Losing Control {BoyXBoy} Rewritten

Chapter Twelve

Sylis POV

He sat in the corner of his his cell trembling violently, his back facing towards me and blocking me from seeing his face. I could see his spine pressing against his skin, like an alien trying to claw their way out from inside his body. He was so thin that I could practically see every bone he had.

Slowly I walked over too him, crouching down to his height out of hopes that I wouldn't startle him.

"Atticus?" I called softly.

His trembling ceased, his head slowly raising and turning ever so slightly to look at me. The look on his face sent chills down my spine. His sunken in green eyes were no longer vibrant, instead they were dull. They were void of any emotion. There was no happiness, no fear, no sadness, nor was there any spark of hope.

He had given up.

It's felt as if he was staring through me, not at me. I watched him slowly turn his concentration back to the corner, his trembling returning.

"L-little pest?" I called softly, my voice cracking ever so slightly.

"No's real." He whispered. "No's real." He said as he began to gently rock back and forth.

"I-im here Atticus. I'm still in Xanthus. I'm trying to come back to you baby. I'm trying so hard." I said, tears forming in my eyes.

What I said was true. I had been trying to find a way to get control of my body again, but no matter what I tried Xanthus was still the one in control.

"Lies."He hissed, his rocking slowly becoming faster as he placed his good hand over his right ear and squeezed his eyes shut. "Lies too' s Atticus!" He snapped.

This was not the first time I've talked to Atticus in this astral projection form. Sometimes he could see me, others he couldn't. It all depended on what state of mind he was in. I talked to him every chance I got in this form, I wanted him to know I was still inside Xanthus. I wanted him to know that I was trying to come back to him. I wanted him to know that I love him.

Every time I spoke to him, it became harder and harder to convince him that I was still here in a way, but I knew that there would be no convincing this time. He didn't believe me and I honestly didn't blame him.

I slowly backed away, giving him some room before he started to try and hurt himself. I watched his rocking slowly stop, his good hand cradling his broken arm to his chest.

I didn't know if he could even move his fingers on that hand at this point. I wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't even feel it anymore.

His body was covered in bruises. It looked as if a kid hand got a hold of blue and purple paint and started finger painting on him. His hair was tangled and greasy from not having a bath in weeks.

I heard the cell door open, Atticus's body tensing at the sound. I turned my attention to Xanthus and watched him place a plate of scraps on the floor before walking away. It was strange to see my body moving but not actually being in control of it.

I turned my attention back to Atticus, watching as he slowly turned his head to look behind him, his eyes skipping over me and ignoring me completely. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach as I watched him crawl over to the scraps like a scared animal.

I watched him pick up the old food, taking a small bite to see if it was safe or not. Once he determined it was he scarfed it down, his bony fingers practically shoving the food down his throat.

He licked the plate and his fingers clean, his stomach still growling for more food as he made his way over to the other corner of his cell where a puddle had formed from a broken pipe above it. He put his face into the puddle, greedily lapping up as much as he could. Once he finished, he crawled back to the corner I found him in and began rocking gently once more.

His eyes stayed glued to the corner, his eyes glazed over as he undoubtedly relieved his memories within his head.

It was sick what Xanthus was doing to him, but there was nothing I could do to stop him.

Tears of anger built in my eyes as I watched Atticus, his eyes wide as he looked at the corner.

"S-sylis." He whimpered softly, and for once in weeks an emotion sparked in those dull green eyes.

Sadness.

Tears filled his eyes, some slipping down his thin and dirty cheeks. Sobs ripped through him, his shoulders shaking violently. My heart squeezed painfully inside my chest, my own tears slipping down my own cheeks as I watched him.

So badly I wanted to reach out and touch him, to wipe his tears away, but I couldn't. I watched him cry himself to sleep, his body curled in the corner as he cradled his broken arm to his chest. His head rested against the concrete, tear streaks on his cheeks.

Atticus deserved non of this. He deserved every little thing he asked for, he served to be spoiled. He was too inoccent for this.

I wished I could go back to the day I rejected him. I wished I would've accepted him. I was so selfish to treat him like I did when all he wanted was to be loved.

It's my fault Atticus is in this situation. If it wasn't for me, we would've been happily married and in our own house.

It may be my fault, but I'm going to do anything I can to fix this.

"I'm going to fix this Atticus," I said as I looked down at his sleeping form.
"I'm going to give you the best life you can have." I said, my fists clenching by my sides.