The Discarded

Chapter 40

Saturday December 20th 2014

It was a joy to wake up with the akatharton in his arms. This was one of the last days he'd have this, and he meant to suck the marrow from its screaming bones before it was taken from him. Soon, Winter Break would be here, and he'd be back on the streets.

He had to give it to them, they'd fucked him good. Whether Viktor knew what the note contained was up for debate. He was still pissy about getting shit on in front of the school. The man pushed each workout as hard as ever, not letting up until Cesare couldn't lift himself off the mat. But did he know what Jerold had done or was it like so much with Viktor, out of sight was out of mind?

Cesare,

We are aware that you do not have a family to go home to for the holidays. However, we regret to inform you that you cannot stay on campus. While some students enjoy this privilege, given recent events, it would be better if you stayed somewhere else.

Regards,

Jerold.

Simple and to the point. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. It didn't matter that he had nowhere to go. He was a troublemaker, and they'd see him gone.

Holding Anastasia, he dipped his head, he breathed in her scent as her fever hot warmth washed over him. These had been some of the best weeks of his life. Having someone to take care of, someone who needed and wanted him. It had filled the aching void inside him. We want to love others far more than we want to be loved. Some find their singular worth in helping others. Only good for what they could do for others, they carved themselves into slaves of body and soul.
She was beautiful and wonderful. Having her was like owning the night. To have its shadow as his own, to know it shaded the world at his command and cooled the searing scars the sun had burned into him. He knew the more he loved, the more it would hurt when she left, but he couldn't pull away. He'd kept the memories shiny and new, storing them for the storm of pain to come. Misery breeds like morning glories, while happiness is as hard to grow as orchids and lasts as long.

Cesare watched the room slowly brighten as the sun rose. He couldn't help but remember what Kali had said, that some things were special enough to lose sleep over. He wondered if she'd watched him like he watched Anastasia now.

"You awake, Cesare?"

Giving in to the impulse, he kissed her gently on the top of her head. The close-cut hair was growing back, but it would be a long time before it was as long as it had been. "Yep. You ready to wake up, princess?"

She snuggled into his chest. "Not yet. You're soft and the bed's warm. We still have time before I need to get ready."

"We have the day; the Yule Ball doesn't start until eight."

Anastasia let out a sigh, running over his word as if they hadn't been said. "Thankfully, Miss Raven agreed to come by and help me get ready. I love your help but make up's a delicate thing, not for the fumbling fingers of a novice."

Anastasia's hands moved over his as they rested on her stomach. The wraps had come off a week ago. The flesh was maggot-white, a wasteland of red valleys and trenches with translucent sickly spots. The damage reached up her forearms, stopping just below her elbows.

Cesare could feel the lacerated flesh. Rough as a cat's tongue, it rasped along his softer skin. She didn't have anywhere near the dexterity she used to, the nerves and muscles wasted and ruined.

"You sure you don't mind?" Anastasia asked quietly.

"Mind what?" Cesare responded absently, all too aware of how soft she felt against his hardness.