Valentine.

Shreds.

For full experience, readers are encouraged to read with the music.

An infuriated Valentine abruptly releases me and rushes up from the bed, taking with him the warmth and comfort of the last two minutes. Stalking over to the only communication device in the room, which is a telephone tightly fastened to the wall, he proceeds to slam a combination of digits into the mechanism's keypad, cursing as he does so. After a few buzzes, whoever he is attempting to reach finally picks up.

"Listen. I need you to-" he begins, but whatever the receiver says on the other end doesn't allow him to finish. He stands still as he listens calmly. Too calmly. Slowly, I watch on as Valentine's hand forms an iron fist around the phone, his knuckles blanching from the tension. He brings his free hand up and runs it through his snow-white tresses in frustration.

Then, from what I can tell, some bad news drops from whoever is on the line, for he freezes in place, standing uncannily still for a prolonged beat. Silence consumes every nook and cranny of the vast room. Very bad news.

Concern and curiosity beginning to eat me alive, I cautiously peel myself from under the heavy duvet and swing my legs over the side of the bed, ready to move in his direction. My feet don't even reach the ground before the deafening slam of the telephone followed by a loud crack, echoes across the room's large walls.

Though my head snaps in Valentine's direction, my eyes are immediately drawn to the newly formed hole in the cerulean wall. Loosened drywall forms a clear path to the floor, adorning it in a light coat of dust – contrasting against the deep blue flooring. Having long disconnected the phone from its chord; he stands by the detached communication chord seething, a deep pool of ichor slowly running down his right knuckle and onto the broken phone still in his firm grasp.

Something tells me that whatever he heard on the phone had probably been about his brother... about Hades.

As soon as the thought forms in my mind, Valentine shoots a wild gaze at me and grits his teeth. "YOU DARE THINK HIS NAME WHILST YOU ARE WITHIN MY BORDERS?!" he shouts at me furious.

And this is exactly why I had withheld the details of my dream. Because of fear of his reaction. Fear of this...His eyes quickly go from their haphazard flashing to a dark purple, as he tosses the detached phone onto the carpet a few feet away. He marches over to his closet and yanks each of the sliding doors open, exposing his wardrobe.

Peeling his shirt over his head; he reveals a toned torso, decorated with Greek symbols itched up and down his chest in a single, straight line. Had it not been for the confusion and irritation coursing through me, the sight might have even made for some sinful distraction on my part.

Snap out of it. I shake my head before refocusing my attention on the last few moments. He throws down the shirt in a frenzied tantrum and begins to go for the clasp on his belt buckle. I whip my head around and find something else to focus on, settling for the delicate glass lamp mindlessly resting on top of the bedtable.

After a moment too long of Valentine incessantly muttering profanities and rummaging around, he finally crosses towards me. Wearily peering up at him, I see he is fully suited. Leather black pants, a tightly fitted combat tunic, and his signature dark boots, now protect his body.

He reaches over me and grabs his jacket from the corner of the tall bed frame. "Where are you going?" I ask alarmed. The last 24 hours had gotten me so shaken up, the last thing I needed to be right now was alone. His jaw only ticks in furious concentration as he continues to rummage about, completely ignoring me.

"Valentine..." I call again, frowning. Still, I receive no response. Resentment soon joins the party of fear and aggravation in my system, worsening my trembling. I grip my braids in a tight, exasperated gesture to keep from losing my mind. I can't help but think back to how I managed to find myself in this hellhole. How I got myself mixed into this turbulent whirlwind. How I was dragged back here only to be whipped back into his life of constant rage, fear, and worry.