Prideful Depression

There was only fire. Screaming and fire and everything was too much. His skin was stuck to the floor in charred globs, the blood still flowing down his lifted arms as though attempting to replace the skin that had been burned off.

Water. He needed water. To soothe the burns and moisten his eyes and cool the rawness of his throat, suffocating him into silence. Another jab of the fire poker into his ribs and his head is thrown back in agony, as though the motion would bring sound to his silent scream. He had no energy left to cry.

“You deserve this.” His torturer... his lover, stood to the side, obscured by the shadows. His eyes glowing in the light of the fire, even though his face was crusted with dried blood. “You are a disgusting piece of filth,” his words accentuated by the slicing of more skin, the shackled man’s chest now in ribbons across the floor. Another silent scream ripped through him, his body seizing as the wounds were cauterized with a lighter. The world had turned white, the pain unbearable. Why couldn’t he just pass out? Why couldn’t he just die? What did he do to deserve this?

He had loved this man. His soft green eyes that were now sharp with hatred. His calloused hands that had once soothed his sorrows now the cause of his pain. This man who he had loved not so long ago…

A gurgle crawled up his throat, a plea of mercy, an attempt to talk.

“Don’t even. You aren't worth the air.” With a final smirk, the charred remnants of the man met their untimely end. The fire poker was driven through his chest, crushing his sternum and piercing his heart. There was one final scream as the man took his last breath, his final words too quiet to hear.

“Pride...”

Depression awoke gasping. His body was slick with sweat, the bed sheets he had so tentatively placed on the bed to keep warm during the night were now stuck to his body and wrapped around his arms. The joyous screams from the children in the hall echoed through his head, he couldn't remember the last time he had screamed, in joy or in pain, he didn't even know if he could.

A gentle melody began to flow from his phone, his alarm that was set to 6:30 am. Depression grabbed a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt before slipping into the shower. The icy droplets providing him some comfort as his adrenaline dropped from the nightmare. Even with the lights in the bathroom off, Depression paid careful attention to where he directed his eyes, not willing to see the scars Pride had given him with that damn fire poker.

Depression had started dating Pride when his sister Joy had discovered she was an empath. Depression had yet to show any abilities but with no family left who wanted him, he joined Joy at Pride’s compound. Pride had everything Depression ever wanted, food, shelter, confidence, power, and a soft spot for quiet blondes. Their romance may have been short lived but to Depression, it had been everything. If only he had known how twisted Pride could really be.

The water had begun to heat up and with the flames from his nightmare still fresh in his mind, Depression turned off the water and jumped out as though the drops had burned him. Dressed, with scars successfully hidden from view under his jacket, Depression made his way out into the hall, reading a report put in by Apathy the previous night and proceeding to change his direction towards Cynical's room. Depression schooled his features, hoping to hide his fear from the incident this morning, before knocking on Cynical's door.

“I apologize for waking you sir, but there is something that requires your attention.” Cynical's small smile was all Depression needed to chase the horrors of the night away. He was safe with the man who rescued him, raised him, loved him. With Cynical he knew everything would be okay.