I’m really fine

The door to the washroom creaked open. Elias didn't hear it at first, too consumed by the overwhelming darkness swallowing him. His tears flowed in quiet, broken streams, his sobs now reduced to soft, choking gasps. He barely registered the intrusion, too lost in the misery suffocating him.

Then, a voice—a cold, dismissive, and almost amused—broke through the fog of his mind.

"What are you crying for? The master had his way with you?"

Elias flinched at the harshness of the words, but he couldn't summon the strength to lift his head, to face the man who had cause most of his pain in the household.

That very voice belonged to Mr. Reginald.

"You should be happy at least you have some worth. You should be grateful."

Elias felt something twist inside him at those words.

Grateful. For what?

His body trembled harder as he pressed his hands against his ears, trying to block out the man's voice, trying to force away the suffocating weight of his words. But it wasn't possible.

A low chuckle followed, making Elias's skin crawl.

"Ah… this was what you were meant to be."

The words hit him like a slap, each syllable searing through his fragile defenses, splintering whatever little hope he had left.

This was what he was meant to be.

Elias's breath hitched, his chest constricting painfully as his heart thudded with a vicious ache. The world around him seemed to tilt and shift, turning darker, colder, as Mr. Reginald's voice echoed in his mind.

Grateful? For being used?

Elias's body went still, the sobs cutting off, leaving only a hollow emptiness behind.

His heart felt like it was turning to ash in his chest, blackening with the weight of the words that clung to him like a poison. There was no escape from it now. There was no light left.

The darkness, the weight, the truth—it was all too much. His hands trembled as he slowly lowered them to his sides, empty of purpose, empty of hope.

Being alive felt… worthless.

What was the point of living if this was all he was meant for?

His body was just a vessel, a tool for others. Nothing more. He wasn't a person. He was nothing.

Nothing.

The tears had dried up, replaced by a deep, aching numbness. Elias stared at the stone floor, unblinking, as if looking at it long enough would make the world make sense again. But it didn't. It couldn't.

Mr. Reginald's footsteps faded as he left the room, but the words remained, clinging to Elias like a dark stain.

The final blow had been dealt.

And now, Elias was left with nothing but the gnawing emptiness.

He got up from the ground, ignoring the ache in his body, his eyes had sunken as he stared at his reflection on the mirror.

His body, the one thing he had managed to keep clean in this filthy place had gotten soiled.

Elias bit his lips tightly, yesterday would be the last time he bowed down to that so called master.

He could kill him for all he cared, now that his life had no meaning to him.

Once he was done washing up, he discarded the bedsheets, wrapped a towel around him and headed to his room.

Regardless he had to work, since his parents had sold his freedom to Ravenspire to pay off their debts, on his neck he had 3 million worth of gold coins to pay.

A child born to bitter parents, who had married for convenience, what had he expect from such a home?

Nothing…

As he dressed, his hands trembling slightly as he fastened the buttons on his shirt, a sense of numbness washed over him. It was easier this way, easier to exist without feeling anything at all. Because to feel was to acknowledge the pain, the hollow emptiness that consumed him.

He was a tool. He was a thing to be used, nothing more. His worth was only as valuable as his ability to serve, to please.

And when that was done, when there was nothing left of him, he would be discarded.

Elias looked at his reflection once more before leaving the room. He didn't care anymore. There was nothing left to care about.

The halls of Ravenspire were still empty, but Elias felt the eyes on him. He always did. He couldn't escape them, couldn't escape the whispers of the servants and the cold glares of the master's men.

Work. That was all he had left. It was the only thing that kept him moving, kept him from succumbing to the crushing weight of hopelessness.

He walked to the kitchen, the familiar hum of the house filling the silence, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Elias had long ago given up on the idea of salvation, of escape. His parents had made sure of that. Ravenspire had made sure of that. He was trapped. A prisoner to his debt. A prisoner to his own life.

Nothing mattered anymore.

He stood by the stove, his hands mechanically preparing food for the master. The motions were automatic, his mind numb as he worked, just like every other day. The smell of food filled the air, but it did little to lift the suffocating fog that clung to him.

The kitchen door creaked open, but Elias didn't notice at first. His mind was too clouded, his thoughts drowning in the dark space that had taken over him. The soft clink of a spoon against the counter was the only sound that filled the silence, until Alaric's deep voice broke through the quiet.

"Elias," Alaric called, his tone firm but laced with concern.

Elias stiffened at the sound of his name, the reality of the moment crashing back into his head. He blinked a few times, trying to shake off the fog in his head, before slowly turning to face him. Alaric's eyes were already on him, and there was something in the alpha's gaze that made Elias want to shrink back.

"Hey," Elias greeted softly, forcing a neutral tone, though it sounded like he was swallowing the weight of his own words.

Alaric didn't waste any time. His sharp gaze swept over Elias's tired face, the exhaustion evident in the sag of his shoulders and the dullness in his eyes. It was like a switch flipped—Alaric immediately recognized something wasn't right.

"Are you okay?" Alaric's voice softened, concern lacing his words.

Elias didn't meet his eyes, instead looking away, a tightness growing in his chest. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to admit anything either. The last thing he wanted was for Alaric to see the cracks in his facade.

"I'm fine," Elias responded quickly, his voice quiet and almost too calm. He gave a small, dismissive wave with his hand, hoping to brush off the question. "Just… a little tired, that's all."

Alaric took a step closer, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Elias…" His voice was gentle but firm. He wasn't buying the act. "You don't look fine. You don't look like you're just tired."

But Elias, feeling the weight of Alaric's gaze, forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He turned back to his work, trying to regain control over the conversation and distance himself.

"I really am fine," Elias insisted, his tone a little sharper now, though still not as convincing as he'd hoped. "Just need to get through the day."

There was a long pause before Alaric spoke again, his voice quieter now, though still tinged with concern. "If you ever want to talk, I'm here."

Elias said nothing in response, his eyes on the countertop. He didn't want to admit how much the words stung. He didn't want anyone to know.

Not Alaric.

Not anyone.

Alaric hesitated for a moment, but then he sighed softly. "Alright. But don't shut me out completely, Elias."