off and the only reason my trainer continued to challenge trainers was to earn a steady income of money to fund his purchases, which were slowly increasing in expense. What started with labelled outfits ended with an astronomically priced apartment in the nicest area of Petalburg City, his home town. Well, I certainly didn’t have an issue living in a luxury place we could call home, it certainly beat sleeping on Pokémon Center camp beds. Nonetheless, I feel my trainer could have put the money to better use. For example, when the Winter season arrived, the relentless rain and snow had disatrous effects of poor Aggron’s hide. Surprisingly, Aggron are a rather difficult species to mantain. You see, due to their entire bodies being protected by a thick armour of metal, they are prone to becoming rusted from prolonged contact with water. When this rust builds up, it must be professionally removed or else the Pokémon’s battling ability is hindered as the rust generally accumulates around joints. Unfortunately, due to the price needed to purchase the expensive apartment, my trainer had little money available afterwards to fund Aggron’s 6-monthly rust removal, so the poor guy had to suffer with a rusted armour for many months to follow.

As this new, insatiable appetite for money developed, my trainer and I’s friendship gradually deteriorated. Everything became mortgages, bills, the newest fashion trends and the latest electronic gadgets. No longer did we sit up late at night confiding in each other, talking for hours on end. No longer did we have any fun. All my life consisted of was following my trainer around like a lost puppy, utilising my strength when needed and otherwise just watching him long for more and more physical things of no value but to entertain for a few weeks.

And all I could do was watch while the materialistic world consumed him, brainwashed him and warped him into a voracious monser.

On our travels, I often received sympathy and sometimes criticism from other Pokémon. They would observe how I was treated and demand why I don’t defend myself, run away and build a new life, maybe even find a kinder, more responsible trainer. However, I couldn’t bring myself to leave my trainer, I had become far too attached to him to even consider life without him. As aforementioned, I loved my trainer far too much and my job, whether he liked it or not, was to defend him with my life. Through thick or thin, I would be there, guarding over him.



We were currently walking down a scenic path; I inhaled the fresh air and enjoyed the picturesque views. In the grass, I watched Zigzagoon and Poochyena tumble about, growling playfully and in the trees I admired the Taillow preening their feathers and cooing softly.

The Route was peacefully quiet, save for the sound of nature all around us. My trainer, taking on his usual stance of shoving his hands deep in his pockets, had a neutral expression, seemingly caring little for the beauty around him. I stepped daintily beside him and took his arm in mine, trying to make telepathic conversation. “Isn’t it beautiful, master?" I asked, summoning the warmest smile I could muster.
"Mmm." He replied bluntly, pulling his arm away from mine, “Watch that jacket, it’s new." I sighed with dejection and tears prickled my eyes, didn’t my trainer love me anymore?
"Master?" I asked nervously, stepping tentaively back beside him.
"Mmm?" He grunted in reply; it was clear he had no desire to speak to me.
"Do…do you still love me, master?" I continued, realising my voice was beginning to waver and my throat tightened.
"Yeah, why?" He answered, his voice dull and lacking emotion. Silent tears slithered down my cheeks but I promptly removed them before they were noticed.
"No reason, master…" I mumbled, hoping he would realise my unusually quiet demeanor and question me so I could tell him how I really felt, but he didn’t. Instead he continued to stride down the path, eyes locked firmly on the horizon, that same indifferent look in his eyes.

"No! Give him back!"

"Muuuud! Mudkiiip!"

"Hand it over, stupid brat!"

"Kiiiiiip!"

I was alert immediatly, somebody was in trouble! “Master, somebody needs help!" I cried urgently, hurrying past him to locate the source of the voices. I heard him grunt nonchalantly in reply, but to be honest I couldn’t care less for his disinterest in the situation right now. Rushing around the corner, I discovered a small pond where what appeared to be a tug-of-war match was taking place. A middle-aged, slightly overweight man was wrestling with a young boy, no older than 13. The ‘rope’ was squealing Mudkip.

"Just hand over the Pokémon you stubborn imbecile!" the man grunted, tugging at the little blue Pokémon. It squirmed and let off another pained cry. The boy shouted helplessly, clearly losing the battle and becoming closer and closer to having his Pokémon taken by this strange man. Deciding to take action, I shot forward, aiming a Confusion at the man; it blasted him with more impact than I hoped. Flying backwards, he missed the pond by mere inches.

The boy hugged his Mudkip thankfully, murmuring soothingly to the distressed Pokémon. The Mudkip in turn squealed with relief and nuzzled his trainer’s face lovingly. I smiled at the unconditional bond between the two, feeling a slight pang of envy. “Thank you." He whispered to me, before bolting from the scene just as the man began to groan and struggle to his feet. I began to feel nervous as he stood and brushed the dust from his already dirty outfit and strode towards me. He was a stout man, taller than I initially thought and appraoching fast. I considering fleeing or firing another psychic attack to keep him at bay, but as he grew closer, he didn’t appear to be angry nor threatening; just intrigued. I eyed him cautiously as he stopped a few feet away from me, looking me up and down with strange curiosity. On closer inspection, the man was truely revolting. He was dressed in filthy jeans and an even more disgusting t-shirt, with prominant persiration stains on his underarms. I felt vomit rise in my throat as I smelt the repugnant odour of stale sweat, alcohol and tobacco. He looked as if he hadn’t showered in weeks, his greasy blonde hair sticking to his forehead and his entire face covered in a shiny film of sweat.

"Hmm, nice. Very nice indeed. A fantastic specimen of Gardevoir, powerful too. That was a Confusion, correct? Very, very nice…" He muttered to himself as he began to circle me. Judging by how he was talking about me, I began to assume he was some pervert, so I began to prepare a slightly more powerful psychic attack to get him to back off. Before I could complete it, though, I heard a cough behind me and turned to find my trainer stood there, arms folded and a stern look crossing his usually neutral face. I sighed with releif and hurried to his side, hoping he would give the creep a piece of his mind and we could be on our way. Much to my dismay, my trainer showed slight interest in the disgusting man and calmly asked, “Is there a problem, sir?"

The man gave a nervous, forced chuckle and strode forward, outstretching his arm and over-enthusiastically shaking my trainer’s hand. My trainer made no effort to return the gesture and instead wrinkled his nose in silent revulsion at the man’s offending body odour.

"Haha, where are my manners? My name is Rick Houghton! Pleasure to meet you! And you are?"

"Brent." My trainer replied shortly, clearly regretting even trying to make conversation with this weird man.

"I assume this is your Gardevoir, yes? Well, I must say she is a fine Gardevoir indeed!"

"Great, what’s your point?" Anger was beginning to creep into my trainer’s voice and Rick scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. His eyes flicked left and right, struggling for something to say. Then, his eyes rested on my trainer’s expensive clothing and his face lit up.

"Say, that’s some pretty nice clothing you have there. Must have cost you lot!"

"Yeah."

"How does a guy like you run into so much money?"

"Battling."

"I see. Well, I know this is sudden, but I’m going to propose something to you which is guaranteed to get you at least double what you own this very moment! Interested?"

My trainer arched an eyebrow, clearly surprised at this offer.

"Master, don’t do it!" I cried desparatly to him telepathically, “I don’t like him. Every part of him is giving off dodgey vibes."

"It wouldn’t hurt to listen to the guy." He replied, then strode forward, “Okay then, talk." He said to Rick. Rick beamed, revealing a set of crooked yellow teeth. Not that his appearance could get any more vile.

"Excellent! Now, here’s the deal-" He stopped short, looked up and realised I was listening in to the conversation, “A little privacy, please?" He asked, shooing me away with his hand. I folded my arms and skulked away, deciding to entertain myself by observing the stunning nature making the pond their home. Lotad floated lazily in the afternoon sun, bathing their lilypad-like backs in the heat. Surskit darted swiftly across the water’s still surface, creating little ripples on the otherwise motionless pond. Occasionally, the bright red face of a Magikarp would rise to the surface of the water, take a gulp of air and disappear into the depths of the pool. After watching the Pokémon go about their buisiness for a few minutes, I heard a shout from my trainer and strolled back over to where him and Rick were stood. As I approached them, Rick had a victorious grin on his face which widened the closer I got to them, whereas my trainer had his usual cool, collected posture, with the exception of what look like the tiniest fraction of a smile embedded in his features.

Tilting my head, I tried telepathically asking Brent what was happening, but he didn’t even realise I was trying to contact him. In my efforts to talk to him, I was startled when I felt two beefy, sweaty hands grasp my shoulders and begin taking me away.

"Wait, wha- what’s happening? Hey! Get your filthy mits off me!"

Of course Rick wouldn’t understand my insults and Brent wouldn’t understand my pleas for help, I kicked and struggled, trying to break free from the man’s grip. Right, that’s it! I began forming a ball of psychic energy; surely this would loosen his tight grasp.

"No."

My ball of psychic immediately died as Brent lowered my hands. I opened my mouth to protest but his stern glare silenced me. What is happening? Why is this man taking me away from my trainer!? My red eyes begged Brent’s brown for an answer. For a moment, he opened and closed his lips, trying to find the right words to say. Eventually, he spoke up.
"This man, Rick here, has offered to take you to a nice new home. You will be happier there, and of course I couldn’t say no to the huge sum of money I was offered!"

That was it. The money. My body slumped and my stomach twisted with hurt and disappointment. My trainer, the person I loved and cared for, gave me away for money. If this was where he wanted me to be, then so be it. I allowed Rick to carry my limp body away; the last I saw of Brent was him gazing at the sky, obviously contemplating what to spend his recent earnings on.

My head was clouded with questions, the biggest one being: where was I going? The sun was down and the velvety black sky dotted with tiny stars when we approached what I believed to be my new home. It was a tall, intimidating silhouette in the night sky; I shuddered at the thought of what horrors would be awaiting me. A heavy, mahogany door was unlocked and I was tossed carelessly inside. I immediately pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged myself on the floor, cold and afraid. A light was switched on, revealing the interior: Crimson carpets with matching walls and mahogany furniture. The red theme unsettled me; I hoped we wouldn’t be in this room for long. My wish came true, but not in the way I imagined.

Rick locked his fingers around my wrist like an iron band and led the way through a labyrinth of hallways and corridors. We eventually came to a steel door which he creaked open; I was hit with a chilling draft and inhuman sounds. Howls, squeals, grunts and growls all merged together into one unearthly uproar. I covered my ears in a pathetic attempt to block out the commotion but I found myself being dragged into the room.

Clinging to the metal doorframe, I tried as hard as I could to avoid being locked in this horrifying room, but then, I remembered Brent. He wanted me here. This is how he wanted me to live. Automatically, my fingers were released from the frame and I was carried through the room. Thankfully, the lights were out so I didn’t have to witness the source of the pained cries. I screwed my eyes shut just in case I got a glimpse of anything.

I heard another creak and, before I could respond, I was thrown onto an ice cold, metal floor. The door slammed shut and I heard the clunk of a lock. I decided to risk opening one eye. I was in a cage.

A large, steel cage. The cold floor was left bare with no sign of bedding anywhere and in the corner was a small bowl of stale water, full of dead, floating insects. The only source of light was an old, flickering lightbulb, dangling from a chain, which shone a dull spotlight on me. I wrapped my arms around my legs and curled up on the floor, shivering violently. My eyes welled up and warm, salty tears spurted down my cheeks as I questioned why Brent betrayed me in such a way. It was my duty to protect him, to defend him from harm. I loved him more than anything in the universe yet he discarded my affection like it was trash to him.

The cries around me eventually subdued to whimpers and the odd squeal. I was now curious as to what was around me, but the pathetic light bulb in my cage barely lit the interior. My stomach growled loudly, I clutched it and wondered when I would be fed. If I ever did get fed that was. I slowly closed my eyes and tried to sleep but nightmares about Brent and Rick haunted me until I was in a delirious state, moaning tiredly to myself, hungry and afraid.

What felt like many hours later, something hard was thrown at my head. I sat up immediately, searching around for the source of it. Looking down, I noticed it was a slice of stale bread. I realised this was probably the best meals were going to get, so I grudgingly forced the bread down, though it barely put a halt to the gnawing feeling in my stomach. Lying back down, I stared at the ceiling until fatigue got the better of me and I fell into a deep slumber.

I was instantly awoken by the sound of voices. Human voices. I arose and rubbed my eyes, I had managed to sleep fitfully for a little while. I stood up and surveyed around me, outside my cage men of all shapes and sizes were talking loudly, most holding bottles of alcohol and some smoking cigarettes. Towards the back I spotted Rick edging around the crowd, collecting wads of money from them, a greedy look of satisfaction etched into his face.

I shifted my gaze to the cage door; a man was struggling to unlock it as he was kitted out in a thick, padded suit. He fumbled about with the key and became increasingly flustered as the crowd grumbled with impatience. Eventually, he unlocked it and the door swung open ominously. The crowd was promptly silenced, each and every one of the men had their eyes firmly locked on me. What exactly was going on here?

The man shuffled inside, in his hand he held a chunky chain which he tugged. When the creature attached to the chain entered, I felt the stale bread rise in my stomach.

The creature was a Raticate, though it was barely recognisable as one. Its fur was bloodcaked and missing in places and its ears and tail were mangled beyond belief. It rasped loudly as it struggled to breath properly due to its skeletal figure. Its waist had a heavy metal band clamped around it to keep the chain intact.

The man with the padded suit nervously reached forward and hastily un-clamped the metal band and chain. The Raticate, realising it was free, hissed loudly and pounced on the man, tearing viciously at the suit. He quickly reached up and yanked the Raticate from his suit, throwing it further into my cage and slamming the cage door behind him without looking back.

The Raticate circled my cage, eyeing me up suspiciously as it glared at me with eyes filled with hunger and hate. I tried to keep my distance, but found myself being backed into a corner. I was trapped. Slowly and threateningly, the Raticate approached me, snarling and licking the hardened blood around its lips to make them moist. The crowd began to mutter and then jeer as the rat charged towards me, teeth bared and claws retracted. I quickly raised my arms out in front of me in an act of defence but they were no match for the Raticate’s lust for food.

Its jagged teeth tore savagely at my wrists and I shrieked, never before had I experienced such pain. The force of the Pokémon colliding into me caused me to collapse and tumble onto my back; I gasped as the sudden fall winded me. The Raticate lost interest in my arms and moved onto my legs; its fangs clamped around one and tugged violently in an attempt to yank it off. Squealing and squirming, my pain was their pleasure. The mens’ cheers were louder than my screams and pleas for help. I tried pathetically to throw the Pokémon off me, just for a moment, but its desparation and hunger compelled it fight back more violently. It grunted with delight as it fed from my flesh and drank the masses of blood that was shed.

After a long, torturous attack, the Raticate seemed satisfied and backed away, licking the fresh blood from its fur. It trotted away, just in time for the padded suit man, who restrained the Pokémon with the chain once again and dragged it out of my cage. The crowds of men dwindled and I was soon alone.

I lay there, unbearable pain crippling my body beyond movement, the cage floors were splattered with puddles of my own blood and flesh. Surprisingly, I was still alive. I forced my eyes open to check the damage to my body. It was horrifying, truly horrifying.

My legs, my once beautiful and slender legs, were nearly completely stripped of skin, some deeper wounds revealed bone. My graceful arms were twisted and in a similar state to my legs and my ball gown-like skirt, which was always envied by female Pokémon, was in tatters. The Raticate’s fangs had destroyed me beyond repair; I would never have my ballerina body ever again.

Despite this, I couldn’t help but feel pity for the Pokémon. It had obviously once been happy and free, but then been captured and trapped in this place. I wasn’t surprised it attacked me so savagely; it probably hadn’t seen anything remotely edible in Arceus knows how long.

Using my psychic powers, I lifted some of the discarded pieces of flesh and grafted it back onto the particularly deep wounds; I would do the best I could to heal myself. But little did I know my efforts would be futile.

As the hours turned into days and days turned into weeks, I soon learned that Rick had a sick, illegal business going on. He captured or purchased Pokémon where ever he went and locked them in cages like my own and once they were starved of food, pit them against each other for entertainment. It was sick, twisted and I couldn’t comprehend why any sane human would become involved with such a disgusting thing.

Since I was the newest and probably healthiest Pokémon here, I was the most popular Pokémon to partake in fights. The fact I never fought back probably contributed to why I was used so often, men would howl with laughter as I became more and more injured. Despite this, I would never fight back. I would never dream of hurting these poor, scarred souls. Rick’s buisiness may have taken my dignity and appearance, but I won’t let him take my compassionate nature. As long as I live, I won’t give him the satisfaction of watching me hurt another Pokémon.

Unfortunately, the majority of the Pokémon Rick captured, he successfully turned them into killing machines. Luckily, not all Pokémon were as keen to fight as the Raticate. Some would stare sadly into my eyes and apologise for having to hurt me, other Pokémon refused point blank to attack and therefore would be dragged back out again and be punished in a way I prefer not to think about. However, other Pokémon weren’t so kind. They would eat anything that moved if they got the chance and I was no exception. I would try my best to keep a safe distance from this group of Pokémon, even if it did look cowardly.

—-

I have been here for a while now, the novelty of me has worn off and I have gone a few days without fighting which has allowed time for my pulverised skin to recover, though I doubt it will be back to its healthy green lustre.

If you saw me now and I told you I was a Gardevoir, you would laugh and tell me not to say such things. Or perhaps you would have already run a mile in terror of me. One of my arms is completely mangled and barely recognisable, the best way to describe it would be a lumpy stick of red flesh, with the odd shred of green skin; I can hardly stand on my legs, they haven’t suffered quite much as my poor arm but there are pieces of skin torn away I know quite well will never grow back. One of my eyes has been clawed out completely, a particularly feisty Purugly feasted upon it whilst I wailed in agony; the horn on my chest had been snapped in two, where the other half is I’ll never know but all I have left is a jagged red shard jutting out of me; my once sleek green hair is stained crimson after being splattered with my own blood so many times and my elegant ballroom gown is shredded and, like my hair, is dyed red.

I somehow survived on bread and drinking the stale water provided but my once robust physique is now a skeletal, ghost-like figure. My life and everything I love has been cruelly snatched away from me, all thanks to one, selfish person…Brent.

The name, even the name Brent sends waves of anger pulsating through my body. I once loved him. I once loved him more than anything. I thought the world of him. I adored him like a mother loves her own child. I promised to love and protect him forever and this is my reward. My kindness was thrown back at me; I even endured this hell because I believed this is how he wanted me to live. My beauty, my body, my dignity, destroyed.

Tonight is when it stops. This hell, everything, stops. Brent is going to pay, he will regret the agony he put me through just for his own self centered greed. He will regret it…he will regret it all…
I struggled to my feet and hobbled over to the bars of my cage; I could have carried this out weeks ago, when I was healthier, but my devotion to Brent prevented me from doing so.

I slowly raised my arms, struggling with the mangled one, and concentrated on the bars. Slowly but surely, they bent apart, creating a gap with just enough space to allow me to slip through. I worked my way around the multiple cages; Pokémon rattled the bars urgently, requesting that I released them too. I ignored them. As much as I would like to have helped them, I had no time to spare tonight. I drifted to the end of the room, opened the steel door and worked my way around the many hallways and corridors with ease; I never forgot the route Rick took on the night I was taken from Brent.

Soon, I reached the hallway with the crimson carpet, walls and mahogany furniture. Nobody was around so I assumed Rick was sleeping soundly, oblivious to the fact one of his victims was escaping. I unlocked the heavy door and pushed it open, for once in what felt like years, I breathed in the cool night air. I was free.

Floating ghost like into the night, I close my eye and try to remember where Brent lives; mapping out a route in my mind. Once I have memorised everything, I begin to navigate my way to his dwelling.

I drifted over hills, through trees and past houses until I stop at the door of a house in Petalburg City. This is the place, I know it is. I try the door, but it is obviously locked, not a problem, I am a psychic Pokémon after all. Using my power, I hear the lock click and the door opens with ease. I quietly float inside.

The house is just as I remembered it to be, apart from the odd furniture change here and there. I found the stairs in the dark, silently creeping upwards, not making a single noise. At the top, I navigated my way down the pitch black landing up to Brent’s bedroom door. Resting my hand on the handle, I pressed it downwards, opened the door and stepped inside.

There he was, laid in bed, his form slowly rising and falling as he breathed steadily. Little did he know the Pokémon he betrayed, the Pokémon he abandoned, was stood right there in his room. Slowly, I approached his bed and watched over him, blind rage began to bubble deep within me and again I looked down at my destroyed body. This was ALL because of that selfish, greedy idiot. This was his entire fault.

Raising my hands up, I mustered up as much psychic power as I could manage, aiming it at his peaceful body. He was thrown from his bed, tossed onto the floor along with his duvet and pillows.
"Wha- huh? Arghh…" He hadn’t realised I was here yet. He moaned groggily on the floor, clutching the side he had landed on. It was then he decided to look up, never before have I seen such a look of terror and utter disgust.

"Ga- GARDEVOIR!? I-is that YOU!?"

He scrambled to his feet, tripping in his act of blind panic. I advanced upon him, raising my hands up once again. Before he could scream for help, I lifted him up by his throat with an invisible hand. A sick smile spread across my face as I listened to his desperate choking, he needed to breathe. Tightening my fist, I watched intently as his eyes began to roll into the back of his head, his arms and legs flailing about uselessly like a Magikarp. He couldn’t die this quickly. There wasn’t enough blood. There wasn’t enough suffering!

I opened my fist and he fell to the floor with a painful thump. He immediately rolled onto his knees and hacked loudly, in his fit of coughing and spluttering he tried to talk to me but I couldn’t comprehend what he was trying to say, nor was I interested in his useless words.

I pulled back my least damaged arm and flung it back forward, a fist of psychic energy punched a clean hole through Brent’s arm. He wailed and shrieked like a wild animal, clutching his afflicted limb. Blood…so much blood. It squirted everywhere; I must have burst an artery. It splattered against my tattered gown, the warm feel of it felt fantastic. His screams of agony were music to my ears.

I picked him up once again, this time I took his healthy arm and twisted it slowly backwards. More screams of pain. He begged me to stop, tears trickled down his cheeks and his face was twisted in a look of complete suffering. But I wasn’t finished yet, this was nothing compared to what I endured for him.

I continued to bend his arm backwards until I heard a satisfying crack which was accompanied by ear splitting howls of distress. I thrust my arms upwards and he was flung against the ceiling, he coughed loudly from the impact and blood rained down on me. Throwing back my head, I laughed. I laughed and I laughed longer than I have done for what feels like years.

I eventually calmed down and composed myself. Back to business.

I flung my arms about in random directions, Brent going with them, slamming off each and every wall in his room. Once I was happy I had broken the majority of his bones, I brought him down so he was face to face with me. His yells of pain had now become whimpers of anguish and terror. I grinned at him wickedly, Brent was no longer recognisable.

His face had been smashed so many times it was lumpy and in-human looking; his arms and legs were twisted in all directions, in some places bones were protruding from his skin and vast amounts of blood were still dripping from his limp body.

I noticed his eyelids flicker slightly before closing again. Damn, he’s still alive. He was mumbling something under his breath, or maybe it was the fact his jaw hung loosely that he was talking quietly. I raised him slightly higher into the air and with a quick flick of the wrist, his neck was snapped. I allowed him to fall to the ground and faintly heard the words “I’m sorry" before Brent was no more.

I stood there for a moment, frozen. My eye flicked around the room, examining the damage I had caused. Furniture broken and knocked over, the walls splattered with fresh blood which continued to trickle down and last of all, the dead body which lay upon the floor.

My legs wobbled, struggling to hold my already fragile body. I found myself falling to my knees; I had over exerted myself beyond what I was capable of.

I collapsed, no longer having the energy to stand or kneel.

I looked into the eyes of Brent; we were laid side by side.

"I loved you…"

He stared back at me blankly, eyes glazed and distant.

"I gave you my heart…"

I could feel the last of my energy slipping…slowly slipping.

"And you threw it away…"

My eye gently closed.

"Why…"

It was gone…the last ounce of my life slipped away…

"Good…bye…"

…I was no more…
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Betrayal ( by CharlotteMew - Repost)
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