Morphed

Chapter Thirteen

I AM SO SORRY! This should NOT have taken so ridiculously long, but I've been on a huge One Piece binge since I got home, and have been too lazy or not in the mood to write anything for you guys. I'm really sorry. Not much else to say at this point, except that at some points you'll find the writing is kinda lazy (this is when I made myself write) and at some points it'll be up to my usual standard (this'll be where I actually wanted to write). Hope you like this chapter's lyrics, and enjoy. ;D

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I walk alone
Think of home
Memories of long ago
No one knows I lost my soul long ago

~On My Own (Three Days Grace)

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Edward didn't care. He was past the point of caring. Way too far past. He had stopped caring the moment the collar had slipped back around his throat. He didn't care that his back felt like it was on fire. He didn't care that the blood had dried up and crusted itself onto his skin. He didn't care that his throat was itching to cough (up blood). But what he cared about the least was that Hakuro was telling him to get up.

The man was beside him, telling him to get up, because they had to get to the Command Center because Hakuro had work to do and he was not about to be late because Edward couldn't get his lazy ass off the floor. But Ed didn't care. He didn't care that the man would probably beat him. Nor did he care that he wanted to see Hughes again. He just didn't have the energy to move. He felt numb, empty, hollow. He felt worthless, pathetic, useless. How could one person feel all these things simultaneously? It made no sense to him, but he didn't care about that. No matter what he did, Hakuro would not get him up off this floor without an effort, because Edward had no intention of moving a single muscle. He was too tired, too sore. Why should he get up? What hold did Hakuro have over him? Edward couldn't remember. The answer was there, in his mind, just a little too far out of reach. But that was okay. If he remembered it might be tempting to movie his legs, to stand up, to follow the man who treated him like scum. Without the reason, there was no point in doing any of it. Better to just lay here, curled up like a wounded puppy.

Pain flared up out of nowhere in his right side, and he knew with a hazy kind of awareness that the bigger man had kicked him with his boots. That was okay. He still wasn't going to move. What was physical pain, after all? It was a result of the nerves firing off warning signals to the brain after threatening contact to the body. That was it. The body would bruise, or swell, or maybe even just go red for a while. That was the extent of it. Physical pain was nothing compared to emotional turmoil, so why should he feel compelled to obey by it? He shouldn't. And he wouldn't. Hakuro could spend the next hour kicking him, but he would just be wasting his energy. Another kick in the exact same spot caused another bout of pain that Edward ignored. He didn't care if his body bruised. It had already bled for this man, so what was some blue and purple?

Hakuro must have realized this, because after a few more kicks Edward felt the mans hands grabbing him underneath his arms and he was pulled to his feet. There was a small part of Edward that felt like this was a loss, but the rest of him thought that he had won; Hakuro had had to physically pull him up and onto two feet, and Ed hadn't moved a single muscle on his own. Point: Edward.

When Edward was safely standing, Hakuro left the room, coming back with a plain shirt and Edward's coat. He pulled the shirt over Ed's head and stuck his arms through the sleeves like he was a three year old. He had probably done this a thousand times for his own children, so doing it for Ed to save his own skin (people probably wouldn't react very will if Edward appeared at H.Q shirtless and covered in bloody scars) was not really all that surprising. The shirt pulled at the tares in his skin and he winced internally, hissing through his teeth. The fact that Hakuro wasn't even going to put some kind of disinfectant on it just went to show how little he cared for the well-being of his charge. The man slipped Ed's arms through the sleeves of his coat, and bent down on his knees in front of Ed. "Not a word to anyone, understand?" He said.