Bleed, But Don’t Break
697 Words
Darkness clung to the cabin like mould. Time dissolved into waves of agony and silence, broken only by the steady hum of a space heater and the soft, surgical rhythm of Aaron’s voice.
Levi couldn’t tell how long he’d been there.
His body had become a foreign thing—swollen and broken, a canvas for Aaron’s cruelty.
He hung forward in the chair now, wrists bound tightly behind his back, his head sagging, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. One eye was swollen shut. Several ribs cracked. His right pinky bent at an unnatural angle.
But still—he hadn't said her name.
Jessie.
Aaron circled the chair like a patient predator, each footstep deliberate. He had rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, revealing forearms speckled with dried blood. Not his own.
“You’re loyal,” Aaron said conversationally, wiping his gloves with a cloth. “I’ll give you that.”
Levi coughed, the motion sending knives through his chest.
Aaron leaned close, inspecting his face. “Is it love? Or fear?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Or something darker?”
Silence.
He grabbed Levi’s hair and yanked his head up.
“Who is she?”
Still nothing.
Aaron sighed. “You think you're noble. That protecting her makes you strong.” He turned, selecting a scalpel from the tray. “But in the end, people like you—you're tools. You break. Everyone breaks.”
The blade slid across Levi’s chest—shallow, precise. A message, not a wound. Another page in Aaron’s twisted journal.
But Levi didn’t scream. He wouldn’t give him the pleasure.
He would not give up Jessie.
By dawn, Aaron left him—bloodied, slumped, barely conscious. Levi feigned unconsciousness until the cabin was silent. Until the door creaked closed. He counted Aaron’s footsteps in the snow—listened to the engine rumble to life, then fade down the dirt road.
He moved.
Pain lit every nerve as he strained against the rope. His right hand—slick with blood and sweat—twisted until bone shifted and skin tore. With a grunt, it slid free.
He didn’t have the strength to celebrate.
He cut the rest of the restraints using a jagged nail pulled loose from the chair frame. The effort left him shaking, but he pushed through the fog of pain and blood loss.
He made it out the side door. The cold hit like a slap, but it cleared his mind. He stumbled through the woods, disoriented and limping, navigating by instinct alone.
He didn’t go to the police.
He went to her.
It was nearly midday when he reached Jessie’s apartment complex. He scaled the fire escape like a wounded animal, breaking in through her kitchen window. He’d been there enough times to know where she kept the spare key. And more importantly—the first-aid supplies.
He collapsed in the bathroom, shaking, eyes fluttering. He stitched what he could. Set the finger. Popped the shoulder back into place with a muffled scream. Then passed out, curled against the cold tile floor.
The key clicked in the lock just past six.
Jessie walked in carrying groceries, heels tapping softly on the hardwood. She dropped her bag by the door and frowned.
Something was off.
She sniffed the air—metallic.
She walked slowly toward the bathroom, one hand brushing her hip where her backup blade was hidden beneath her coat.
“Levi?” she called.
No answer.
She opened the bathroom door—
—and froze.
He sat on the edge of the tub, shirtless and covered in bruises and bandages, one eye swollen shut, his breathing ragged. Blood was smeared on her floor, her towels, and her sink. He’d tried to clean up, but there was too much damage.
His head lifted slowly. “Hey, Jess.”
For the first time in years, she gasped.
“Levi,” she whispered. “What the hell happened to you?”
He gave a pained smile. “I found the copycat.”
Her pulse spiked. “Who?”
Levi’s good eye locked onto hers.
“Aaron.” Than levi fell unconscious into Jessie’s arms.
- Writer
