Chapter Five

Viktor's face snapped to the side, his face insinuated a scarlet hue - the outline of a palm prominent on his cheek. Azyriah stared at him with nothing but malice in his hazel eyes. He wanted to murder Viktor. If not able to publicly, then privately. He'd done more to hurt and harm Jordeyn, than protect her. And he wanted to destroy Viktor for it. He rubbed the middle line of his palm with the pad of his thumb, soothing the stinging pain that was beginning to prick at his nerves.

"You're a bitch."

Those were Viktor's final words before his fist slammed into Azyriah's jaw, a crack emitting throughout the cafeteria. He stumbled back into the wall, his head ricocheting off the wall leaving a smear of red on the bricks behind him as he slumped to his knees. Viktor dragged him to a semi-standing position by the front of his collar and spit in his face: "lay a hand on me one more time. I fucking dare you. See what'll happen to you, Jordeyn, and everyone else you care about."

"Keep your filthy, grimy hands off of her. She doesn't deserve any of this." Blood trickled out of the corner of his lips and slowly coursed down the side of his chin.

"She might not … but you certainly do." He pulled his arm back, Azyriah closing his eyes preparing him for the blowing impact, when instead, the grip on his collar loosened and gentle, comforting hands laid him on his side caressing his hair and holding an ice pack to the small gash that was bleeding profusely on the back.

"Sh, it's okay … I got you. You're okay."

His vision came into focus, and a sharp face framed by black sweeping hair hung over him, tears sliding down her pale cheeks dotting his shirt with stains made of tears. He sat up, all the blood rushing out of his head acquiesce to the stars kissing the back of his eyes. He stumbled to his feet, gripping tables and chairs as he wavered past the lowerclassmen. He slammed the side of his body against the door, putting every ounce of weight he had in his body to open it.

Tears misted over his eyes, threatening to release from their cage and tear him apart. The door crashed open, slamming against the wall behind it, leaving a dent: causing the two freshmen to jump at the clashing. They ran out in fright not stealing a look back in the fear of him lashing out.

He felt his chest crack - his heart break - and the pain of terrorizing two children made his throat tighten, his head pound, and his vision to drift in and out of pitch black and vibrant, blurred colors. He fell to his knees, gripping the handle with everything he had. The tears cascaded eating at his mind and body. He wanted to give up: on everyone and everything. He wanted the constant pain he felt everyday when he checked in on his friends making sure that they were okay and not receiving the same treatment to end. He knew he deserved better, but the four he was friends with were his family. From what he knew, his parents are dead. They could've abandoned him, but he didn't want to believe that statement based on no evidence. He believed - wanted - them dead to spare him the pain of thinking that he wasn't wanted or loved by his parents. He had no brothers, no sister, aunts, uncles, or grandparents. He had no one, besides the ones he was with now.

A sparring knock startled him from his thoughts, his breathing increasing and becoming absurdly uneven. "Az … Az, please. I know you're in there. I'm sorry if I hurt you worse than you already were, and I'm sorry that Viktor is being a little bitch right now. Just please, come out." Her voice was thick and dry. He could tell she was crying and screaming. He hoped and prayed it was at Viktor, but he couldn't and didn't want to think about him. Now, or ever again in the very near and far future.

The hem of his sleeve was soaked with tears, his eyes were red and swollen and bleeding has not ceased. He fumbled with the lock and swung the door open from where he lay on his die, staring at the rows of stalls.

"Az, you need to get up. C'mon, please? You need to."

A shake of his head was all he could muster. No further answer was given. He felt her cool hands sweep the hair that was matted with sweat away from his face - just like he'd done for her a few years back. He closed his eyes - his body willing him to sleep - but the sound of her talking comforted him in a way that wouldn't let him. He wanted to hear every word she said and not miss even the slightest space between the words. But he couldn't make any of them out. They were a slur and string of nonsense that made his head burn with discomfort. He willed himself not to yell and snap at her to shut her mouth, because he knew deep down she wanted to help him. And he wanted to help her, but his body was renouncing anything his brain was willing him to do. He could feel her shift beside him, lifting his head and setting it softly on her lap, combing his hair away from where it lay.

"Jorde, you're going to stain your pants … I'm fine laying here. On the floor. In the bathroom. I know how much you-" A sharp pain in his neck caught his breath and stole his next words from his lips. His eyes blew wide open and his mouth gaped. His palms dug into his eyes and rubbed his temple in an attempt to lull the pain. Nothing worked.

"I don't care about my pants, Az. I care that you're okay. I spoke with Viktor and yeah, he's pissed. But he knows he was in the wrong. But I'm not going to lie about me running from him and his attempts to catch me and beat the living shit out of me. She shifted and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, laying her hand over the gash on his head and moving it to her shoulder. She could feel him trembling beneath her touch and she hurt because of it. She hurt that she couldn't do more to help him after everything he'd done for her in the past and present. He'd done everything he could for her whether it was homework or making sure she had somewhere warm and comforting to sleep. She had no way to pay him back and now all she could offer was her embrace and shoulder.

"Jordeyn Rosaline Matthews, where the hell are you." Viktor's voice was ragged and dry with rage.

"Fuck." Her heart pounded against her rib cage and a tremor coursed through every nerve in her body. She felt his hands wrap around her waist pulling her close almost as if he was able to protect her from his spot on the floor, but she knew it was a situation in which she should be protecting him. She didn't hear anything and retired to leaning her head against the wall, closing her eyes and caressing Azyriah's hair as she felt his erratic breathing cease into something closer to normal.

A ruthless pounding jolted the two out of their trance, both jumping at the sound and sight of his tall, lean frame gripping the handle of the door like a vice: knuckles white, face red, and jaw clenched.

"Get up. Now. Leave him here." His eyes darted between the two entangled on the floor: Jordeyn's arms around his shoulders and head, and Azyriah's arms around her waist and neck.

She pressed herself as far as possible against the wall and away from him as she could while Azyriah subtly crawled in front of her to shield her from the threat in front of them.

"Absolutely not." Her voice was hoarse. She despised that she sounded so submissive to him. She was mortified, but there wasn't anything she could do to change it.

"Jordeyn, it's alright. You don't have to." Azyriah pulled himself up to a sitting position, pulling her head into the nape of his neck, pressing his lips to her temple and willed her to calm herself. He wanted her to realize that even if he was hurt by Viktor, she wouldn't have to worry. But he knew that wasn't true. He knew Viktor would do anything he could - whether that be violence, blackmailing, or bribing - to be their superior.

He craved power. Whether it be over a large group of people or a singular being, he craved it. It's what kept him awake and breathing. It's what kept him alive and it's what allowed him to sleep peacefully at night. Wherever he was, no matter the situation, power and dominance would always be the first, last, and only thing he thought about, ate, drank, and breathed. But the thing he hated more than not having power, was people denying the power he demanded from them.

His lips parted slightly and a dangerous snicker left his chords. He stalked towards the pair as if they were his prey, and crouched leaning his elbows forward on his knees. He moved a strand of hair that had fallen from her braid behind her ear and gripped her chin with force. "I said now, Jordeyn. So get up."

She didn't.

Instead, she stayed where she was, hugging Azyriah closer to her as he shifted his head up at an angle to face her somewhat completely. His eyes read worry and his grip tightened un-instinctually.

"Jordeyn c'mon. You can't stay with him. He slapped me so of course I had to defend myself. Now come with me, where it's safe."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at the absurd words he had spoken. "Defend yourself? You truly believe that slamming him against the wall, cracking his head open, and beating the living shit out of him defense? It was a fucking slap, Viktor, and right now, because of you, he can't even sit up straight, open his eyes, or speak because of you. You talked shit about him, his family and I, so he had a right to slap your 'pretty' face. And don't think for one moment that I think you're safe to stay with. You're anything but safe and it's obvious. You choose violence over words whenever you don't get what you want, and that shows immaturity. If you think that it'll get you what you want in the future, please reconsider your choices, because right now I can tell you with one-hundred and ten percent confidence that you'll get the janitorial job at the Academy instead of a job with the guard." Azyriah stared at her in shock, but she took no notice towards him as she scanned Viktor, who was still crouched in front of her and even angrier than he was before. He didn't like this new version of Jordeyn: the version that was defensive of her friends, the version that didn't cower at anyone's words, and the version that stood up for what she believed in. He preferred for her to be cowardly than strong and outspoken, because that's how you get yourself killed in Pento.

He knew that better than anyone. He'd been abused countless times by the guard for speaking about what he thought was right. What he thought was best for Pento, what he thought was best for the community, and what he thought was best for the society that he loved and lived in every day.

"Shut it. You have zero idea about what you're talking about. You can get killed for speaking like this. Now, I know that I'm a nobody: I don't rule anyone and I'm no one's superior - including yours - but trust me when I say that you can't speak like this unless you're asking to be killed."

"Viktor I understand you're trying to protect me. I appreciate it, but I can defend myself. I have Jay, Azyriah, Cayden, and Blayne. Now, with you, I'm not even sure. You appear determined to put everyone around you down in order to make yourself look big and strong and dominant and frankly, it's annoying. You need to open your eyes and notice that not everyone needs your protection, but rather keep you as one of their enemies."

"Is that what you'd like … truly? To be one of my enemies, because I can guarantee you that it will be the worst desire you have in your life. No mercy is all I'll say, but if you really want to be one of my enemies, then your wish is my command." And with that, he shoved Azyriah to the side earning a throaty groan of pain, picked Jordeyn up by her collar, and dragged her behind him to the hallway. From left and right, students turned their heads in confusion and stared at them in disbelief: the image of Viktor dragging Jordeyn like a rag doll. She grappled at his wrists in desperate attempts to gasp for air.

"Viktor … let go." She clawed and scraped, grappled and shoved at his arm, begging him to let her go. He wouldn't though. He pushed her against the wall and drew his arm back, slamming his palm against the pit of her stomach. Her eyes blew open and her mouth gaped as every ounce of air raced from her lungs. She doubled in half, arm around her stomach, and her hand bracing herself against Viktor's shoulder.

Viktor stayed where he was; back straight, shoulders laxed, and arms hooked under Jordeyn's keeping her on her feet. He didn't feel immediate regret and guilt for hurting her - it was her decision to keep him as a friend or enemy, and she had chosen the latter - but he did feel a twinge of pain in his chest. He had meant to strike, just not as hard as he did. He knew it was wrong to lay his hands on anyone. The only way he could help her in an essence now, was to keep her on her feet as she bent there gasping for air and draping herself over his arm for support.

"What the hell?" Her words were broken and ragged breathing spaced her words unevenly. She pushed herself off of him and clutched a fist to her heart. She stared up at him from beneath her lashes and sweat trickled down her temple and the side of her face.

"You wanted me as an enemy. So allow me to force you to make me it." His voice was emotionless. There was no remorse in it and she broke. She had wished he at least felt some form of guilt or dread for what he had done, but even now, she could see he couldn't give less of a care in the world for the pain he was putting her through.

"When I said enemy, I meant it in parallel as to when you hurt my friends, especially when that friend is someone who has done nothing but help and protect me. Even now, Viktor, you have caused all of us to lose hope, trust, and faith towards you. You don't deserve anything from any of us including Cayden and Blayne. I fully understand that they didn't have a say or performed an action that was or had an influence over what you did, but they care about him more than anything in the world. And if I was hopeful and not doubtful, I'd say those two cared more about Azyriah than they do about themselves and each other."

Viktor wasn't pleased. He was far from it, but he knew that she was right and he despised it. He wanted her to fear him. He wanted everyone to fear him whether that was brought upon by threat or violence. No matter what he had to do, it would be the last thing he'd do. He cared for them all. But there was a particular individual who had his heart and wouldn't let it go - whether it was conscious or not. Too many thoughts were running through his mind and he wasn't - couldn't - think clearly.

His fingers laced themselves around her neck, putting pressure on her windpipe cutting off all passageways for oxygen to reach her lungs, that were compulsing with need.

His face remained emotionless. There was nothing anyone could do to tame the hungry, ravenous beast that lurked within his heart.

"Viktor, stop it. You're hurting her." Blayne pulled at his shoulders softly, trying her best to pry him off of Jordeyn before her world went black. Nothing was working. Cayden walked out of the bathroom, supporting Azyriah on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around the front of his neck to make it easier with stenching the blood that was still flowing out of the gash on his head. Blayne resorted to the only solution she knew. She carefully pried the lid off of her cup and dumped the hot contents within on the bare of Viktor's neck. Immediately, his grip on Jordeyn was no more and an ear splitting scream ricocheted off the walls. Blayne scurried to Jordeyn, rubbing her shoulder in a soothing circular pattern, while her other hand carefully massaged the sides of her neck: trying her best to increase the blood flow and ease her breathing.

"Jordeyn …" Viktor's voice broke. He stared at the girl in front of him, on her knees and a hand to her chest while the other was trembling beneath her, straining under her own weight to keep her from collapsing. He could see the tears drip from her cheeks, creating starburst patterns on the concrete beneath her, "Please … I-" He reached a trembling hand out towards her, willing her to stand. Willing her to allow him to apologize for the wrong he'd done to her. Willing her to somehow forgive him even when he knew he didn't deserve anything from her. He wanted to comfort her even if she didn't want his comfort. All he wanted was to be there for her even though he knew he had fucked up every chance he had of having himself be forgiven.

Jordeyn - head shaky and face as pale as the pages of a book - flinched at the sudden advancement of his hand towards her. The hand that had attempted to drain every bit of oxygen from her body and leave her there dead. She pushed herself as far from him as she could: her back pressing into the cold stones of the wall wishing he could leave: the face of no emotion carved into the center of her brain like a blade taken to the flesh. She could still the see hints of red and black speckled across his once oh-so-entrancing eyes. Now, they were anything but entrancing. Jordeyn knew every time she looked into those eyes from now on, she would be reminded of what he had done to her.

Sparing her from the embarrassment of being seen with the one who had harmed her any longer, Blayne covered one side of her face as the other was hidden in her shoulder and they ran to the infirmary shouldering past the lower classmen who were curious as to what had happened.