Mark My Words

Chains: [Killua Zoldyck x Reader]

"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."

- Maya Angelou

• | § | • • | § | • • | § | • • | § | •

Your Point of View

Darkness lurked around every corner. Evil snaked in every hall. Silence was not solace.

Where were you?

You were in the Zoldyck mansion. You knew this place inside and out. Many times you had wandered the crooked halls while all were asleep. You always searched for him, trying to seek out the one who wronged you. The one who crossed you, and the one who was going to die by your hands.

Who were you?

You were the daughter/son of a merchant. Your father was murdered by a member of the Zoldyck clan, and now you saught out revenge. More than revenge, you wanted closure. You wanted to see the blood run cold in the body of his murderer. You wanted to watch the life drain out of his eyes slowly. It was a sad life you lived now. Your nomadic lifestyle was filled with thievery, double-crossing, and loneliness.

What did you want?

Other than the death of your father's killer, you had no idea. Once you killed him, what would you do? Where would you go? What would be your purpose in life? And if you didn't find your closure, what would happen then? You didn't want to think that far, because if you did, you'd never achieve your goal. Little voices bit at you, ate you from the inside out. You were unsure. No matter how many times you wandered around, you always saw your father's loving, tender eyes, and dark blood everywhere. This mansion reminded you of him. He had always admired it from the outside. Now that you had seen it, in all it's glory, it only made your throat tighten.

There was nothing beautiful about the home of an assassin family.

Blood. Blood, mucus, vomit, and more. All the horrifying smells wafted up towards your sensitive nose, and you scrunched your face, covering your nose. Your curiosity got the best of you, and your feet pulled you toward the end of the darkened hall, towards the purtrid scents. Your hand reached out, your fingers barely scraping the surface of the golden knob.

Your grasped the knob in your tight grasp, and gazed down the long flight of stairs. You took a deep breath, stepping down. You felt the urge to go faster. You wondered what could the Zoldyck family be hiding. You heightened your senses, and felt the instant pulse of a heart beat. It was slow, oh so slow, but you felt it, heard it, smelt the blood, saw the small glow at the bottom of the stair case, and tasted the evil in the air around you.

When you reached the bottom, only a lone, red light bulb lit the room. The light glinted off of many hard, metal objects.

Finally, your eyes locked onto something chained to the wall. It reeked worse than anything else in the room. It was covered in blood, sweat, tears, and vomit stained the floor near it. You gagged and covered your nose. You inched toward the thing, and when you got closer, you saw it was a person. You got onto your knees and leaned closer to the figure, seeing him suspended from the wall. Chains hung down off his arms and legs. Even around his throat, he wore a collar of shiny metal. His skin was pale, paler than pale, and his hair seemed to be a dull grey. Your breath was caught in your throat as you reached out to touch him. You wanted to see if he was alive, or just the remains of a pitiful human.

He was alive.

His blood crusted eyes opened so suddenly, you barely had enough time to jump back and land on the balls of your feet, hands ready at your sai.