The Scars He Left Behind
2028 Words
Tagline:
He came back from the dead. But what returned… wasn’t the boy they remembered.
Time: 3 Days After the Attack.
The air inside the mansion had changed.
It wasn’t just the new security at every corridor. Or the silence between guards who once whispered freely. It was something deeper.
Something colder.
Lev.
He wasn’t the same.
Not the boy who used to laugh in the kitchen with Valentin. Not the one who painted Dominik’s tattoos with cocoa butter after missions. Not the one who once snuck into the guardhouse and played poker until midnight.
That Lev had died in that cell.
What remained? Was a ghost in flesh and fury.
He didn’t speak unless necessary. He ignored the staff, even the one who used to be his favorite. He hadn’t looked at Misha once. And when Valentin—Dominik’s best friend and right hand—brought him warm towels, Lev stared through him like he was dust.
“Lev,” Dominik said softly that morning, entering the recovery room with a tray of food. “Eat something.”
Lev didn’t look at him.
“Please,” Dominik added, setting it down. “You haven’t eaten all day.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You haven’t slept either.”
“I’ll sleep when I find a bed that doesn’t stink of betrayal.”
Dominik winced.
He sat down across from him.
“Lev… you know I—”
“Save it.”
Lev finally looked up—and the raw emptiness in his gaze made Dominik flinch.
“I want to leave.”
Dominik’s brows lifted. “Leave? No. Not until you're—”
“Then I’ll find another way.”
A long silence passed.
Later That Evening – Dining Room
The table was full. Plates clattered. Silverware moved.
Misha sat quietly at Dominik’s left, head bowed, barely touching his food. He hadn’t said much since Lev returned. But he’d asked Dominik earlier—softly, gently—
“Win him back. If you ever want peace, win him back. I’ll help. He deserves it.”
Dominik appreciated it.
He just didn’t know how.
He reached for his wine glass just as Lev finally entered the room. Dressed in black. Hair tied. Clean—but colder than winter air. His presence turned heads.
He walked with a grace that used to be seductive.
Now it was commanding.
He sat at the far end of the table, as far from Dominik and Misha as possible. No one spoke.
Until Dominik tried.
“You should eat. You’ve lost weight.”
“I’ll take it from your bones,” Lev replied smoothly, without looking up.
A sharp silence.
“Lev,” Dominik said carefully. “We need to talk about your room. I’ve moved your things back into ours. You can sleep there tonight.”
Lev paused, mid-cutting his steak.
Then, calmly:
“I will take my life before I sleep beside you again.”
The room froze.
Even the guards tensed.
Misha’s eyes widened. “Lev—”
“No.”
Lev stood slowly, his hands resting on the back of the chair like a king dismissing court.
“I’m not your toy. Not your memory. And definitely not your pity case.”
Dominik stood too, his voice breaking slightly. “Lev, please—”
“You don’t own me.”
Lev’s eyes flashed. “You lost me. You don’t get to touch what you threw away.”
The silence after was heavy—unbreathable.
Lev turned to leave.
Dominik’s voice cracked, barely a whisper. “Then where will you sleep?”
Lev didn’t answer. But a moment later, they all heard it—
The knock on Valentin’s door.
Minutes Later – Guest Wing
Valentin opened his door in a towel, confused and drowsy.
“Lev?”
“I need your room.”
Valentin blinked. “What? Why?”
“I’m not sleeping in that traitor’s bed. And I’m not sleeping in the nurse’s cot. Your room is neutral. I want it.”
Valentin’s brows furrowed. “Can’t we talk about this first?”
Lev stepped forward, eyes like knives. “Argue with me,” he said slowly, “and I’ll draw that thing’s blood—” he pointed at Misha, who’d followed into the hall, “—before yours.”
Valentin went pale.
Misha stepped back.
Dominik rushed forward. “Lev, stop!”
Lev’s voice was calm.
Not angry.
Just cold.
“Choose, Dominik,” he said quietly, “your past, or your pet.”
Dominik’s heart cracked.
Because he realized—Lev wasn’t trying to hurt him.
He was reminding him:
He had already been broken.
And Dominik didn’t get to fix him without bleeding first.
Lev walked into Valentin’s room, shut the door, and locked it behind him.
Dominik stood in the hallway, one hand on the wall.
Misha beside him. Silent.
And for the first time in years…
Dominik didn’t know how to get the man he loved to look at him again.
Not without tearing his entire world apart.
Late That Night – Guest Wing
The house had gone still.
Even the guards walked quieter now, as if afraid to upset the silence Lev left in his wake.
Dominik hadn’t slept.
He sat in his bedroom alone, watching the shadows crawl along the wall like regrets. Misha had long since retreated to the west corridor. No one spoke. No one dared.
Until it happened.
A scream tore through the walls like a razor.
Then another. Louder.
Then the sound of something shattering.
Dominik bolted upright.
He knew that voice.
“Lev.”
Seconds Later – Valentin’s Room
Dominik slammed into the room first, shoving the door open without knocking.
Guards spilled in behind him, weapons half-drawn, confusion written all over their faces.
But inside—
Lev was writhing on the bed, tangled in sweat-drenched sheets, thrashing like he was drowning in fire.
“No—no, don’t—don’t touch me—!”
His voice cracked, hoarse and broken. His hands clawed at his arms, his chest. As if trying to tear something off that wasn't there.
“Please, I’ll be good—I said I’ll be good—!”
Dominik rushed to his side. “Lev! Lev, wake up, you’re dreaming—”
But the moment Dominik’s hand touched his shoulder, Lev screamed.
“DON’T TOUCH ME! IT HURTS—DON’T—NO—!”
His back arched off the bed, and the covers fell away—exposing the red, puckered scars across his lower abdomen. Burn marks. Long, twisted, ugly. As if someone had poured acid across his skin and carved his pain into permanence.
Dominik froze.
His hand trembled.
“Lev…” his voice cracked. “Lev, it’s me. Baby, it’s just me…”
But Lev wasn’t there.
Not really.
He was still in the dark.
Still in that cell.
Still screaming.
Outside the door, more feet gathered. Misha pushed forward through the crowd, eyes wide with horror as he saw the raw, ruined skin. The pain Lev had never spoken of.
Dominik sat on the edge of the bed, one hand raised but never touching. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. “You’re safe. You’re home. I swear it—”
Lev flinched again, curling in on himself. His voice cracked like glass:
“No more… please… please, don’t make me scream again…”
Dominik’s heart shattered.
Valentin appeared at the door, shirt half on, stunned.
“Boss—should we get the sedative?”
Dominik didn’t answer.
He just sat there, watching the man he loved dissolve in fear.
The man who used to smile in his arms now trembled from the ghost of someone else's hands.
Dominik clenched his jaw, forcing the tears back.
“Everyone out,” he ordered hoarsely.
“Boss—”
“I said out.”
The room emptied slowly.
Dominik stayed.
And when Lev finally went still, his breaths sharp and broken, Dominik whispered into the dark:
“I’m going to kill every last one of them for what they did to you.”
As the last guard stepped away, no one noticed the tiny voice behind them.
Misha.
Whispering to himself.
“He’s not broken. He’s surviving.”
And for the first time… Misha realized that the love he wanted?
Might cost him everything.
Inside Valentin’s Room – Minutes Later
The silence after the storm was even worse.
Dominik sat on the edge of the bed, eyes burning. His hand hovered inches above Lev’s chest, watching for the shallow rise and fall of his breath.
It was there. Faint. Unsteady.
But he was breathing.
Dominik let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
He reached again, brushing sweat-matted hair from Lev’s brow. “You’re safe now, baby. I swear it. No one’s ever touching you again.”
Lev twitched at the contact—but didn’t scream this time.
Dominik closed his eyes. His voice was hoarse. “I wasn’t there when you needed me. But I’m here now. Even if you never forgive me… I’ll still protect you.”
He sat there for over an hour. Silent. Still.
Until—
A voice rasped from the sheets. Dry. Bitter.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Dominik froze.
Lev’s eyes were open.
Red-rimmed. Glassy. But awake.
“You didn’t come for me,” Lev whispered. “You buried me.”
Dominik’s throat closed. “I thought you were gone—”
“You replaced me.”
“No,” Dominik breathed, shaking his head. “It wasn’t like that—”
“You brought someone else into our home. Into our bed.”
Dominik flinched. “Lev, please—”
“I hate you.”
The words didn’t come with fire this time.
They came like ash. Burned out. Cold.
But they still gutted him.
“I don’t care if you protect me,” Lev continued, voice cracking. “You’re not mine anymore. And I’ll never be yours again.”
Dominik swallowed the pain, forcing his voice to stay steady. “You’re angry. You’re hurting. But I love you, Lev. I never stopped.”
Lev’s eyes flicked toward the door. “Then prove it.”
Dominik blinked. “Anything.”
“Let me leave.”
Dominik’s chest caved. “No.”
Lev sat up slowly, his body shaking. “Then get out.”
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
Lev’s stare sharpened. “Then I will.”
He threw the sheets off his body and tried to rise, staggering on unsteady legs.
Dominik surged to catch him—but Lev shoved him back, hard.
“Don’t touch me!”
Dominik caught his footing. “You’re still bleeding. At least let the medic—”
“f**k your medic. f**k your guards. And f**k you.”
The door creaked.
Misha stood in the hallway, frozen in shock.
He hadn’t meant to interrupt—he had only come to check if Lev was alright.
Lev’s eyes locked onto him—and darkened.
“Oh,” Lev sneered. “And there he is. The replacement.”
Misha’s lips parted. “Lev, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Get out,” Lev snapped. “Both of you. Or I swear I’ll rip the stitches out myself.”
“Lev—” Dominik started.
But Lev’s voice was ice. “You touch me again, and I’ll bleed just to spite you.”
Dominik didn’t move.
Lev looked straight at him. And said, in the calmest, cruelest voice he’d ever used:
“You want to save me, Dominik? Then start by staying the f**k away.”
Dominik didn’t answer.
Because the truth was…
That might be the only way to keep him alive.
Outside the room, Misha leaned against the hallway wall, tears building in his throat.
Dominik stood at the door, hand hovering over the knob, helpless.
And inside, Lev curled up beneath the sheets—staring at the wall with eyes wide open.
Sleep wouldn’t come again.
Only rage.
And the next time someone touched him… they wouldn’t get a second chance.
- Writer
