Dragonflies II: Love is Such a Strong Word

by evilspiderkitty

Summary:

Claudio, a dragonfly hybrid, is imprisoned after the murder of his owner. His brother, his accomplice, though still free after Claudio's lie, always spoke of eternal love and displayed it, but he warned Claudio not to fall in it. But what if Claudio started playing things a little risky and broke the rules? Well, how else is he going to make his time in prison, which is called the Pound, worthwhile?

(Part I is private so I can update it, sorry, I thought it was cringy, but I wrote this in a way you don't have to read that)

(Some characters are BASED AFTER real people and songs but are too out of character for this to be considered a fanfic)

!!!! Triggering themes like rape, incest, etc... This was meant to be disturbing and not for the faint of heart! Read with caution! I don't condone any of these topics either. !!!!

Chapter 1: Momma (Prologue)

Six years old. Sitting placidly on his mother's lap as her delicate hands feathered against his back. Listening to the sweet tune she sang with her mellifluous voice, meanwhile the cold zephyrs of New York's winter slipped through the windows. It seemed like nothing could take a different route from here. 

The doorknob ahead rattled, followed by a few knocks that paused Cambria Sanchez's song. She gently lifted her son off of her plump thighs and set him down on the mocha brown leather couch. “Wait for me here. I have to get the door,” she chirped with a motherly beam that shaped her lips into beauty. 

Her wraith feet hardly made the planks of the floor creak as she drifted across them. There was an idle figure blurred behind the decorative glass window of the front door. Cambria curled her soft hand around the doorknob and turned it, and the outside ether above the lush was revealed.

A man stepped into the room, his hair a bright, flashy shade of green. Dragonfly wings protruded from his back, and atop his head were two, long black antenna that nearly grazed against the top of the doorframe. He unbuttoned the collar of his dark shirt and sighed, “It's been a day, Cam.”

“Has it?” Cambria acknowledged, her voice as smooth as silk. She laid a hand upon her mate's shoulder. “You may sit down if you like.”

“Traveling... From California to New York,” the man puffed, wandering around the room, his boots sounding like a horse's gallop against the floorboards. “Feels endless. And I do it for my son.”

“Our son,” Cambria corrected him, facing her dragonfly child who lazed back on the couch, her eyes full of love. “Well, you may sit with—”

“My son, he has the same wings as I do. Listen, it's been six whole years of travel across the country. I'm tired. And still, you won't let him come with me. Back at home, the other kids are feeling lonely with no one to play with them. The house is too big for just a few kids,” the man reasoned. He was not sitting down.

“Thanks, Micah, for admitting you've been sleeping with other girls,” Cambria growled. Her voice wasn't so melodic anymore. 

“Mates are temporary, lovers are forever. And I don't do lovers,” Micah said in his husky voice, hands folded against his chest. “Let me take my son home.”

“No, because I know how you are. From what I've heard, you don't know how to treat your kids,” Cambria argued, her hands at her hips, arms bent like two swan necks. She then strolled over to her son, and scooped him up into her arms protectively. 

“You've had him for too long now,” Micah hissed as his mate, who sauntered across the floor before she stood in front of him. Helpless anger bloomed inside of him; he was so sick of losing and making hopeless endeavors for having a fair point.

“I'll go longer,” Cambria sighed tauntingly, fluffing her hair, black as obsidian, with a smirk. Her expression remained, and her eyes crept up to the nighing dragonfly in front of her. 

Micah rested his hands upon his son's body. “How is my dear Claudio doing?” he cooed and stroked the young soul's curly, dark hair. “Wanna come with me?”

Claudio didn't desire to have a choice between his two parents; he cherished them equally. His grip on his mother's white-as-a-pearl shirt, his eyes fixated on his father's, he bided hushed. The room spoke silence, waiting for his unforeseen reply.

Cambria swallowed his spotlight with her voice of eloquence. “He's staying with me.”

Wrathful, Micah clutched Claudio's body and tore him from his mother's magnetic embrace. Feelings of fury flew through his bloodstream and he flung his flaming fist at his mate's frail frame. Claudio, in cowardice, cowered against his father's collarbone. Cambria staggered back and spat out a scoff, staring back into Micah's sullen stare.

As her arms reached for him, Micah quickly tossed his son to the side of the room, temporarily careless about the pain he bared on the floor. “Stand fucking still,” he hissed, hand lowering towards his waist and crawling under the hem of his shirt.

“Claudio...” Cambria whimpered, watching her young child begin to wail in hurt. She couldn't stomach it, and her eyebrows lowered, wrinkling her glabella, and her lips parted and unveiled her mouth, gaped open at Micah in shock, watching as her life counted down in seconds, as a gun aimed directly at her.

A gunshot rung out, splitting the tranquility of the once pristine home owned by none other than Cambria, a damsel as dainty as a damselfly. Crimson stained the creaky, old planks and the woman clutched at her heart, aching both in pain and betrayal. Immediately, she pointed her gaze at Claudio, who shivered and quivered at the leg of a palatial coffee table of mahogany. Her sorry eyes spoke a farewell before they turned back to Micah's, forsaken, dowsed in agony as the pain shrouded her chest.

Then a second lethal shot to the heart, then a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, and more. Cambria choked and began to wither, her soul fighting the walls of her body to break free, to escape into the paradise it belonged with. Finally, the last bullet rocketed straight into her face, and the force threw her back into her own pool of the claret of her structure, along with the flesh. The atmosphere was fouled with the stench of death.

Micah clicked his mag dumped gun back into the slot on his waist. “Claudio,” he purred, still gawking at the mess he made. Somehow his sweet, sage voice remained present in time. “You're going to come with Dad, okay?” 

Claudio didn't want to. A hatred for his father instantly blossomed in his heart and resentfully, he wrapped his arms tightly around the sturdy leg of the coffee table, tears streaming like little brooks down their juvenile beds; the soft cheeks belonging to the child.

“How could you do this to Momma?” he cried.

Micah knelt down close to him, triggered a flinch. “Well, chéri, she deserved it,” he consoled, attempting to reach his son's lost soft spot for him with the usage of a French word. “Now, I'm not going to hurt you, so come out or I'll make you.”

“You hurt my back when you threw me!” Claudio whined fearfully as his father's frightening fingers furled around his torso. “No! Don't take me!”

“You wouldn't rather be in a home by yourself, would you?” Micah cooed, spooky eyes as swoony as the moon on a starlit night, scooping his son up into his aloof hold. “I can give you band-aid for your boo-boo if you please.”

“Just don't take me, please!” Claudio cried and tried to pry himself from the sly, nigh; eye to eye Micah. He was rewarded with a brusque, bruising slap to the face. “Ow!”

As Micah turned around, turned to the front door, turned behind his mate's body, Claudio peered over his shoulder like a captain at Cambria and the blood that blanketed the floor around her. Her face was mutilated; skin peeled off her once round cheeks that complimented her bloody, plump lips, which didn't look as sweet as they did when she kissed him before. Blood filled her mouth, coated her tongue, stained her teeth orange. A horrifying sight. Down Claudio's cheeks flowed the salty rivers still as he eyed the scene of his dead mother that'd forever and ever, perpetually, haunt him.

Then the door snapped shut, and instead of the blood and death, Claudio's gaze was locked on the decorative glass window that blurred the terror of the inside. He recited his mother's last song in his head and closed his eyes, wishing to sleep with Cambria, though too young to think such.

Chapter 2: Chapter 1: Lies

Fifteen years old. Sitting hysterically in a police car, a rib broken after a brutal punch of defense. Listening to the officer question him, overwhelmed with the amount of stupid questions that his voices were starting to intervene and say it was stupid as he was stupid. Everything took a different route from there, when he decided, though perhaps he was out of his head, to murder, to shoot, his owner, Mr. Levesque.

“What happened on the day of the murder?” Now they were not asking random questions to get to know him. The voices around him hushed, seemingly interested, although mocking.

Claudio replied with his dullest voice, his head dipped in shame. “I told my brother to tell my father that he was his son. But my brother was my father's mate and they didn't know, so my father went out to find a new mate to breed. He told Mr. Levesque to watch us, but he was sleeping on the sofa—”

The cop cut off his words as a shocked expression morphed his face. “Hold on, the father bred his son? That is not possible. Are you honest?”

“No, sir, they did not breed. They mated. My father always wanted a dragonfly, and my male brother was the only one he could find besides me. They are not mates anymore. May I continue explaining?” Claudio's voice was soft as always, kindred to his mother's. He atrabiliously wished this seat was her thighs. Wished he could sense in his ears her silvery song of sugary-sweet sounds.

“Yes, so Mr. Levesque is on the sofa and he is sleeping,” the cop favored. 

“I grabbed a gun from the closet upstairs then made all of my siblings go into my sister's room on the top floor. Then I went downstairs and shot Mr. Levesque, my owner, in the head. And then I escaped through the window and nobody noticed.”

“May I ask you some questions?”

Claudio turned his heavy gaze upwards. “Sure.”

“Why did you choose to kill him to jump out the window?” the cop interrogated skeptically.

Claudio's stomach turned, thrashed, thumped against his insides and his voice came out like a squeak. “I don't know.”

“You must know.”

“I don't know why I thought murder was the only way out of the house. It wasn't. I just wanted to kill. I don't know why! My head was not on right.”

“Okay. Why did you want to escape?”

“My family does not love me.”

The cop scribbled down the dragonfly's honest, yet panicked, answers on a slip of pale yellow paper. “Did these feelings of being unloved inflict your murderous intentions?”

“I remember always thinking murder seemed necessary when somebody treated me bad. I still sometimes think about it. But I never acted on anything.”

Secretly, the cop had a concerned look in this face, but it was aimed at the paper. “Why did you choose to shoot him in the head?”

“It was the spot I knew would kill.”

“How did you know?”

“Because I watched my mother get shot in the head when I was young.”

The officer appeared disturbed but kept talking. This criminal must have had knowledge from past experiences that weren't so pretty. “Can you describe how you found the gun?”

Though far from home, Claudio was in the old closet on the third floor, with cobwebs hanging above his head, handling the dusty revolver with hands as gentle as his mother's handling him. He did not take notice of the tears that trickled down his cheeks until one splashed onto his black pants; his mind must've wandered to his beautiful mother for too long. Finally, through sobs, he replied. “It was in the closet near my room. It was always there because my owner liked to teach his kids how to hunt.”

“Did you ever hunt or shoot?”

“I was never interested, but he showed me how to handle guns.”

The cop nodded rather slowly. “And can you explain what happened when you killed Chester's mate and child?”

Claudio quickly thought of an excuse through nervous sweats. “Uh— I was jealous, so I murdered them.”

“Why were you jealous?”

“Because my brother could have kids and he found love and I am not capable.”

“So you thought murder was the only way out?”

“I guess so.”

“Was your brother there?”

“No, I told him I was— you know,” fidgeting, Claudio hesitated to think of a lie, “well, taking them out to the hills.”

“Why were you taking them out to the hills without Chester? You took his mate out?”

“Yes, because mates are temporary, so it's not like he cared much about her.” Micah's words forever were like glue. Claudio's voice was then soft, though he could still be heard, just wishing he wasn't. “I took her so I could fuck her.” He desired to brag about such, but it was not even true.

“Where did you put the kid while you mated with the female?”

If only Chester told him that his mate was only pregnant. Claudio didn't know a thing about the baby, just that it was killed. “Well, sir, I killed it first. I threw it in the nearby pond and it drowned. Behind her back.” If only he knew that technically, it was drowned, because the girl's body was at the bottom of the pond right now. 

The cop's hands ached to not write such horror, but it was required of him. “Then what did you do to the female after you mated with her?

“I threw her in the pond because she was not sexy enough.”

A rosy red was the shade of the officer's cheeks as he suppressed a laugh. “So did she not know how to swim?”

“No.”

“She consented to the sex, right?”

“Oh, yes!”

The cop scoffed, jotting down the reply. “I believe you. Now, what do you think is going to happen to you?” the cop asked, hearing in his criminal's hoarse voice that he hurt to have the answer.

“You're going to execute me,” Claudio whimpered, excited voice dying into a husky hiss. He saw himself, neck pressed against the guillotine's wood in the circular hole, the heavy, silver sliver of metal overhead, the sharp blade inviting him into death. Then nothing in his sight, but blood and himself decapitated in others'. 

But the cop proved him otherwise. “You're going to be sentenced a thirty-eight year lifetime in the pound.”

“Thirty-eight!?” Claudio shrieked, and the blood in his throat could be heard. He coughed it up onto his pants.

“Hybrids get less,” the cop mentioned.

“Like that makes it any better!” Claudio argued like a toddler. “What am I going to do? Die? What is there to be busy with there? And maybe who? Are you just going to put me in misery? All because I killed someone?”

“You're better off dead for it.”

The scare that triggered his fear. Claudio stopped his irritating words and averted his afraid gaze to the striped windows, watching as the world ran past in a blur, watching the distraction mindlessly. It was dizzying, for the shades of yellows and greens and possibly other hues, darkened by the night, coalesced together into one painting barred behind a window. He wished to ignore everything, to ignore what was said, to just focus on the idyllic world ouside.

You're better off dead.

“Well, you don't have to repeat it,” Claudio grumbled, slipping away from his trance.

“Repeat what?” the cop questioned.

“Nothing.” Claudio sighed deeply and let his enemies wash over him powerfully, giving his body to them, giving his soul to them. Letting them take over. He knew it. He was crazy and unhinged now, a monster. Nothing around him felt real, perhaps it might've been a mirage, and his hands lost sensation. Now he was only in his head.

You should be dead.

Claudio didn't bother asking, but he was greatly offended. He did not need to be reminded of this fact over and over and over again, because he knew. Always, he deeply desired to die by his mother's side and sleep in her arms as she sang to him, right there in paradise.

You should've shot yourself.

You're stupid!

Claudio buried in head in his hands. He begged inwardly to make it stop, begged to lose his hearing, begged to stop the cop from speaking if he really was. Choked on a sob, coughed up blood again, then groaned in pain. In his ribs, the injury bloomed like a rose, and he clutched the thorns in a shaky claw.

“Angel, I wish you were here...” he moaned, voice filled to the brim with misery. It rung in the air, merging with the other voices, and he soon didn't understand his own voice. Why did everything have to be so loud? It was so loud. . .

*****

“You are not listening,” a woman hissed at Claudio, her hiss like a snake's. She wore a uniform that marked her job as a prison employee; a shirt that's color was as deep of a blue as the ocean's with a golden logo spread across her breasts, black skinny jeans that made her shape, and a lanyard hung around her neck like a noose. Or that was what it looked like in Claudio's eyes.

The woman tossed her long, black hair back and slapped Claudio, then he snapped back into reality, instead of a fantasy world where he found a girl with a body like that. She was a snake again when she spoke. “Hold up your wrists.”

A little, mischievous smirk cut through the dragonfly's cheeks, his cumbersome eyes couldn't help but be fixed on her body, and still, he didn't hold up his wrists. The slap didn't hurt; it felt like nothing compared to the slaps Micah gave. Through his filthy mind, a thought raced across, a dirty one.

She slapped the wrong place.

The woman clutched Claudio's wrists, hard. He flinched, and she growled like a dog through bared teeth. “Listen to me.” How did a serpent become a hound? 

Finally, his lustful eyes rolled up to her sweet but angry gaze. “What is your name?” he wooed, bones shaking. Why was he shaky tonight? “You look pretty today.”

“I'm giving you this wristband so other hybrids know where you belong, what you are, and how we're going to treat you,” the employee spat, and hastily fastened a black wristband, as black as her hair, as black as Claudio's mother's hair, with a chain attached to it. “And my name is Chanel. You must be very high, or you're a pervert.”

“Why do you think that?” Claudio questioned, and by his voice, one would first think he was high. The black eclipses in his eyes were blown up as he gawked at her body.

“You're staring at my body with that voice of yours.”

“Oh, well, you look just like Momma,” Claudio said longingly, then his eyes deflated. It was not only her attractive body that turned him on, it was mostly the voices he heard, mocking her voice and moaning in it, teasing him. With his brother before he was arrested, he never seemed interested in love and sex, and would always ask questions regarding the subject. But always, he was jealous, and his fingers balled against his palms each time his brother displayed his love to his lover. His heart was squeezed a little, remembering Chester, his brother, who he saved by his lie, remembering the one he named Angel, because he was so ethereally designed in the head. 

“Well, I'm sorry that you have such a hard on for your mother. Nurse Felicity wants to see you, so go,” Chanel ordered, pointing a finger towards the door on the left in Claudio's eyes, crossing her arms like how Momma always did. Claudio's eyelids fell against each other in an exhausted manner, and Chanel stomped her boot to wake him. “Bedtime was at ten.”

“I'm sorry. Very tired, and I act strange when I'm tired,” Claudio croaked, turning to the incandescent room that casted out a yellow gleam into the hall, which stained his skin and clothes and he stepped into it. Inside, there were blue hospital beds left and right, a door in the back, and a desk in the front. Then a young girl with chocolate hair that flowed like cascades with a white uniform. A skirt hugged her waist, and Claudio suddenly had a erratic, erotic reverie of what it looked like under there. What was wrong with him tonight?

“So, I was informed that you have a broken rib, correct?” the girl said, her sound so shockingly stunning. She strolled up to him with her hands intertwined together. Her frame was so, very beautiful. “And that you're mentally ill?”

“Yes,” Claudio purred, inspecting the new wristband. The word Aggressive was printed onto it, a word meaning an untamed or criminal hybrid. Claudio wondered if perhaps he was both. Then he returned attention to the nurse, their eyes marrying.

“I want you to sit down on that bed,“ Nurse Felicity uttered, pointing her soft finger with a neat, decorated nail atop to the closest bed.

Claudio watched as his shoes lifted off the ground and moved to the bed that he dropped himself on. He puffed out a sigh and held his head in his hands wearily, peeking through his fingers, eyes tracking the odd creatures that lurked through the room; he didn't know if they were real or not, but even though they were so impotent, he couldn't look away.

Felicity pulled his arms away, then brushed his brown, curly hair with her fingers, brushed away the bleached strands in the front. The dragonfly wings, and that his dark eyes appeared troubled, and somewhere deep inside them, she was reminded of someone. “Are you related to Chester?” she asked.

“I'm his half-brother,” Claudio replied.

“Oh, really? You know, he was a sweetheart when he was here. He was the most behaved hybrid out of everyone. I have a good feeling about you,” Felicity said, and continued to play with his hair soothingly. 

Claudio felt sorry, for he knew that was a bad first impression if she didn't think he was crazy.

“May I ask you some questions if you don't fall asleep on me?” she questioned him as sweetly as honey. Second time today.

Claudio forever loved the feeling of fingers in his hair and it took a few seconds before he answered. “Yes.”

“Are you on any treatment for your illness?”

“No.”

“Any allergies?”

“No.”

“Are you sexually active?”

“Yes.” This was a lie; he was too embarrassed to speak the truth.

“Are you taking any prescriptions for anything besides your illness?”

“If you count how frequently my father shoved those hormone destroyers down my throat.”

Claudio pleaded, begged, cried for his older sister, Samantha, not to tell their father about how needy he was being. “Please, Sam, I don't want a fever,” he sobbed, squeaked and hiccupped between words. “All I did was lean against you.”

Sam frowned, and her pretty, full lips stuck out. “Yeah, you literally leaned against me. Don't you think that's a little far? And you've been like, five times more clingy in the past few days. That's weird. Cry to Dad about your problems, not me.”

“But Micah is mean to me!” Claudio whined, ferociously wiping away tears with the back of his trembling hands. Just like a little brother would, he was crying, wailing, like a child. He would never normally cry like this, but it was almost uncontrollable under fear. On the floor, back pressed against the door, he sat, Sam over his head, who shouted.

“God, shut up! Just take the damn pills! You'll feel better!” Sam plopped down onto her mattress and ran her hands through her hair in irritation. She believed that Claudio was so annoying, so attention-seeking, so aggravating. Especially in times like th ese, where he cried to her about things she did not care for, because he was too scared to tell his abusive father about what kind of things he dealt with. Hallucinations. Anxiety. This, where he felt too demanding and got in everybody's space.

Micah hated it, and he forced Claudio to take pills where the hormones in his body that made him want to breed and love were destroyed and replaced by human hormones. But Micah gave him too many each time, three or four instead of one or two. Perhaps it was the reason why he was suddenly so unhinged, because a hybrid cannot function without an equal balance of human and hybrid chemicals. 

Sam knew.

Claudio's head slept in his arms, and he whimpered, whined, wailed inside of them, though not so thunderously anymore, just a light drizzle if it was rain. “I'm sorry...” he breathed, his voice wheezy.

“No. You know you're not supposed to crave attention from anyone. Especially physical attention. You find pleasure in that. But you never learn, so you have to keep taking the pills,” Sam snapped. Claudio didn't look at her.

“But they make me sick! Why does he let everybody else love?” he complained, stretched his legs out in front of him, swiped away salty tears. “He hates me!”

“When Dad raped you when you were like, ten or whatever, you liked it. And you didn't deserve that pleasure, so he's scared when you want a hug or something that you want sex. So he gives you the pills so you don't feel any need to interact with others,” Sam explained, her voice annoyed, as clear as glass. She wished to say that Micah did hate him, for Claudio was rude to him since the day his mother died, but she couldn't hurt him anymore right now.

“I didn't like it! I didn't like it! I was crying!” Claudio screamed, and the fear in his words were almost entirely enraged, a palimpsest. “I'm fine! I don't need pills!”

“Then get out of my room and shut up!” screamed Sam back.

“I don't need pills!” Claudio repeated himself, oblivious of what Sam truly said; he was in such mania that he hardly picked up on it.

Then the door opened, pushed his weak little body away, and the sound of rattling could be heard. Like pills jumping inside of a bottle.

“Yes, you do,” Micah growled.

Felicity felt the openings of his wings and antennae with her ice-cold fingers. It sent shivers of delight down Claudio's spine, and when he closed his eyes, he thought he could see the Arctic. 

“You're very dry around here. It seems your hormones are failing. That must be a result of the frequent dosages of those pills,” she said, although Chester said this first. Her hands sat on Claudio's shoulders and squeezed repeatedly, stimulated. “This feel good?”

“Mhm,” Claudio replied, almost moaning. Could he feel this for an eternity by this very girl's polar hands? What would they feel like on his bare skin, somewhere closer to the floor, forbidden?

“This is a way I help replenish lost hormones. A hybrid's hormones are more active when they feel pleasure, relaxation, or dominance. Did you know that?” Felicity said sweetly. Still, her hands pushed against his skin.

“Oh, don't speak to me with your lovely voice. I am too old for that. You have to treat me like a criminal,” Claudio replied, opening his eyes, and the holes in them exploded again. 

“I don't have to,” Nurse Felicity said. 

“I would rather it. I don't deserve anything nice. I deserve death,” Claudio protested, and the touch he was receiving, the pressure, the pleasure, started to become evanescent, before numb. There it went, and he was sure that perhaps his body was dead. 

Felicity shook her head, disappointingly clear of ferocity, unclear of amiability. “We want what is best for our hybrids. You are right, you are a criminal and you might not deserve goodness, but you're lucky you're getting it anyway.”

A terrible silence passed. Claudio's eyes fell shut, his body sensed nothing, and he jerked awake at every startling sound. He mumbled his answers to questions, unsure of what they truly were, until the nurse stopped with her mouth, before her hands. Although the dragonfly couldn't feel, he could only drift away into slumber, he knew Felicity was upset now.

“I asked you some questions and you barely gave answers,” said Felicity, crossing her arms. “Let's try this again. So open your eyes and look at me.”

Claudio looked at her breasts first, sitting on her forearms, directly in front of his face, then quickly rocked his tired eyes up to hers. 

“What do you feel in your body?”

“I don't feel okay,” Claudio replied, his tone morose. Again, his eyes shut and his head dropped, and he had to catch himself and stay awake. It must've been at least midnight. Around him, patients in bed were sleeping, dreaming, thrashing in pain or sickness. There was no clock in sight, but the darkness in the hall told him that the day had escaped a long time ago.

“Are you tired?” Felicity asked, although the answer was as transparent as clean water.

“More than that,” Claudio grumbled. “Where will I sleep?”

“You have a spot in the Aggressive room. Do you want to go there?” the nurse offered, then turned around and headed for her desk. Claudio wished to see her pretty face again, looked down at his knees in longing.

“Sure,” he answered, slowly blinking. Still, he stared at his knees as though they were more interesting than the reality scrolling by him. Truth was, he didn't want to become unnecessarily infatuated with the nurse, despite how voluptuous she was, but then again every female here was like that. Never had he felt this way before, so intensely, and more than ever, he itched for sleep. He assumed it was another result of the frequent dosages of pills, blended with his exhaustion.

“I can't believe somebody as calm and tame as you are would commit such a crime,” Felicity awed, and spun around with a terrifying syringe in her grasp.

Claudio's mind raced and his head lost a pound. He parted his lips to speak, but not even a squeak came out. Paranoid ideas swam through his mind and he found himself backing away, eyes widened. The mad nurse stepped closer, each step feeling like doom, closer with the penetrating needle. Until finally, she rested her nails upon his arm, and pulled him. Claudio's heart stopped and he nearly shrieked.

“It's okay,” Felicity affirmed, but to the dragonfly her voice was honeyed, and she was playing tricks on him. Her palm glided over his head and landed on his neck, which she grabbed, but not tightly enough to strangle him. “I don't mean to frighten you. I'm going to inject some hybrid chemicals into your blood. This is going to help you with your health as a hybrid. We don't want your wings to become weakened, and I'm sure you don't either. Sit still, please.”

Claudio fought to rip himself away, believing what she said was a lie. It was difficult to turn his head, difficult to breathe, difficult to think clearly. Felicity stabilized him by his shoulders with a sadistic-looking smile. “I don't want it!” he cried in defeat.

“It's going to make you feel better, I promise. Your wings look so dry and they must be sore. Will you please sit still for me? It will only hurt for a second,” Felicity coaxed, and watched tears of fear seethe in Claudio's eyes. 

“I don't want anything in my body,” Claudio sobbed, then wiped his wet eyes. His chin was rubbed with an uninvited thumb, so was his slight stubble. It was not pacifying.

“After this, I'll take you to bed. You're too tired to stay up any later. Just please hold my hand and let me do this,” Felicity favored, and her patient immediately fastened his hand tautly in hers, still with warm tears running down his cheeks. Carefully, she poked the needle into his arm, he winced, and she pushed the chemicals into his bloodstream. Claudio whimpered, his sound thin, and when she was finished, he sighed and let her blanket his injection site with a Band-Aid.

“Better?” she asked at last, their hands still locked together.

“Just get me to sleep,” replied Claudio, and his voice seemed discontent.

So Felicity walked him down the dark hall. The only source of light was the moonlight shining through the large window above the front doors, and it was beautiful on the back of the nurse's brown hair. They turned right, then right once more, entering another hall that looked the exact same as the one before. Except it was very different, for it was the room the Aggressive hybrids were kept in. The first hall held hybrids who were in need of owners, that weren't vicious, that never committed crimes. It was very serene in the first hall through the night, now in this one, there were thumps in the walls. 

Claudio was puzzled about the labyrinthine structure. Everywhere there were cubicles built into the walls, with curtains blocking each from view. But Felicity explained it to him, by saying hybrids needed their privacy at night, so they have curtains. She showed him his cubicle, third from the top.

“There is a little ladder if you need it, but the cells are pretty small. I think you'll be able to climb in,” she said, and she was right. Claudio could jump in without the help of his wings.

But she was also right about the smallness of the cubicles. His head touched the roof when he sat upright. It seemed so uncomfortable, but at least there was a thin, white mattress he could rest his head on, and he could stretch his legs without them hitting the other side of the wall. In only seconds, he was asleep, although mentally in discomfort, unable to hear Felicity say what time it was. It was four in the morning.

Four hours later, it was eight. A loud shout echoed through the building, and Claudio jerked awake. Still, he was exhausted, and wished to go back to sleep, eyelids fluttering like delicate butterfly wings. He heard cell doors rattle and bodies leap onto the concrete floor, along with excited yelps, and some grumpy grumbles.

“I know you all want to eat, but first!—” hollered a feminine voice. It belonged to Chanel, but Claudio was so tired last night he couldn't get himself to memorize it. She continued, “We have two new Aggressives!”

Two? Well, last he knew, it was so late at night he couldn't pay attention to anybody besides the sexy employees.

His curtain was shoved open and a commanding shout told him to get up and out of bed, to step down into the scene. So he obeyed, and rubbed his eyes, and fixed his hair. It was not too disheveled, since he didn't get as much sleep as usual. All eyes rested on him, and he felt an evil chill all around. 

Voices hissed unto him, claiming everybody thought he looked ugly this morning, and that nobody would ever like him. He did not dare look up, self-conscious. Paranoid.

“This is Claudio!” Chanel announced, planting a hand on the dragonfly's back.

Claudio looked up to see their reactions at last, and shockingly, nobody appeared displeased. Nobody laughed. Nobody whispered. A girl smiled, but he did not smile in return. Last night, he would have. But he was not so tired anymore.

Then his eyes finally caught it, and standing before him, was somebody he never wished to see again.

Chapter 3: Chapter 2: Unlovable

Notes:

trigger warnings:
implied rape towards end, though not described

Flashy, green hair. As bright as the sun. 

Claudio's head went as light as a drifting feather. It was too early for this, too early to be scared. But he had to say something, for this silence was not going to, could not, go untreated. He did not desire to, just to pretend this second new Aggressive was not real. Nothing felt real, after all. Nothing ever felt real.

“Oh, where have you been? I'm surprised to see you here, chéri,” Claudio's father cooed, and he emphasized the French word because he knew how deeply Claudio despised it. 

It took a load of strength to react, and instead of being bitter, Claudio was upset. Tears sprung to his eyes; he did not know what to do. How could this be? He thought his suffering was over since Chester helped him escape his home. He wished to know the answer to why; why did this happen? Why was Micah here? He would scream the question to the incandescent starlight in agony.

“Don't cry, I know, family reunions are always emotional,” Micah giggled ironically, with a reference of a time when Chester reunited with his mother, who abandoned him when he was a baby, who he never had seen until the age of seventeen. It was just yesterday, before Claudio was arrested. Before they were arrested.

The reference. Anger sprouted in Claudio's heart faster than the way light travels. No, this couldn't be. This was too clear to be a hallucination, too real. A single tear trickled steadily down his cheek as he stared furiously at his father.

“Don't look at me all sad. It's okay. Daddy's here for you,” Micah teased, suppressing a grin. He tauntingly fluttered his big wings, eyes satiated with evil.

“You were never there for me.” Claudio's voice trembled. “You never cared for me. You ruined my body. You tried to kill me. You did a lot of things that hurt me, and—” His voice broke down into helpless sobs. “I-I don't get how w-we meet again after I tried to es-escape you! I tried! I wish you'd leave me alone!”

”Shh, it's oka—”

“Shut up! It can't be okay! I've tried everything to escape you!” Claudio shouted, louder now that the crowd had fled. He shook in his skin in a fiery rage. “I hate you!”

Micah genuinely sounded heartbroken, but it must have been a façade, for the hatred was mutual. “I'm your father.”

“I don't care! I wish you weren't my father! You know I've fucking hated you since you shot Momma!” Claudio cried, and recalled the sound of the series of shots that struck his mother. The blood that shrouded the wooden planks, so dark yet bright in its evidence, that he loathed the color red ever since.

“I shot her for the right reason, honey. Come here. We haven't seen each other in a while and I'm sure you really miss being touched. Is that right, Claudio?” Micah asked mockingly, with knowledge that in his household, Claudio was not allowed physical touch. It had been weeks since he swallowed those pills, and Micah could tell he desperately wanted it. Claudio was always more sensitive without those chemicals in his bloodstream. So, the older dragonfly padded closer with slow steps, and he expected his son to back away, but instead, he stood in place, fury steaming from his ears.

Claudio wanted to laugh, perhaps cry. “Oh, yes, I do want to be touched...” he hissed, and sauntered closer to his father until they were inches apart. “Don't pretend to love me.”

“I've always wished for a better son. It's a shame you took Chester away,” Micah sighed wistfully, and his eyes were filled with longing. “I've wanted him home for years.”

Claudio felt so tense, with stress, rage, paranoia, and constant melancholy. He was so, so tired of being shamed for his existence; it had been this way for years. Never had he loved himself, for he believed his father was right in his words, and he believed the voices were also right.

Micah studied his son as he sat anxiously at the dinner table, the only one there. All of the other kids had finished their meals, even Claudio, but he still had to stay there until he took his medication. With a long sigh, Micah placed a hand on Claudio's shoulder, and growled, “You fucking swallow that right fucking now or I'll beat you.”

“But Momma won't visit me,” Claudio wept, as tears as salty as the ocean splashed onto the floral tablecloth.

“And 'Momma's' fucking dead. She's gone, Claudio. You have to forget about that bitch. Take the pill now before I open your damn mouth and shove it down your throat,” Micah argued.

“She was the only one that ever loved me!”

“Yeah, so why don't you go fuck her? Because everybody hates you! You're not worthy of anybody's love! Nobody should ever love you because nobody deserves to love a fat, fucking whore who does nothing but write stupid, delusional fairy tales all day long! You can't even take care of yourself! I hate you, Claudio, I hate you, I hate you! I wish you weren't my son and I hope you fucking die in a fire!” Micah screamed, then stormed off, stomped off, into his bedroom on the opposite side of the dining room.

Sam was upstairs, and she paused her work on her nails, letting the viscous, bright pink polish drip from the brush. She heard everything. Each time Micah criticized Claudio like that, memorable memories of a childhood with him replayed smoothly in her head. It hurt so badly to hear him cry because of Micah, because of his hallucinations, because of everything, especially after a childhood of play with his sweet older sister, which was her. She agreed with Micah on some things, but this was too far. It was abuse, and she wished she could speak up without the risk of being killed. Sure, Claudio treated Micah like a pile of garbage after his mother's death, however, that was immature, and nothing compared to this. This was pure hatred. Sam was terrified of Claudio's life and feared walking in his world, which was why she shut him away, but it made her want to cry to see how horrible he grew up to be. It was all solely Micah's fault. His fault for Claudio's schizophrenia.

Downstairs, Claudio sobbed silently, his head in his arms, the pill still sleeping on the plate. He wished for death. Desperately.

Claudio wished for death, here and now. Desperately. He clawed his father's shoulders until his knuckles glowed, and sobbed, “Kill me. I want you to kill me right here.”

Micah pushed his son away instead, his hands of hate like a hammer as they manhandled him down, and Claudio felt like a hammer had hammered him in the heart.

With a broken squeak, his eyes fogged up. “I know you want me dead.”

Micah nodded in a cruel approval. “So go kill yourself, because I don't care. Especially after you murdered our owner.”

Claudio wanted to utter an apology, but he was sure Micah would not forgive him. He lingered on the hard, concrete floor, knees pressed against it, tears darkening the shade of gray it was. How could he end his life with nothing here to help him? He could hear his father walk past him, straight into the cafeteria. Claudio was not hungry, especially if he had to eat with the one who he despised most. Perhaps today was the day he started to starve himself until he finally reached death.

His numb gaze then turned up, and gently touched a figure peeking at him behind the wall ahead. It slipped back, and Claudio's antennae cocked in curiosity. He pulled himself from his weak knees, signed shakily, wiped away tears, planted his boots on the concrete. Again, he fixed his hair, and walked forward, with a hope to find out who was spying on him. To find out who cared, or who did not care, who was peeking just to mock him later.

Behind the wall, there was a muscular hybrid, not any bigger than Claudio was. He looked familiar, and Claudio got the feeling that they had met before. By the wings, he could tell he was a bee hybrid, then when his eyes averted to his face, he knew who it was. A boy he used to go to school with. What did he do to get here?

“Jeez, what did you do?” the bee asked, and although the question sounded like a taunt, he clearly did not mean bad intentions in his voice. He nearly sounded caring.

Claudio did not know how to talk to anybody, and stumbled, tumbled over his words. “I, well, Uh- What did you do?”

The bee shrugged. “Assaulted three guys with a guitar.”

“How long are you staying?” Claudio asked. He felt so annoying with the questions.

“Five years. I have four left. What about you?” The bee crossed his big arms.

Claudio looked down guiltily and his voice was soft. “Thirty-eight.”

“What did you do?!” the bee gasped, eyes widening in surprise. 

“I shot my owner, took the responsibility of my brother's crime, which was murdering his mate and her kid, and assaulted a police officer,” Claudio replied. “I only technically murdered one person.”

“Well, that's some commitment to your brother. I hope he loves you. Considering the conversation you had back there,” the bee acknowledged, pointing to the area Claudio and Micah argued in.

“He loves me. He told me that all the time. I couldn't let him come back here so I just lied. He was raped to death.”

“Was your brother Chester?!” the bee nearly shouted. “I'm Travis, by the way. Travis Stever. Who are you again? We went to school together.”

“Claudio,” said the dragonfly. Still, his eyes were aimed at his feet, so he seemed uninterested, but he was desperate for the conversation, because Travis seemed interested in him.

“Claudio, that's right. There were so many rumors about you in school, you know,” Travis mentioned, then grabbed a strand of Claudio's hair to grab his attention with it.

The tug on his curly hair was painful a slight, and Claudio's reply came staggered. “Ah- What- What did they say about me?”

“That you fucked your little brother,” Travis replied with a smirk and a chuckle of disbelief. “I guess some were pretty stupid.”

Claudio's gaze fell to the floor again; he couldn't keep looking, couldn't keep showing his filthy face before these filthy rumors. It was his worst fear, that he would become in an incestuous relationship, especially after those weeks he spent with Chester. His cheeks burned red, he could feel it, could feel himself turn into the color he hated most.

Travis could tell he was shameful, for his wings slowly drooped. His mind began to shift, turn, and the gears in it rotated counterclockwise. “Was it true?”

“No. I'm just hurt people are that harsh about me,” Claudio replied, and his feet pivoted, and his back turned, until it faced itself to Travis. His heart felt battered, shattered, and the pieces clattered onto the floor silently. The rumor was terrible, horrible, but he was so embarrassed that people might truly believe in it. Perhaps that was why everybody hated him.

Still with his eyes on the concrete, he dragged himself to his room, and stealthily climbed the ladder. He wished for sleep to come quick, come in a few seconds, right after his head touched the pillow. His hands shakily gripped the thin, black mattress, and he set himself down on it, shivering without a blanket in the cold air. But his eyes did not dare to shut, despite how much sleep he earned last night.

Travis raced after him, antennae perked up. “I'm sorry. I didn't know how much it meant to you,” he said sorrowfully.

“Don't,” Claudio warned, lips trembling. His throat swelled up and he swallowed, then squeaked, “I'm tired.”

“Okay, I'm sorry. Do you want to talk? You don't seem to be doing well,” Travis acknowledged sweetly, and his voice sounded as if he had never bashed three guys with a guitar.

Claudio wiped away tears before answering, “I need sleep.” And his voice was higher than the clouds.

When Travis turned away, the dragonfly heard a familiar voice fly past his ears, and it tingled its way into his head.

“Hey, baby, it's okay. You don't have to cry. You know I love you,” it said, voice silky.

But Claudio only sobbed harder as a smile graced across his face. “Momma!” he cried, as he turned over, to see a ghostly mother figure knelt beside him. Her featherlight, feather-like fingers eased closer to his arm and he could feel his skin crawl at the contact. “I missed you,” he whimpered, euphorically reaching over to lay his hand atop his mother's, but her face metamorphosed into anguish and she evanesced into the atmosphere.

For a moment, Claudio stared in heartbreak before the tears dribbled like streams nonchalant in motion down his cheeks. Momma, you are all I need, I can't keep going on, he thought gloomily, and buried his head in his arms. Perhaps he will cry himself into slumber.

When he awoke, he felt pretty groggy. There were distant conversations going on, more than there were in the morning during breakfast time. He was unsure if he was still exhausted or not, if he was ready to jump out of bed and start his day for real this time. 

Finally, his eyes started to meander around his cubicle, until they latched onto a slip of lined paper with black ink scribbled all over it. His hand, enveloped in a veneer of sweat thinner than the paper, grabbed the side of the note, and his eyes ran across, left to right, deciphering the ink.

As soon as you wake up, come to the nurse's office. ♡   -Felicity

Claudio did not want to arise from the uncomfortable mattress, especially if the reason was for treatment. His goal was to pass away in the next few days. But he knew his role in this place. An Aggressive, a criminal. Ignoring the note would result in trouble. He stretched, his arms, legs, then sat up to stretch his wings with a hurt grimace, but fortunately the pain was less severe than usual, a result from the injection. He was thankful, although he was hungry for the pain right now, more than ever.

Then, he crawled out of the cubicle with the sliver of paper in his grasp. The world around him then staggered, dithered, and the colors melted together in a pointilistic manner. Claudio sank to the cold ground, head diaphanous, and waited until the world unfolded before his eyes settled and the colors united perfectly. He must've stood up too quickly, but then again, he hadn't been taking care of himself, and the last time he ate was in yesterday's dawn.

He rose to his feet, and slowly walked down the hall again, went left, left again, then admired the serenity of the hall of virtuous hybrids. Dowsed in jealousy, the criminalistic mockery of a bracelet choked his wrist, and he frowned at the word engraved in it, wishing that he wasn't who he was in actuality. The thought of suicide crawled its way into his mind again.

Finally, he arrived at the doorway of the nurse's office, and the nurse greeted him with a friendly beam. She did not look as attractive as she did last night in Claudio's eyes, though she wore makeup today, but he just did not care anymore. There was no point in love if he was going to be dead soon, and besides, he had no luck with girls.

“I'll take that,” Felicity said, sliding the paper out from Claudio's weak hand. She looked up at him, and his poignant expression creased her eyebrows. “I can tell you just woke up, but you look so troubled. Sit down on that bed. I just want to check up on you.”

Claudio fell down onto the bed he was on last night, rubbed his eyes, and checked around the room for daunting figures. Nothing. It was tranquilly quiet, now that the room was clear of people. The voices that often swarmed around his ears didn't have a target to spite him with.

“You look very upset. You look like you're going to cry. Do you want to talk?” Felicity purred, her voice soothing. Claudio shook his head. The nurse squatted down, rested her chin on her patient's knee, and took his hand. “Come on, talk to me. Why didn't you come for breakfast?”

No words, but Claudio looked out into space. Then he flinched at a sudden shout calling him a failure. There it was.

Felicity held his hand tighter. “You were talking to me a lot last night. I can tell you're worried. Are you hungry?”

Claudio was, but he shook his head, still on the path of fatally starving himself to death.

“Do you want to drink something?”

Claudio shook his head again. It was easier to die from thirst.

“Tell me what you want.”

Claudio's voice trembled at the thought. “Momma.”

Felicity stood up and released his hand. “Who is that? Your mother?” she asked softly.

Claudio nodded, and his eyes began to water, so he pulled his fists up to them.

“Can we call her? Do you know her number?”

Claudio sniffled. “She's dead,” he whimpered.

Felicity threw her arms around him, allowed him to sob on her shoulder, rubbed his back. “Oh, I'm so sorry... I didn't know that. Do you want to talk a little about it? That will make you feel better.”

“No,” Claudio wept, and cupped her sylphlike waist in his hands.

“It's okay. I won't make you,” Felicity said, then pulled away when the dragonfly seemed to calm. “Are you just tired? You had a pretty long nap. Four hours, I think. And you missed lunch. Are you sure you aren't hungry? I can bring you a snack.”

“I'm not hungry,” Claudio grumbled, a hint of annoyance obvious.

“You have your brother's attitude. So, can I ask you something? It's a little personal,” Felicity warned, hands behind her back as if she was asking as innocently as a child.

“Go ahead.”

“Would you follow me? You told me you're sexually active last night. We have a worker that mates with hybrids in need of it to reduce sexual frustration,” Felicity explained. 

Fuck, Claudio swore inwardly. He wished he could turn back the clocks to the previous night, just to take back his lie and say no. But he was an Aggressive, a criminal! He could not lie and get away with it.

”Did you go to hybrid school? Do you know what sexual frustration means in hybrids?” 

He knew and nodded. Of course he knew. When a hybrid got too much or too little sex, they became frustrated. But Claudio did not, could not, care. He was not in his breeding season yet. He was nearly too young, though dirty thoughts and reveries drifted across his mind every now and then. But he did not want to mate with somebody who possibly carries ten STDs, a prostitute. 

“Can I say no?” he questioned, eyes wider than before, stirred by panic.

“Well, he needs to because that's how he gets paid,” Felicity answered.

Claudio's heart pounded like it was jumping up and down like a rabbit in his ribcage. This had to be illegal, but he had no choice, the decision was out of his hands. A voice rushed past him, hissing to him that he was stupid. He agreed. Another arrived in the air and admitted he was absurd. And he agreed. 

“But I'm still a boy,” he spat, the fear in his voice audible.

“A lot of hybrids mate at your age.”

Claudio thought of more excuses hastily. “And I have a broken ribcage.”

“Come on, don't make excuses.”

The dragonfly inhaled very deeply and coughed, and his hand soared to his chest in pain. “See?”

Felicity didn't believe him. “No.”

Claudio furrowed his eyebrows in frustration. “Well, I'm infertile anyway.”

“That doesn't mean you can't have sex,” Felicity protested, her face of heartless felicity. “Stand up.”

Claudio obeyed unwillingly, and huffed his last excuse. “I don't want it!”

“Sorry, but that means nothing to him.”

“Oh, fuck you! All of you!” he shouted lividly in a fury as fire licked his body, unaware of what was escaping his throat, though he'd been so cautious in avoiding trouble. 

“You murdered three people and assaulted an officer,” the nurse reasoned.

“So I deserve being raped!” Claudio growled sarcastically. This place was the complete opposite of a blissful paradise, which was what it would be compared to his home; it was more like an abysmal abyss of flames and dungeons. He never wanted to brutally murder himself more than right now.

Felicity slipped her lithe fingers around the mass of Claudio's wristband and pulled him like he was a dog on a leash. “You're just like your brother,” she cooed.

The dragonfly's heart hammered in his chest and his lungs rose and fell heavily, budding a pain in his ribs, and he wished the excuse could still alchemize her mind now. Afraid tears burned in his eyes, his gaze rolled to the floor, his lips quivered. But he did not resist, and continued to let Felicity drag him, for he could not argue. 

Across the nurse's office, there was the main office, with the sofa placed on the left side of the room and desks lined behind the curtained window in the front. The walls were the color of khaki pants, and some paintings lined them, and complemented the picturesqueness of it. Felicity and Claudio treaded through it, into a room built into the back, the manager's office. 

An older, plump lady with blonde hair that had wisps of brown streaks greeted them. She wore the same outfit Chanel wore, navy shirt with black jeans, just a little more sophisticated with a breast pocket. Her desk was palatially designed and there were scattered papers ahead of her. Felicity said hello, then turned into a room on the right.

Claudio immediately pointed his nervous gaze to the handsome man leaning on the bed in front of them. His caramel hair was cropped and longer than the average man's, but shorter than Claudio's was, for his almost dipped down to his shoulders. Instead of the recurring outfit of other employees, this man just wore black jeans and a navy v-neck tank top. In front of the bed, there was a body mirror that reflected the man's beauty. Claudio felt like a mess in comparison to him; his face was rough and he grew a small stubble, and the man's was clear and shaved.

He didn't even realize the nurse left him.

“Hey, I'm Archie,” the man said with a British accent. “Your father's a sex machine. What's your name?”

“Soy Claudio. Mucho gusto,” Claudio stammered before he realized what he had just uttered. And his cheeks grew into the color he hated. “I mean, I'm sorry. I'm Claudio. It's nice to meet you.”

“Is Spanish your first language?” Archie asked, spellbound.

“My mother spoke Spanish and I picked up on it,” Claudio said, his voice trembling in embarrassment. His wings drooped. “I'm sorry. I was nervous.”

“It's alright,” Archie replied, then waved a hand in the air. He stood up and held the collar of Claudio's shirt, and his height engulfed the dragonfly. “So, take this off for me?”

Claudio smirked mischeviously. “No.”

“You seemed very polite when you greeted me. Come on, take off your shirt. Your have no choice,” Archie urged with a smile. 

“No.”

Archie frowned now and started to unbutton Claudio's shirt for him, but only the top. He blushed at his cleavage, the beginning of his lean, young body. “Finish the rest for me, sweetheart.”

“Don't call me that,” Claudio grumbled bitterly, undoing the remaining buttons on his black shirt. “Only girls may call me that. And only girls may see my chest.” His shirt was unbuttoned, but he did not unveil his skin. 

“Sexuality means nothing here. Just sex,” Archie protested, then ripped off the dragonfly's shirt, turned on by his body.

“I'm under the age of eighteen,” Claudio hissed.

“That means nothing either.”

“Then fuck you.”

“So then fuck me.”

“No, fuck yourself. I'm not touching your tiny ass dick.”

“Hey. Watch it.” The man gripped the waistband of Claudio's jeans.

“I'm not watching shit.”

Archie slapped Claudio across his cheek, but it did not hurt him, because Micah's slaps were far more worse.

Claudio almost giggled. “My father slapped my ass harder than that.”

Archie pushed the dragonfly onto the bed roughly, and forced a breathless grunt from his throat. “Oh, you want this...” he puffed, then straddled him, pushing his erection into his crotch roughly. They both still had their pants on, but Claudio's fly was undone.

After a series of coughs, Claudio retorted, “I do want it... If this is giving you an uppercut.”

Archie pinned the hybrids wrists with one hand to block the attack, jerked down his jeans and boxers, before he pushed down his own, freed his hard dick. Claudio closed his eyes in disgust and he had to chuckle. “You ready, sweetheart?”

“No...” Claudio whined, powerless.

Archie took a pair of handcuffs from the headboard and fastened them around the dragonfly's wrists. Then, he took a leash from the other side, tied it to his wristband, fastened it to the pole on the wooden headboard's corner. “You can't move, huh?”

Claudio shook the bed, writhing, making futile endeavors to escape the cuffs. He was stuck. The voices ate him up, calling him stupid, calling him an idiot, criticizing him into a self-loathing whirl, killing him inside his inner washing machine.

Claudio cried out in misery, sobbed, brooded about death. His life was ruined now that he mated with a man against his will, ruined now that Micah was here, studying his every move. Ruined now that he couldn't love. Ruined because he listened to the voices instead of fighting them like a warrior.

Still, he listened to the voices even now, under Archie's dominance. But when he opened his eyes, he saw someone glaring at him so disappointedly, so brokenheartedly.

Staring at him the same way she stared at Micah after he shot her in the heart.

Chapter 4: Chapter 3: Cassiopeia

Reasons Why You Should Not Kill Yourself:

- You're one of the only of your species

- You've only been here for two days

- You're still young

Travis

Claudio had reread the sheet of paper about twenty times and still desired his passing. Not even the thought that somebody who hardly knew him kindly wrote this note encouraged him to live. Somebody cared. But he could not grasp onto that fact, for he had to care about himself first. Perhaps more people than he thought cared about him, cleared a space in their hearts for him, so he recollected each and every one of them who did, sticking up fingers as he counted silently. 

Chester. Felicity. Travis. Sam, although she had her annoyed moments as an older sister. His school counselor, who helped him with his grades because Micah would not. Then, his mind went blank, a bottomless vacuum clear of thoughts. Out of every person he met in his lifetime, everybody in elementary, middle, and high school, everybody in this prison, everybody who once saw the suffering in his expressions, only five people cared.

Five people.

His hand dropped and he sighed, then he rolled back over on his back against the mattress. Contemplated life and death. 

They're all faking.

Claudio did not have the patience for the voices around him, but he believed them. Everybody was faking their love, the section in their hearts black for him, instead of the pink he daydreamed.

Even your Momma.

He knew. He broke her heart, shot it again with his foolish actions, anyhow.

Arms folded across his chest, eyes aimed soullessly at the ceiling, he remembered last night. After Archie was finished with him, he stormed off fearfully into a kitchen. Equipped the sharpest knife in sight. Made an attempt to slice the skin on his wrists. It did work, but did not leave deep wounds that would later kill him. Travis walked in because he saw him run in. Asked if he was alright. Claudio cried instead of answering.

Then, when the sun rose up again and the new dawn held them all, the bee slid a note under the dragonfly's curtain thoughtfully. 

“I'm still sorry, Momma,” Claudio uttered into the empty atmosphere. “Now will you forgive me?”

“Just talk to me!” Travis chirped from the cubicle below.

“I wasn't talking to you.”

“I know. But I want you to reach out.”

“Yeah, well, what do you want to hear? I can only tell you that my mother hates me,” Claudio snapped with a rude tone in his voice. He felt like crying every time his mother sailed through his shattered mind, plagued his thoughts, plagued his memories. 

Travis steered him away from the road leading to the thoughts of his mother. “What do you want to know about this place? Do you like it?”

“I hate it here! I'd be fine if my father was not here or if that fucking gay whore didn't rape me,” Claudio grumbled. But was it better for Chester to come here, sweet, charming Chester? It was not.

“God, I hate Archie. I wish we had a choice. He's always saying, 'Oh, but this is how I get paid!' Isn't it so stupid? He cares about his damn money more than his hybrids. Then you have Felicity, who is even nice to fuckin' Elias,” Travis complained, rambled, interested in the dragonfly, wishing to know him better.

“Felicity is on the list of one of the five people who care about me. Who is Elias?” Claudio fidgeted anxiously as he spoke.

“A lion that has a life sentence for raping three girls individually, one of them under eighteen, having two orgies that consisted of four girls that didn't consent, kidnapping a young teen then forcing her to masturbate and filming it, uh...” Travis explained. “That's all.”

Claudio's eyes were filled to the brim with horror, though no one could see. “I thought I was bad.”

“Murder is pretty bad too, though. You lied anyway, so it doesn't really matter much,” Travis said. “So, um, you saw that paper, right?”

“Yeah,” mumbled Claudio softly, guiltily.

“Last night you were crying and saying you didn't have the strength to live. Do you want help?” Travis offered as sweetly as the honey from his ancestors.

“I'll be okay. It's just been a big change, that's all,” Claudio answered numbly. And in his fidgeting, he accidentally tore off a dark scab on his wrist, with his nail as it ran up and down his itching forearms. Blood seeped out slowly and he admired the view as if it were a flower-filled, faunal field of fawns and frogs in bogs of freshwater. 

“I understand,” Travis croaked. Inside of his cubicle, he did not do much, for he did not have any pieces of entertainment. He was doing what Claudio was doing, fidgeting as he spoke.

“Why do you care about me?” Claudio purred as he wiped the redness, the ghastly color, on his black mattress, which absorbed the terror. But more blood began to creep out of his skin, blobbed then dripped, left trails of red down his wrists.

“Well, no one really pays attention to anyone in misery. I remember it happened to me, and I don't want to be hypocritical and treat you like how they treated me. No one just seemed to care. I want you to have someone who cares,” Travis reasoned reasonably. 

“Why me? I bet there are more people in here with inner struggles,” Claudio said, and terrified, he brought his bleeding arm to his lips which were parted even after talking, and thrust his tongue over the crimson nick on his wrist, and let the irony taste veil him. 

Travis shrugged below the dragonfly which he could not see. “I guess I only care for those who don't treat others like shit. Or—”

“Murder is treating people like shit,” Claudio interrupted.

“You have a point, but I mean in here. I don't care for the crimes we committed. Assaulting people with a guitar is treating people like shit, too. I'm saying how we act towards each other,” Travis continued.

“So fight against it. Don't let it happen, do something,” Claudio suggested, and still, he licked his blood in a panic. It did not stop, and the taste in his mouth was repulsive, so he concluded that he was not going to let this happen. He had to do something. 

Travis looked up quickly as he heard the dragonfly shift in the cubicle above him, then jump off into the hall. “Where are you going?” the bee asked.

“I figured I have to listen to myself first. I'm bleeding. I can't let it happen,” Claudio said. 

No, bleed. Let yourself bleed to death.

“Actually, maybe I'll be okay,” he decided, and gave into the voices, gave into what was worse for him. So he turned around, climbed the ladder again with a weary expression, flopped onto the mattress. It was beginning to get loud again.

Bleed yourself dry.

“No,” Claudio moaned, and to anybody it sounded as if he spoke to the heavy walls. 

Bleed!

He heard Travis mutter something, but his ears could not catch it. As he rolled over onto his back, he whimpered, desperate for peace. Then he turned again. And again. Tossing and turning.

Bleed! Bleed! Bleed yourself out!

There were so many. . .

You deserve this! Bleed yourself dry! Momma wants you to!

Momma wanted him to, and he listened to Momma, so he scratched his scabbed wrists ferociously, opened the wounds, dug his fingers in. Peeled, ripped. . .

If you bleed a puddle here, she'll visit!

“Momma...” Claudio was sobbing now, hiccuping. Travis was speaking but there were too many voices going on simultaneously, and he could only focus on the worse.

Momma hates you.

“No, she...” Claudio's voice trailed off, because what if they were right, and Momma despised him? He recalled the look she threw at him yesterday, that pierced his heart like a machete. She was so disappointed. How could he have done that in front of her virginal eyes?

Momma hates you.

It was all he could hear that he lost focus on bleeding. . .

Momma hates you.

Why did you stop? Bleed!

He obeyed, bled, cried. . .

Momma hates you so much.

There were too many, and he sobbed, “Please help me.”

*****

Travis's hand pushed a ragged cloth against the crying dragonfly's wrists. “I'm helping you like you asked. Don't cry—”

Hey, baby, it's okay. You don't have to cry—

Claudio waited eagerly for the last sentence, but it was lost in a void of hate. Say the “I love you” part, please tell me you love me.

Finally, he squeaked. “I'm sorry, I-I'm just really scared.”

“I know. Felicity will be here soon to help you,” Travis assured gently. Claudio was sitting at the edge of a hospital bed in the nurse's office, Travis in front him on his knees. Waiting for Felicity to come in felt perpetual, but then again, she was the only nurse in the entire facility, and she only had two hands and two legs, only had one place to be in. The two insects were told she was helping a girl who uncontrollably cried and shook because Elias walked in on her nakedness and freaked her out. 

“May I introduce you to some of the prisoners here?” Travis asked, in hopes of distracting Claudio from his struggles. 

Claudio nodded.

So the bee nodded to a few patients in the four blue walls that closed them in. The first was a cat hybrid named Zander. “He is... Well, you have to say he's a kitten, not a cat, or he gets mad. And he's gay. So don't look at him for too long if you're into girls, or he gets a hard on for you. He already dated Elias. And he always wears girly clothes. All because he's a cat he does this, since I guess cats are such girly animals.”

Claudio stared at the cat in a spellbound horror, with no intention for getting attention. He wore a pink crop top and panties so tight his dick looked like it was going to bust a hole through it. Why was he even looking? It was a trap. The dragonfly somehow managed to turn his gaze away, but the image lingered in his brain. “Can't he dress more appropriately?”

“Sh! He'll get mad!” Travis warned in a whisper.

“He's sensitive, then,” Claudio said, and when he glanced back at the cat, he was staring right back at him. An uncomfortable feeling washed over him, the hair on his neck stood erect, he looked away again, frightened.

Travis's eyes were widened, and they shared the same fear as Claudio's. His lips quivered, but it did not look like he was near tears, it looked like he was going to laugh. Then he hissed, “Damn, so you must be cute.”

He's looking at the best place to stab you.

“Oh, I'm sure he doesn't think that,” Claudio dismissed, listening, believing.

Travis hurriedly glimpsed at the cat, as the cat's lips parted, his hand shifted, moved to his inner thigh. “Okay, 'cute' was an understatement. You're hot. Also, I think we should get out of here.”

“Next person!” Claudio was not looking, but Travis indirectly told him, by his face and by his words, that Zander was feeling naughty. 

Travis, still terrified, stammered out the name of a ferret hybrid. “Th-That's Serena. She is not an Aggressive, so isn't Zander, and she's very sweet. Nobody has a problem with her, but she's judgemental at times.”

She thinks you're a fat, fucking whore who writes stupid, delusional fairy tales.

Claudio took a few seconds out of his time to admire her beauty; soft and long brown hair that was thinner than Felicity's, a small nose, big eyes that shade of chocolate. A white dress acted as a comfortable blanket around her body and married her lacy socks. 

Every girl is too pretty for you.

You're so ugly.

Travis took Claudio's distraught silence as a reason to move on. “Behind us is Raphael, a rat, not a mouse hybrid. He's always sick. And he's a little shy.”

And those were all of the hybrids aside from them in the nurse's office. Claudio paid no attention to anyone anymore, for the voices were so loud, so distracting. But he fixed his impatient gaze on the doorway, longed for Felicity's care, and shut the world away, shut the reality away, focused on his needs. Despite Travis's endeavors, he still needed help. The medications crossed his mind, but he was still unsure if he wanted to see Momma or not, and she was the only reason he did not take his pills.

As he peered into the doorway, into nothingness, eventually two feminine figures appeared in his hazy world, stealing his attention. One of them was Felicity, who wore a caring smile on her face, and the other was a girl, shorter than her, but almost the same height. 

She was so beautiful Claudio didn't care about Serena. And she was so beautiful that she could vaunt that she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs, the Nereids, and she would not be conceited, she would be right. She would not make Poseidon angry with the truth. 

Travis told him that her name was Cassiopeia.

“Oh, hello, Claudio,” Felicity greeted him. Cassiopeia looked at him, gorgeous, astral eyes red and puffy. The nurse rested a hand on her shoulder, and stole her attention. “Cassiopeia, please sit on the bed in the far right. I'll be right with you.”

“Okay,” the girl stammered. She tossed her chestnut hair back, and commenced her gait to the hospital bed in the corner of the room.

Felicity's heels clicked against the floor as she strolled over to the two boys. “Thank you,” she said to Travis, then turned to Claudio. “So, can you tell me what happened?”

Claudio's eyes dropped to the floor. He did not tell her anything.

“You know, you're a very hard person to talk to,” said Felicity. She took the bloodstained towel sleeping on Claudio's tender wrists and rested it beside him. And she seemed disturbed at what was laid in front of her. “Claudio, please tell me what's wrong.”

Everybody is watching you.

Claudio still did not look at her. He wanted to speak, but his lips did not move.

Felicity grabbed the towel and wiped more of the blood. “What made you wanna do this, hm?”

“I don't know,” Claudio replied.

“Oh, you know.”

“I don't. I heard 'bleed' so I bled."

“Who told you that?”

“I don't know.”

“Okay, that's okay,” Felicity purred, then spun around to her sink and drawers. She opened one, plucked out a roll of bandages, closed the drawer. Then, she turned the handle that ran the faucet of the sink. “Claudio, wash your hands.”

Claudio glared at the red on his wrists; it was such a disgusting, terrible color, that threw at him the awful memories of his childhood. But his hands looked as if he had just murdered somebody (again), with the parasitic crimson color dressing his calloused fingertips, eating the pink hue of them, crawling under his nails. He recalled the warm feeling of painting them, shoving them into the wounds like they were finger paint, stretching his skin apart as his tears of salt splashed onto them, burning them.

Why was this his blood? It would look so pretty as Micah's.

Finally, he stood up, and walked over to the sink, outstretched his arms. The water invited him, called his name, and he put his bloodied hands under, letting the water clean his mess, destroy the worst color, sting his wrists when it crept down there. Felicity startled him, stretching over for the sweetly scented soap and siphoning some onto his hands.

“Rub it in,” she commanded.

Claudio did not realize how much of a mess he was until he acknowledged the fact that he needed help washing his hands. He squished his hands together, and summoned a pinkish bubbly catastrophe as he rubbed the soap in. Most of the blood was gone now, the rest hidden in the bubbles. Felicity guided his hands under the water again, and he watched his his least favorite color buried itself down the drain, forever gone. The nurse turned off the water and handed him a clean towel, which he dried himself with.

“Shower later, please,” Felicity told him. “Especially after your time with Archie yesterday.”

Claudio thought of what he loved most, Chester, guitars, fiction, just to block out the image, the memory, of when the prostitute used him the afternoon before. When Momma stared him so brokenheartedly, her eyes full of disappointment as she watched her son's innocence wilt. But it was so disturbing, so troubling, that nothing could make him forget about it.

“Okay?” Felicity urged.

Claudio only nodded. He looked around for Travis, but the bee must have left after viewing his horrible state. His antennae drooped.

The nurse stole the towel from him and left it in a jumbled pile on the counter. “Okay. Hold up your wrists.”

A memory hit Claudio like a train, and he saw an attractive girl standing before him, her breasts screaming his name, her black hair reminding him of. . .

Don't think of her, Claudio scolded himself.

And still, he didn't hold up his wrists.

Felicity grabbed his wrists for him, and he expected the grasp to be hard, but it was gentle. “You seem very troubled again,” she said, and wrapped Claudio's wrists in a white bandage like he was a mummy. “Do you want to eat something?”

Claudio shook his head a few seconds later when he understood the question.

“Come on. I know you're scared of your father. But you're going to have to eat in the same room with him. Lunch time is in ten minutes. You're strong, I know you are,” Felicity encouraged. “You must be hungry. You'll feel better once something is in your stomach.”

Claudio didn't care.

“What do you want to do for the next ten minutes? I have to check up on Cassiopeia,” Felicity asked, but Claudio shakily slipped his hand in hers.

“I want to stay with you,” he stammered.

Felicity's heart was gently touched and she barely knew how to react. Her thumb caressed her patient's hand. “Okay, well, um... Come here. Cassiopeia is just frightened, it's nothing big. You may help me calm her down if you can. She's a very anxious girl.”

Claudio's antennae perked up. “I can do that,” he said like a cocky child. But he perhaps could not. He only desired for time together with someone so pretty.

Felicity walked the dragonfly over to the bed in the corner, where the girl sat, weeping, and released his hand at last.

Claudio smiled warmly at Cassiopeia, but that was all he could do. Oh, fuck, he thought in defeat. Where should he start?

Felicity looked to her left at Zander, who was still gawking at Claudio, and shuffled over to his bed. “Okay, Claudio, I have to help someone else.”

But Claudio was looking back at Zander with an uncomfortable glare, not at the patient he was supposed to be helping. Right into his lustful eyes. Stabbing a dagger through his heart with his cold gaze. And finally, the cat stopped staring, so the dragonfly shifted his eyes to Cassiopeia.

Cassiopeia crossed her legs in a cheeky manner and bounced her ankle up and down. “He's weird, huh? He takes being gay too far.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Claudio mumbled. “So Elias, um...”

“He's a creep!” Cassiopeia exclaimed. Tossed her chestnut hair back again. “He's hungry for sex and it's all he wants.”

“Well, are you okay?” Claudio asked kindly.

Cassiopeia shrugged her little shoulders. “I guess. I was just startled. I'm sorry you had to see me cry,” she apologized as Claudio squatted down in front of her.

“If it makes you feel better, I cried in front of everybody yesterday,” he chuckled, and reached out for her hand. She did not take it, but she hummed in response.

Don't make this about yourself, you selfish little whore.

Claudio's antennae drooped at the sudden voice in the air and he looked away.

“I'm sorry,” Cassiopeia apologized again after she watched the movement of the two black sticks that poked out of his head. “I don't hold the hands of people I haven't met.”

“I-It wasn't that,” Claudio affirmed, and ran his hands over his face, embarrassed. He was not having a chance with her, and that was that.

She hates you.

This was the worst time to deal with the voices, when Cassiopeia was trying to ask him something, and he could hardly process the question, could not even focus. Then she displayed her impatience, and crossed her arms, exactly how Momma always did. His heart was smashed into thousands of tiny shards that she was yet to step in.

Momma hates you, remember?

Claudio swallowed a knot in his throat and finally met eyes with Cassiopeia. “I'm sorry, I-I'm messing everything up, I understand if you... If you don't want me here.”

Felicity overheard and intervened, her hands on Zander's back. “Claudio, be nice to yourself. What's going on?”

Cassiopeia replied first, an attitude in her snap. “He's helping. Trying, I mean. I'm not so frightened anymore, I'm distracted. I think he's—

—terrible at this. He can't do anything right. He's such a failure. He should just give up.”

Claudio's wings fell with his antennae and he gazed, crestfallen, into Cassiopeia's deceiving expression, a smile plastering her face, squeezing her soft eyes.

“What? Did I say something?” Cassiopeia asked him, genuinely bewildered, for she said was that he was persistent and strong.

“I'm going crazy.” Claudio stood up quickly and frantically searched for a direction to turn in, cheeks burning as if there was a wildfire beneath his skin. “You didn't do anything, I think, I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I'm not angry, I'm not upset, I'm just— just— I'm sorry.”

Cassiopeia rose to her feet just as Claudio stepped forward, on his way to leave the room, and she stretched her arm out. Her hair jumped with her. “Wait! It's okay!”

Claudio's steps grew faster, panicked with him. “It's not okay. Nothing is okay. I'm crazy. I'm sorry.”

He turned into the hall, and laughter boomed over him like lightning and thunder. So he ran across, breaths heavy, escaping the torturous hall as the rooms beside him blended together and bounced in his moving vision. A sudden shout in a tiger's roar triggered him to trip and stumble onto the concrete, and the impact sprouted an old pain in his broken rib. He whimpered in pain, rose from the floor steadily, heart racing. But his eyes widened as dark, amused shadows dauntingly crawled over to him, ready to eat him, laughing, mocking.

His mother ghosted through the shadows, and immediately, he gasped, tears burning in his eyes. “Momma, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sorry, sor—” His words and apologies were lost in a jumbled mess of sounds and sobs, and his vision was blurry in front of his tears. “I said I— I'm sorry— I miss when— When you—”

Travis was watching him from behind the corner again, his own antennae drooped.

“When you loved me...” Claudio cried, breathless, close to fainting.

The bee hurried over to him and knelt down swiftly, stabbed by the dragonfly's pain like they shared the same knife. “Claudio, breathe, breathe, please,” he demanded, voice pacifying, but when he tried to touch him, his hand was slapped away. “What do you see right now?”

“M-Momma...” Claudio puffed. His mother took another step closer, and he whimpered in a short-winded way like a puppy, hugged Travis tightly in fear, trembling, breaths so quick they were shallow, asphyxiating.

Travis looked down the hall, and saw Felicity and Cassiopeia creeping closer, other hybrids behind them. It must be lunch time.

Cassiopeia darted over to them, her hair bouncing with every step, her feet pounding against the floor. “Claudio! You didn't do anything wrong!” she cried, her voice hitching at every step.

Claudio's nails dug into the back of Travis's shirt and he sobbed. “Cassio... I'm sorry...”

Cassiopeia pressed her bare calves against the cold concrete, fought to catch her breath. “It's okay. I'm not angry—”

“I'm just—”

“I know. Felicity told me what was wrong. Do you want me to walk you to the cafeteria? Will that make you happy?” Cassiopeia offered sweetly.

Contentment swallowed him before the shadows, and the darkness slowly faded into the atmosphere and Claudio watched as his mother disintegrated with them. “Bye, Momma,” he whispered wistfully, then looked at Cassiopeia, and struggled to keep eye contact. “I would love to. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Cassiopeia smiled and pried Claudio's hand from Travis's shirt. They stood up in unison, warm hands locked together. 

“Am I not a stranger?” Claudio stammered, admiring the hand holding.

“I don't want you to be a stranger,” Cassiopeia answered, and squeezed his shaky hand tighter. She was the one who took a step first, leading the dragonfly to the cafeteria. 

Claudio blushed, but the rosy color was already there from when he cried. He wished Cassiopeia could see it, see that he loved her, see that he adored her care, but she was not looking at him, anyhow. Perhaps he was only thinking positively too much, and she did not love him back; she only cared. Besides, he would never have a chance with someone as beautiful as her. Nothing good was going to happen to him, ever.

Cassiopeia wore her own blush, though, like Claudio's love was tangible, fingering her heart. But her skin naturally had a pink lustre to it in general, hence her species, a rosy maple moth hybrid. And unfortunately, Claudio thought the blush was loving. 

A boy around his age, around Cassiopeia's age, waved to the moth, then hooked his fingers, stretched his thumbs out, connected the shapes on each hand, making a heart shape. Cassiopeia released the dragonfly's hand to create the exact same shape in his direction with a smile that curved her smooth, full lips flawlessly. Their love radiated between their hands and smiles, and Claudio's lonely hand went cold.

He was merely starting to explore what simple emotion turned man into beast.

Notes:

fun fact: cassiopeia is based after a shabutie song !!

Chapter 5: Chapter 4: Fever

Notes:

dub con warning!!!!!!!

Jealousy.

The illuminating moon climbed over the horizon after the blazing sun hiked down and took its light with it, washing lassitude over every soul within the Pound. The dark night opened the gates of everybody's melatonin, however, one particular creature missed the night's gentle and imperceptible touch, and that was Claudio.

The past two days had been rough, and though the dragonfly could not sit still for tomorrow, he was very restless, and a yawn never slipped through his lips yet. He ate today, twice, lunch and dinner, but the table he sat at was so unforgiving that his appetite was reaped both times. Those hours passed, but he could still faintly hear the laughing of his father as he spoke to acquaintances about his many experiences mating and breeding, the subject he was mostly proud of, becoming the cynosure of the room just by his sonorous voice. Claudio could still feel the anger tingle and bubble in his heart, ready to boil as Cassiopeia and her date found him amusing, found his abuser funny, like sadists.

Now, the dragonfly paced around the storage room and circled Cassiopeia, the moth hybrid who he thought he loved, who he thought loved him. He felt her fright that raised goosebumps on her soft, pale skin, twisting his jealous stomach like he was being burned by her ultraviolet rays of fear.

“Claudio, you're scaring me,” she whimpered.

Claudio's boots tapped the floor with a tread almost the sound of a horse's hoof, and he could not stop moving. When he was behind her, he said, “Did you know that dragonflies grab the necks of females around this time of the year?”

Cassiopeia's eyebrows tensed and she stepped forward, eager to escape through the door ahead of her, shouting her name. But Claudio saw her foot lift from the ground, and in an instant, his hand was curled around her shoulder.

And he bit her neck, and she cried out as his penetrating teeth sunk into her, “Claudio!”

Claudio's gums throbbed after he pulled himself away from her skin, leaving such a harsh bite mark that glowed red with blood soon to come out. He blew out a shaky exhale onto her bare neck and sent shivers he could feel himself down her spine. 

At this point, he did not know how he was feeling. He did not know how this was going to play out in the end. Whether or not she was going to end up dead he did not know. He knew nothing. He could not think.

His hands were stabilizing her, she was beginning to cry, he breathed down her neck soullessly, and he still could not think of anything.

“You need help,” Cassiopeia sobbed, her bones trembling. “D-Do you want me to bring you to the nurse?”

Claudio did not answer.

Cassiopeia tried again, in a short sentence potentially easier to comprehend. “Do you want the nurse?”

Claudio shook his head. “I'm not done.”

“Done with what?”

“You.”

Cassiopeia sniffled. “I'm an innocent girl.”

Claudio pressed their bodies together, resting his head on her shoulder from behind. Butterflies danced in his stomach as his crotch collided with her body. “Could you love me more?” he asked, his voice lustful, and the dark spots in each of his eyes bursted and filled his irises.

“I have a boyfriend,” Cassiopeia growled. Claudio tightened his grasp on her angrily.

“I'm better,” he grumbled.

Cassiopeia had to admit that his body felt nice against hers, and for a moment, she was perfidious, and she wanted him. Her boyfriend had never in his life gave her attention like this, and she never realized how delightful it felt. Perhaps in this storage room, a room nobody ever bothered to go in, she would be safe in secret if she fucked Claudio.

Claudio could smell her decision, and he did not even know himself if he wanted what she wanted. He was too young, was he not? The moth's scent filled his nose, filled his mind, and he was controlled in a manipulative manner.

Cassiopeia muttered in a broken whisper, “I think I want you.”

Now it was Claudio's turn to decide. But he was so young. . .

“Or do you want to go to the nurse's office?”

Claudio's breaths were heavy in wanting, his heart thumped thunderously, his groin stirred. It was a better idea to go to the nurse's office and calm himself down, but he wanted this so badly. . .

Cassiopeia held the dragonfly's hand on her shoulder and shivered again as his parted lips let through a hot, shaky breath down her neck. “He'll never know.”

Claudio could hardly control himself any longer, and he bucked his hips against Cassiopeia's ass with a whimper. “Fuck, I—”

“It's okay. Do it.”

“I'm young. Fuck, oh, fuck, but I want—”

“It's okay. Do it.”

“I shouldn't, this is wrong— fuck!" He rocked his hips, pleased himself. “We can't! I'm— fuck, fuck— I— oh, Cassio...”

Cassiopeia cherished the sounds of his moans in her ear. “Shh, you're okay.”

“Mmm... Please... Take me... To the nurse...”

Cassiopeia could not even contain yourself, but she could see Claudio was going to regret this, so she pulled away, at least tried, with the dragonfly's nails in her shirt. “Let go, I'm taking you... God, you feel nice.”

“I want more...” Claudio moaned.

“Shh,” Cassiopeia hushed him, turned to him, brushed his hair back to see his lascivious gaze and his flushed cheeks. “Some other day, maybe. You need help. Now.”

Claudio could feel his heart beating against his chest and could hear it in his ears, could feel himself throb. It was difficult not to reach for her hips, just to pull her closer, just to fuck her. He wanted it so badly, more than any other time, after years of wondering what it felt like without being horny. It was so hard to stare into her eyes sanely. 

Cassiopeia glanced down at his crotch, admired the bulge that stirred her pussy into a sinful pulsing, quickly looked back at him and said, “So, how old are you?”

“I'm fifteen,” Claudio replied, his voice breathy.

“I'm sixteen,” Cassiopeia answered herself with a shrug. She stole the dragonfly's sweaty hand. “Come on. If you don't want what I want, then you have to follow me.”

Claudio's antennae fell and a troubled look plastered his face like it always did. He did not understand what he wanted, if he wanted to fuck her, if he wanted to sleep, to eat, to write fiction. But if he fucked her, soothed himself, would his mother come back with the same, crestfallen expression as before? She was oddly enough the last person he wished to see.

Cassiopeia urged him, tugged his hand. “He'll never know we did it.”

Claudio sighed with the shake of his head and began to saunter past her, their hands still tied together, pulling her with him. “I'm still young. I guess I'll think about it. I'm sorry.”

“I understand,” said Cassiopeia.

“I don't understand why you like that hybrid more than me. I'm better than him. I know it. I know all the tricks in bed, and I bet he won't satisfy you like I do,” Claudio protested.

Cassiopeia sassily folded her arms across her chest and softly scoffed, in disbelief. “Then show me what you can do best from the top of you head,” she encouraged teasingly.

Claudio did not think of what to do immediately, so he excused himself. “My mind is slow.” Then, he thought, kept thinking, fighting the inner barrier between his thoughts and his voices, and nearly gave up. He was such a liar. He was infertile.

“You must be a virgin,” Cassiopeia retorted caustically. 

Bitterness burned in the blood beneath Claudio's skin, boiled, bubbled, eager to burst. He bared his teeth behind his lips, huffed vaguely, balled his hands into fists. Who was her boyfriend? He was going to kill him once he got his hands on him, just to have Cassiopeia. If she was not a virgin either, they would lose their virginity together, no matter what.

Cassiopeia stepped back the second she observed the vicious anger in his eyes. “I'm a virgin, too. Don't be upset.”

Claudio cooled only a few degrees. “Who do you want to take your virginity from you? You can only chose one, you know. If I were you,” Claudio's voice melted into a hiss, “I'd choose me.”

Cassiopeia was required to utter the truth. “My boyfriend, I'm sorry.”

Claudio was now a beast. He threw himself at the moth in a fit of rage, tackled her, let the thump of her head colliding with the floor ring out. He latched onto her neck with his teeth, growled like a mean dog. “Oh, fuck him!” He pinned her wrists with one powerful claw. “Me, me, me! Choose me!”

Cassiopeia screamed, piercing the dragonfly's ears, tried to writhe and thrash under him. “Stop it! You aren't mine!”

“I will be! I will be yours!” Claudio shouted, and licked the repulsive blood from her neck. “You're making me feel so fucking naughty and it hurts. I've never felt this way before... I've never wanted someone so badly. Please, fuck me!"

“I changed my mind! I want my boyfriend, not you! Your— You're a maniac!” Cassiopeia cried, tears running down the sides of her face, soaking in her hair. “Go jerk off somewhere! Leave me a-alone! I hate you!”

Claudio's heart shattered and he swore he could feel it. The shards sank into his stomach, rocketed through his bloodstream, burned through his veins. 

She hates you.

Kill her. 

Momma will love you if you kill her.

Rape her.

Murder her.

Claudio bit down on her neck, whimpered in arousal, straddled her thighs and dug his clothed dick into her crotch. Then he thrust, letting out soft purrs and grunts of pleasure, muffled through her skin. The moth's hand pulled his curly hair, but his grip on her neck was too strong, that she was only hurting herself instead of saving herself. His thrusts grew harder, more stimulating, shaking his wings. A spark of excitement ignited in his blood when it happened, for he was finally feeling as a hybrid, and he thrust faster in response.

The door of the storage room creaked open, and a dehumanizing shout from a rough, feminine voice echoed through the room, hopped off of each wall. “Bad hybrid! Off of her, now! Bad! Bad!”

Claudio's heart fell in panic, and startled, he rolled off of her and planted himself on his knees. Nicole was standing ahead of him, a whip in her hand and a long chain. He nearly fainted in fear.

You've lost control.

“Oh, you're such a bad hybrid...” Nicole chuckled, walking closer to the dragonfly, who began to shrink into a cowering position. “Cassiopeia, get out of here. I'll take care of him.”

Claudio felt warm tears in his eyes. How could he do such a horrible thing to someone so beautiful? Why did he listen to the voices around him? Cassiopeia would never stomach what he did to her soul ever. She was the closest to love he ever had, and he lost her. It was his own fault. As he watched the moth storm through the door, a tear trickled down his ragged cheek.

Failure.

Nicole unraveled the whip threateningly as she approached him. Abruptly, she brutally smacked him against his side, and he whined in pain. “Shut up!” she yelled, then whipped him over and over again until he was paralyzed in terror, shivering, whimpering. Then, she knelt down, dropped her weapon, and interrogated him. “Why did you do that to her?”

Claudio's voice was shaky, high and broken, and it hardly came out complete. “I don't know—”

“Look at me and tell the truth!”

Claudio struggled to force himself to look into her furious eyes. He attempted to answer, but only sobs and blabbering managed to come out as he hyperventilated. His mouth filled with saliva as he cried, his jaw tense. 

Nicole sighed deeply. If she wanted him to answer, she had to calm herself down first, despite how greatly she wanted to punish and scream at him. She kept a stern tone of voice. “Breathe. You have to tell me.”

Claudio was drowning in his oceanic tears, his head became diaphanous, his face grew bright red. His limbs trembled heavily, and his breaths were so shallow, shallow as the ocean's edge, that they could choke him paradoxically. He could not handle the eye contact, and he was looking away into space. And he did not answer her.

Nicole supposed she was going to have to tell him about his consequences beforehand. “Calm down. You have to answer a few questions. Then we'll either take you to the nurse's office or Archie's, then you're going to go straight to bed with your room barred shut and locked. So, will you please answer me?”

Claudio had to hold his head up to keep himself from passing out, and Nicole could see this, so she held his head between her plump palms.

“Relax,” she commanded, her voice dulcet instead of mean now. “I will not hurt you for your answer, if that's what you're worried about.”

This pacified Claudio lots, and he deeply exhaled, but how could he trust her? The answer still escaped his lips against his will. “They made me.”

“Who?”

“I don't know!” Claudio's voice cracked.

Nicole frowned. “Do not yell at me. Next question. Did she consent?”

“At first she did, but I guess she changed her mind,” Claudio replied, and he sounded undoubtedly heartbroken, with his quivering voice and melancholic, naïve tone.

“How long were you doing that?”

“I'd say less than a minute,” Claudio said. He seemed close to calming down, but his breathing was still jagged.

“Did you ejaculate?” 

“No.” He was infertile anyhow, so it would not matter if he did or not.

“Good. Now, you're going to make a promise with me,” Nicole said. “Are you going to do that again?”

”No, ma'am, I'm sorry.”

“Good. Tell me where you want to go. The nurse's office or Archie's? He'll relieve you,” Nicole asked, withdrew the long chain from her back pocket, found the end with the snap hook on it, waited patiently for an answer.

“I want help,” Claudio replied dubiously.

Nicole shook her head. “That doesn't answer my question. Where do you want help?”

“I want help,” the dragonfly repeated himself gloomily, and rested his cheek on his knees.

“Nurse's office?” Nicole asked, puzzled.

“I don't know.”

Nicole sighed and lightly grabbed the hybrid's neck, then fastened the hook to his belt-like collar. “Usually I have to get collars for hybrids, but you have your own,” she commented. “If you need it, then are you always like this?”

“It's a fashion statement,” Claudio answered, wiping away a random tear.

“Oh, okay. Do you want to go to the nurse's office?” Nicole tried again.

Claudio didn't answer. He did not know why he could not answer it, such a simple question. Felicity was waiting for him in there all the time, willing to help him, but she would never forgive him for this. She cared about him. He did not want to lose her trust, but was Cassiopeia in there with her? The moth must have wanted to kill him now, burn him perhaps, crush him flat like he was an empty soda can. There was no way he could try to win her back. She hated him just like everybody else did.

*****

Eventually, Nicole realized that Claudio, in the condition he was in, he was unaware of reality, so stuck in his head, that he was never going to budge or give her a direct answer. She had lifted him onto his feet and dragged him to the nurse's office with the chain leash. Then she told Nurse Felicity what had happened, and the nurse was beyond angry. Her caring tone died when she spoke to him, and she did not try to soothe him anymore. Claudio felt so heartbroken.

Now, he was sitting on the bed, the other end of his chain hooked onto a ring on the headboard. Cassiopeia was in the opposite corner of the room, on the same bed she was on earlier. Zander was still uncomfortably in here, but Claudio paid little attention to him.

Felicity pulled out a bottle of pills, and Claudio immediately knew what they were after having a whole childhood drenched in them. The hormone destroyers that sickened him with a fever. He clutched the bottom of his shirt and pulled it to his mouth, covering his lips, shielding himself from the poison. 

The nurse roughly pulled his hands away, and his shirt draped over his stomach. “You're acting like a little kid. You have to take these if you don't want to feel the way you do.”

“I do want to feel like this!” Claudio lied, his voice shaking with anger.

“Then go see Archie!” Felicity ordered pointlessly.

“No!”

“Exactly.” Felicity took three pills from the bottle and rudely threw a water bottle onto the dragonfly's lap. “Swallow. Now. Or you will see Archie, and he will not be gentle with you.”

Claudio's lips trembled and he stared at the three pills hopelessly. “Three is a lot.”

“That's how much Micah told me to give you. Said one or two doesn't work,” Felicity argued.

Claudio did not want to see Archie, so he swallowed the first pill, then the second, and numbly, the third. It would only be seconds before his vision would spin and his stomach would turn. He was so used to this, that it felt like nothing. . .

Sam was awake at three in the morning, browsing the web on her computer for breeding tips and tricks, desperate. She could hear Claudio crying outside her door, but with the intensity of her curiosity, she did not want to deal with him. Micah had put him on pills, and all Sam could feel was pity for him, instead of care like she usually did. But the second a startling thump buried itself in her ears, she closed her tabs on her computer, and sighed out her careless sympathy.

She stood up and tiptoed gingerly across her fluffy carpet, twisted the doorknob, and saw her brother curled up on the floor. Her eyes went wide and she threw the door open, so hard it hit the wall behind it.

“Did you fall over?” she asked, concern stinging in her voice.

“I can't see straight. Please help me,” Claudio begged, with a hand caressing his pirouetting stomach. 

“How many did he give you? Four? Come on in my room. You need to lie down,” Sam said, and knelt down beside him, touched his warm hand, winced at the heat. “Oh, dear, you're hot...”

Claudio whimpered in pain as his sister wrapped her lithe arms around his weak frame. Her strangely strong scent slapped his senses and he scowled. “Your scent is powerful.”

“I know, I got it going, but don't ask—”

“You pity me,” Claudio interrupted. His body was lifted and he did not notice how light he was until he felt himself limp over his sister's body. 

Sam brought him into her room with her, and the iridescent glow from the computer painted the room with a faint light. She set him down on her bed, legs shaking as she made an attempt to lay him as gently as she could, in hopes of not startling his weak stomach. “I have the trash can right here if you need it. You're not making it all the way downstairs in time. Now lie down and don't annoy me or I'll kick you out.”

“I want you to lie with me,” Claudio whined.

“And this is why you need those pills. I'm your sister, not your mommy. I'm not going to cuddle you. I know you're scared, I know, but I'm not going to cuddle you. You're thirteen. Too old for cuddles,” Sam snapped, then brought her palm to his forehead, her other hand on his back, supporting him. Claudio frowned. “You must be over a hundred degrees. Try to go to bed.”

Felicity noticed Claudio's eyes as they meandered around the room, his hands as they clawed the sheets. “I can't believe you did that, you know.”

Claudio pointed his sorry gaze to the rocking, tilting floor.

“But I guess a sudden sexual desire would be a result of the hormone injection.”

Claudio looked back at Cassiopeia, who glared at him and flipped him off insolently, instantly. “I'm sorry, Cassio,” he muttered.

Cassiopeia mouthed a “fuck you” to him and looked up at her boyfriend lovingly, mockingly. “And don't call me Cassio,” she growled.

Claudio's antannae drooped. “I'm so sorry, Cassio...” and he caught himself a second later, “peia.”

“Yeah, yeah. Kill yourself!” Cassiopeia laughed like a flippant teenage girl.

It was exactly what his voices occasionally told him, and he cupped his head in his hands, and cried. “I'm not a-asking for your heart... Can we be friends?”

“No,” Cassiopeia replied immediately, a cruel hint in her word.

She hates you.

Claudio blocked his ears, prepared.

Everybody hates you.

He could still hear them as clearly as glass.

Everybody wants you dead.

Kill yourself.

Claudio finally lifted his heavy gaze out of his hands, saw his mother. It was not fair! She only came when she hated him. She never visited him when she loved him. 

“Kill yourself,”—

—she said, then faded.

Claudio was so furious at himself, for what he did to Cassiopeia, for he couldn't take back his wrongdoing. The parasites of his mind—his own thoughts—ate him, chewed him, swallowed him whole, until he slept inside of their stomachs, smoldering in the acid. He was curled up on the bed, hiccuping, sobbing, like a baby as the voices teased him, murdered him inwardly with their words. Everybody now despised him, it was no surprise, but even Momma hated him. Her recent words repeated in her head, playing, rewinding, over and over again. Even she wanted him to die. 

And here, he was crying in agony, and no one batted an eye. He wished he could save himself, turn back time somehow, think when he had a chance. Tears pooled into the sheet, soaked, each tear of misery. He heard Cassiopeia laugh, perhaps it was at him, why would it not be at him? He hid himself, tried, by squeezing himself into his own cocoon like a caterpillar.

Felicity ran her fingers through his hair, and Claudio jumped. “You need to calm down.”

“I can't! I— I can't calm, I can't—” Claudio raged, sobbed, and slapped her hand away. “Leave me alone, please!”

Felicity unhooked the snap hook from the ring, released him. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“I'm not tired!” Claudio shouted, curled up tighter.

The nurse hushed him. “You are. I can tell.”

“No, you can't, I'm not!”

“Claudio, you're tired. Did you shower?”

“No!”

Felicity yanked the chain and the dragonfly choked, whimpered. “Don't yell at me. Control yourself.”

“I can't!” Claudio sat up, his hair disheveled, adding to his unhinged look. He brought his hands to his collar and pulled, but was yanked again, jerked forward. “Stop!”

Felicity tried to grab his hand, but Claudio whipped it away, his eyebrows melting into his eyes. The nurse was beginning to feel frightened; he never acted like this before. What caused him to act out tonight? “What's wrong? Tell me.”

“No!” Claudio screamed, kicked her in the bare leg, leaving a dirty, sandy smear on her skin.

Felicity shoved her hand in his hair, and pulled hard, triggered an angry yelp from his throat. “What is up with you tonight? You're being so bad.”

“Let go, it hurts!” the dragonfly demanded. Then a growl passed through his throat, and he glanced up to a mirror above second sink ahead of him. And he caught a beast tombed in there, shockingly in sync with himself, for when his antenna perked up, the beast's did also. His harsh mood softened as he stared into the reflection, hypnotized by his epiphany.

The beast in the mirror was him.

How could he ever let himself become so vicious? Miserabilism was wrapped up tautly in his face, visibly, so unapproachable that he did not even want to look at himself. It was no surprise everybody hated him, for no one in their right minds would approach him unless they wanted to end up killed.

He dropped his gaze to the floor; he could not even stomach his expression.

Felicity cautiously brushed Claudio's hair with her fingers. “Are you tired?”

Claudio purred in pleasure in his response. “I don't know...”

“Are you calm now?”

“I don't know.”

Felicity sighed despairingly. “What do you know?”

Claudio shrugged. “Nothing."

Then Cassiopeia's boyfriend boomed, “Kill yourself, asshole!”

Claudio's rage lit up again, and his fists formed, and he let out a livid whimper, choking down a scream. His voice then shook with anger, “I will kill you first.”

“Wah, wah!” the moth's boyfriend teased, and triggered a giggle from his girlfriend.

The mocking giggle stung in Claudio's ears, squeezed his heart into pieces. Out of thin air, many strange giggles taunted him, the loudest one so sounding geeky it was terrifying. His vision was plagued with vertigo, his stomach danced and nausea struck him. He wanted to block his ears, his mouth, cry for help, but could not even speak, being so disturbed. The voices pounded his head like they were hammering a nail into his skull, pouring out the weight of it until he could not see straight, could only see blurred images.

Felicity caught him by the shoulders as he began to lean back. “You're falling asleep. Come on, let's go to bed.”

Claudio faltered out a reply, his eyes closed as he held his head up with his fingertips. “I don't feel good.”

Over the peculiar giggles, a special voice slipped into his mind. “That's good to hear,” it said, but when Claudio looked up, he saw a spinning Micah, and gasped. This was not a hallucination.

The older dragonfly crossed his arms, imitating Momma. “I heard you being told to kill yourself. I guess I was right.”

Then his mother appeared, and kissed his father in a saccharine courtesy on the cheek.

Notes:

this took like 3 days to write it was so fun

Chapter 6: Chapter 5: Lady Killer

When Claudio awoke the bright morning after he lost Cassiopeia's fragile heart, he was shaky, so weak that he could hardly grab the note beside his mattress. Blinking slowly, his eyes ran across the paper, studied the words scribbled in a svelte style.

I'm sorry, Claudio. I only did it because my boyfriend was there, but I'm not trying to make excuses. What I did was hurtful, and I can't tell you that I'm innocent here, because I'm far from that. I should not have said those things at all. I could not sleep last night thinking about it and what my boyfriend said, too. Again, I'm very sorry and I hope you'll forgive me. Feel better. ~Cassiopeia

Claudio smiled for the first time in what seemed like a century. He desired to thank her right now, but despair ran over him like a speeding car when he remembered the bars that shielded his cubicle. There hung a bell from the wall above him, but he did not want to ring it, for drawing attention to himself was unsought. He could hear chatter from the cafeteria, laughter, his father's boisterous cackle, so loud that if he did ring the bell he would not be heard. 

And he did not know whether or not it was breakfast, lunch or perhaps dinner. Light in the Pound was artificial, except in the cafeteria, the courtyard, and above the front door, where the only windows were built. But the meals did not matter; he did not want to eat; he wanted to starve himself to death. Although, the empty pit in his stomach was distressing at times.

He set the note down carefully on the concrete floor of his room, then he rolled over on his back and rested his shakiness against the thin sheets. Outside of the curtain, life was raging like a fire that could not be extinguished. The event that happened between he and Cassiopeia was in everybody's mouths, and nobody who once liked him here liked him anymore. He had not spoken to Travis yet, afraid that the bee might betray him, but Travis did not speak to Claudio yet either. A good friend would confront him about a situation like that.

The dragonfly dragged himself up, trembling, his expression tight in sickness. A pain in his wings blossomed and he let out a small whimper. He felt like a parasite was lurking inside of his blood, eating away at what made him a hybrid, killing him. But the thought was bliss. A hybrid could not function without an equal balance of human and hybrid chemicals, and currently, the human chemicals were tilting the justice scale to the floor. And in his hybrid academy, he learned that it would not make him human, it would murder him.

But he looked at his crotch in guilt. Why did he commit such a libertine act to such an angelic damsel? He regretted it with all of his heart.

Even thoughts could not explain how badly he desired his fate. Slicing his wrists, ripping his skin, bleeding, did not work. His stomach could not take the starvation, and his voice could not bear the dehydration. No matter how greatly he wished to die, he would not allow himself to. There could possibly be a reason in the abyss of his mind to hold on, but it was so far down, out of reach. And it was most likely Momma.

But she was being burned in the abyss, in hell. Claudio would never forgive her for kissing Micah in front of him. So then why should he live? What kept him from his suicide?

The only way to die uncontrollably was inevitable, and it was by maltreatment. It was simple to refuse any help by Felicity, easy enough to not speak up about it, and let his body peacefully fail.

“Claudio! Are you up now?” Chanel's voice, triggering him to flinch.

“Y-yes,” the dragonfly stammered.

Chanel flung open his curtain and disconnected the barred gate from the rings they looped onto. Held the black object in her hands. “If you behave terribly again, there will be worse consequences. Now, go eat lunch, and I mean now! The chef is not happy that you have been skipping meals!”

“Yes, ma'am, I— I'm sorry,” Claudio faltered.

If he was entirely honest, his appetite was already shriveled up to a singular speck of dust. His stomach was jumping hurdles, and he was feeling slightly nauseous. But perhaps eating will help with his sickness, so he stretched and climbed out of his cubicle gingerly.

The moment his feet hit the floor, a sharp pain wrecked him in his wings, and he reached behind himself and supported them up. His wings normally voluntarily held themselves up, but they were too weak to do so, and they tried to fall limp when he released them.

Then, his heart pumped aggressively and at the second a horrifying pulse began in his wings, he crumbled to the floor and lied there on the cold concrete like a cadaver, planted on his side. This was it. This was the end. He never thought death was going to be so placid.

It was only going to be minutes before sound died, the fictitious world he saw died, his body was shrouded with fragility, his heart slowed. He closed his eyes, waiting. The mass of his wings tingled, his antennae tickled, ready to withdraw from his body. And behind his eyelids, he pictured a dead dragonfly, its legs shriveled up, folded against its chest.

“Oh, finally!” Micah shouted thunderously from the cafeteria. Claudio did not react, just opened his eyes and kept them narrow. His father laughed, transmitted his message from afar, “I've been waiting for this all my life!”

Claudio closed his eyes again, uninterested. Was his own father not going to miss him as he slept?

Minutes later, sound started to wither away, except for the familiarity of his voices, but even those were starting to quiet into whispers. Yelps of fear buried itself in his ears, but did not make him wince.

He felt a hand on his heart.

“He still has a pulse, but its weak.”

Then a hand on his limp antenna.

“Would you feel this! Its getting cold and red around the openings.”

A few fingers pinching his antenna, and Cassiopeia's sweet voice.

“Save him! He's still alive!”

“I think he's ready for this.”

“Do you know how young he is? Fifteen, he told me last night! And you're going to kill him?”

The second voice was Felicity. “Okay, I'll save him! It's just going to be hard. Stay here and let me pull over a bed.”

Cassiopeia rested her delicate hand gently in Claudio's, then tightened her fingers around his. “You know, I forgive you for last night. I know you regret it. I understand you couldn't completely control yourself. Felicity directly apologized to me and told me what was up with your hormones. I'm sorry that it had to come to this. I didn't think it would kill you. I'm sorry, oh, am I talking too much?”

Claudio opened his eyes slowly, softly smiled, squeezed Cassiopeia's hand, excused her loquacious rambling. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Hold me close.”

Cassiopeia shuffled closer to him and he was lapped in her fine, feminine fragrance. She cupped his waist and slid a hand under his head. 

Claudio was slapped by a breeze of comfort. “Don't let the wind take us away.”

Cassiopeia was puzzled as he muttered such a senseless statement, blinking lightly, on the brink of death. She somehow knew that if he was still fully alive, he would flutter his wings and his antennae would perk up in love. It hurt to see his hybrid parts dead. But Claudio was losing his smile, so she replied and tried to take back the ethereal curve of his lips. “I won't let it.” 

He did not smile again.

The dragonfly rested his trembling hand on her willowy wrist and wrapped his fingers around it. “Soy tu libélula muerta. Te amo. ¿Pordrías amarme más? Adiós, Cassio. Cassiopeia, lo siento.”

The moth understood nothing except for her name as it was was transformed into full. “You may call me Cassio,” she said, her tone silvery. 

Claudio squinted and saw a hospital bed rolling towards them, the wheels on the floor sounding like an avalanche. “Te amo, Cassio.”

“What does that mean?” Cassiopeia asked.

“I love you. You have to say, 'Yo también te amo.'”

Cassiopeia made a difficult, dauntless endeavor. “¿Yo tam-también... te— te amo?”

Claudio smiled perfectly. “That means, 'I love you, too.'”

Cassiopeia blushed.

Felicity interrupted their cutesy moment, commanded the girl to move out of the way. “Move, help me, Cassiopeia. I can't lift him myself,” she said as she knelt down.

Claudio's body was lifted, gently on Cassiopeia's side. His wings throbbed again as they lied in the atmosphere there until he was set down on the soft mattress. The comfortable blanket was draped over his weakness by Cassiopeia, and the dragonfly recognized it as an endearing sign of care.

She was the sixth.

As the bed was wheeled through the hall, collided with the concrete, his body vibrated, aggravated his queasy stomach. He could sense Cassiopeia's presence nearby and the warmth of her love around him, blanketing his body. She stitched his heart back up after ripping it apart the night before, her work so delicate and precise, leisurely. Phenomenal.

The familiar aroma of the nurse's office hit him the second he was brought into the room. There was chatter between patients, and patients calling for Felicity's help. 

The nurse was such a busy girl, and Claudio felt ashamed for the plethora of time he spent with her. He wondered if she minded, for she said that he was ready for death, unwilling to help him. But he loved Felicity. He had to admit it. He loved her. And he loved her from the second he looked at her beauty, her chocolate hair, her celestially blue eyes. How could she not want to save him?

Felicity's voice made him jump. “I'll get to you all in a minute! I have to help a dying hybrid!”

The room hushed, interested.

Zander was the first to speak. “What happened?”

Felicity ignored him. She did not know herself the answer.

But Claudio just wished he did not care.

His bed was carefully left unattended for a minute, and the dying hybrid took his time to listen to the ephemeral reality around him, though he was not fond of appreciating his last moments, if he did manage to die, which he hoped. Whispers filled the scene, caving in, interfering with his deranged mind. But it felt normal. It was normal, for him at least. 

He was surprised that if he was close to death, Momma was not welcoming him into the afterlife. Before she had turned her sour, grudging back on him, he would have envisioned it perfectly: her smiling, her melodic voice, singing him into death, her arms reaching for him, and he would not fall into nothingness when he descended into them, for she was tangible in the same world. Now Claudio was bereft of dead souls' arms to welcome him when he passed. He pictured himself idle in the pit of Hell, assuming he would go there, flames surrounding him, no sight of Momma, for she would go to Heaven. How could he get there with her? He had to remain loving; he could not be bitter at anybody for his last breaths, especially to Cassiopeia, because he cherished her.

He cherished her now as her hand caressed his shoulder as he wilted away, gave him an afterglow in his dark mind.

Felicity padded over to the bed with a filled syringe in her grasp, a repetition of Claudio's first night here. Now, the dragonfly didn't flinch or appear afraid; he was too frail to feel and show alarm. “Cassiopeia, I need you to step back for a second.”

Cassiopeia smiled and nodded politely. “Okay.”

A cold hand was placed on Claudio's arm, and he winced at the contact as a needle pierced his skin, and fluid was pushed into his bloodstream. His hand tried to curl, to grip onto the sheets, but they could barely hold on. Before he knew it, the pain was fading, and a Band-Aid was placed over his bleeding skin.

“You handled that amazingly this time,” Felicity praised. Her fingers crawled to the waistband of his pants, and he immediately looked at her.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“I just have to inject some into your thigh. I figure you're too weak to do this yourself. Can you do it?” Felicity said calmly.

“You just do it,” the dragonfly sighed, and closed his eyes.

The nurse dodged his boxers as she pulled his black jeans down to his knees. She flung the blanket back over him, respecting his privacy, and turned around. “Let me get more of the medicine. Hang in there.”

Cassiopeia watched as Claudio's side rise and fell with every breath he took, admiring his peace. She did not understand how she could forgive him for last night, perhaps it was because the way his erection felt against her crotch, pleasant. Would she had let him undress her and fuck her if she had not screamed and drew in the manager? Her boyfriend was out in the hall, waiting for her, demanding answers concerning her safety when she was escorted. He spoke so badly about Claudio, though he was anonymous in his words, because she did not tell him who it was who tried to mate with her. And he encouraged it on her, which was why she insulted Claudio in the nurse's office. Then she was resentful towards him—her boyfriend—for she acknowledged the hurt in the dragonfly's actions.

Claudio was cute, she had to admit, behind his insanity and wrongdoing. She did not wish to see last night in him, because she knew that was not who he truly was. She accepted his apology the second he rasped it. 

The moth gaped at his thighs as Felicity injected fluid into his veins for a second time, and wondered if those were what she would be seeing at her sides as he straddled her and fucked her, shifted at every thrust, jerked her body against the floor. It was a missed opportunity. Her boyfriend wanted to be more protective of her, so she possibly could not have a secret affair with Claudio if she wanted one.

Or perhaps she could.

Claudio exhaled deeply when the second injection was finished and the site was covered with a Band-Aid. Cassiopeia was brushing his hair with her soft fingers. “I thought you had a boyfriend.”

“I do. He's still eating lunch,” the girl replied.

“Are you sure he didn't see you help me on the floor?”

Cassiopeia shrugged. “Well, I hope not. Besides, wait, did you read my note?”

“Yes, thank you for that,” Claudio answered, a smile shining through his face. “I thought you hated me.”

“My boyfriend made me say those things, like I said. I didn't hate you. I feel like I kind of liked what you did to me, and I wished I hadn't screamed, and let myself ease into the pleasure. It just hurt when you bit my neck, that's what I'm mad about,” Cassiopeia added to the note verbally as an afterthought.

“I'm really sorry. I'll do anything—”

“No. Don't. Don't do anything. You're dying, that's punishment enough,” Cassiopeia reasoned. Her lips ached to kiss him reassuringly, and she was disloyal again. “Anyway, I don't think I like my boyfriend.”

A surge of hope charged through Claudio's heart, pumped his hormones. “Are you going to leave him?”

“I'm not ready to break his heart. But I...” Cassiopeia did not finish.

“You what?” Claudio urged.

Cassiopeia bent over, grabbed Claudio's stubbly chin, met eyes with him, and finally, she pressed her lips against his, kissing him fondly. Claudio shakily reached for her, and she held the back of his hand, and caused him to whimper in a content bliss. 

When she pulled away, Claudio whispered, voice full of love, “Cassio...”

Cassiopeia rested her left palm against the dragonfly's forehead, hushing him, for he knew what that touch meant. The moth released his head from her right hand and said, “We'll hang out if we can later. You need to let your body heal for now.”

Claudio's head fell against the soft pillow gently, his body relaxed, his eyes shut sleepily. Cassiopeia rubbed his shoulder sweetly, in perpetual circles of which the embodiment subsided when he fell asleep a few minutes after. He was at great peace; body covered with a comfortable, warm blanket, a loving kiss in his last thoughts before slumber, his crush's soothing hand providing protection to him through his sleeve. This was where he wanted to be.

Cassiopeia began to walk away, and she said, “Sleep tight, my love.”

This, Claudio heard in his dreams.

*****

“Woah! I— I didn't expect you to see you,” Cassiopeia stammered, her eyes pointed over her shoulder at Claudio, as her chestnut wisps of hair flung back and nearly slapped the dragonfly.

“Where you are going?” Claudio asked, a concerned tone in his voice.

The moth shrugged. “To the courtyard,” she answered vaguely, then she immediately switched the subject. “How do you feel?"

“Felicity said the fever went down a couple degrees and I'm not allowed to use my wings because they're weak. My entire body is aching,” Claudio replied. “And I had a good dream. You said, 'sleep tight, my love', and I woke up and my heart fluttered.”

“That was not completely a dream. I actually said that," Cassiopeia said quickly. Her eyes darted around the room, jumped off of walls, and her leg bounced like an impatient rabbit. Her eyes did not last in his.

“Do you love me?” Claudio gasped, hopes skyrocketing to the galaxy beyond the ether. “Can we be friends?”

Cassiopeia did not reply, and pivoted.

“Cassio?” Claudio's voice wilted away into a broken hush as his heart was pulled apart and the thread that sealed the crack loosened.

Cassiopeia shrugged again. “It's too much of a risk."

“Oh,” Claudio said blandly, and his eyes fell to the floor; the moth's icy blue eyes were too disappointing to stare in. “May I come with you to the— Never mind...”

She hates you.

Cassiopeia slowly turned away, and began her walk to the courtyard, as Claudio faced the opposite way. She figured he was going to go back into the nurse's office.

Tears settled in the bottom of Claudio's eyes in an instant and the dragonfly sniffled. She lied. She did not love him. Why did she have to lie? He wished she could share the love she shared with others with him. Why could she not?

Now, he planned to rest for the rest of his day in the nurse's office, as Felicity pacified him from his troubles, eased his aches. It seemed that was where he was going to spend his life from now on. 

When Claudio turned into the doorway, with an entirely contrasting expression than from when he left minutes ago, Felicity noticed. “Claudio, did something happen?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“You never want to talk. Come on, tell me,” the nurse pressed.

Claudio crawled into bed, planted himself on his stomach, and his voice shivered. “What are you going to do if I tell you? It's not your problem.”

“I can try to help,” Felicity said, and pulled on her blue gloves, tightened them against her hand. 

Claudio debated if he should respond to that or if he should not. He was never going to be close to free from his everlasting suffering, it seemed. Euphoria rose from the bed of his heart when he thought that Cassiopeia loved him, like a lake's water level after a blinding downpour, but the lake was drained, and he was left with a heart so dry it cracked. Broke. How could a stranger put the pieces back together?

Felicity pressed her palms down on the sheet, watched him fidget, peel the skin from his hands. “Do you want help? Something to eat?”

Claudio's bottom lip quivered and slightly protruded and he shook his head in disapproval.

“What's the matter?” the nurse asked as she ran a hand up and down the hybrid's back, relieving his aches.

Claudio dropped his head inside of his forearms. He never liked to talk to people about his problems, fearing they did not care. But he was on the brink of suicide, and comfort was necessary. He had to give in once.

“Everybody hates me,” he sobbed.

A voice hissed, That's right.

“It may feel like everybody, but I am sure you are loved,” Felicity assured him, but this did not reach his mind.

“Even Momma hates me. Because of Archie. She was disappointed in me. Now she wants me to kill myself."

“Maybe she's holding a little grudge. Don't take it so personally. She's just startled her perfect little lady killer would be used in such a way,” Felicity said, and removed her hands from Claudio's back. “I'll get you a heating pad for your aches. You may talk to me more when I get back.”

Claudio's heart was slightly touched at the nurse's benignant provision. “Okay.”

Outside the door, Cassiopeia was standing, antennae drooped as she overheard the conversation. She did not intend to hurt Claudio in her past words. Her boyfriend was just around the corner when they were talking, so she played it safe. But she was in love with Claudio. She wished for more between them; romance, a sleep in each other's hold, a long kiss, longer, until her lips swelled. Perhaps that would happen if she fixed Claudio. It did not seem possible, but in her head, it was. She would screw in the loose nails that held together his sanity.

But Felicity prepared to walk out with a heating pad, so Cassiopeia started her way to the courtyard, the desire of confronting her crush unfulfilled.

When the nurse turned out of his sight, Claudio instantly began to miss her, silently begging for her care and protection. Who cared about him now? Felicity. Chester? Sam? His counselor? Did they still care about him? Questioned pooled in his head as he grew paranoid. 

Travis did not care about him anymore. He had not visited him today, had not spoken to him since the incident the night before. On the verge of death, would a true friend love? He could not believe he once trusted him. Spilled his feelings out, such a personal topic for Claudio, cried to Travis.

He looked at the wall, and scribbled in jagged black paint, were the words in the form of a familiar letter, stabbing him in the heart.

REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD KILL YOURSELF:

- EVERYBODY HATES YOU!

The paint spread itself through his soul, covered his mind in a black belief, stained his insides, until he was spiritually the darkest of colors. When he glanced back up at the horror, the paint dripped down the wall, it never ended, poured into the sink's drain, crawled onto the floor. And it dripped until the words were gone, and they took the form of wet paint strewn across the wall, the sink, and the floor, the form of the angry steaks of blood in his wrists.

Then, when the black paint faded, disintegrated, only out of the world for he was still spiritually black with self-loathing, his eyes meandered around the room, until the landed on a very pretty girl.

Cassiopeia.

Claudio did not know whether to frown or smile, whether to cry or greet her.

The moth rushed to his bed and grabbed his hand. He flinched. She spat, “I'm sorry. My boyfriend was too close, I had to be safe. But when you turned, I regretted it, and I told him I was not feeling well, that my stomach was acting up. He believed me and went to the courtyard by himself. But I lied so I could be with you. I wanted to say I'm sorry. I can love you.”

It was a lot for Claudio to take in. “I forgive you. If you love me, forget him. Break his heart.”

“When I'm ready, I will. I want to be yours, Claudio,” confessed Cassiopeia. Her eyes were bright with admiration.

Claudio squeezed her hand tighter, propped himself up on his knees. “But what do you love about me? I'm ugly and crazy.”

Cassiopeia was honest. “You're not ugly enough for me to not like you. You're not crazy enough to scare me. Let's forget about last night. Let's make today our beginning.”

Claudio could never forgive himself for last night, come what may. Cassiopeia could tell him her scream was a mistake and the scream would continue to ring in his ears. He could not help but mutter, ”I'm still very sorry.”

”Stop. Forget it."

“There's nothing I can do to reverse it. I deserve to live here my entire life for it. I'm really sorry—”

“Oh, shut it! It was not that bad! You're making it sound like you bred me!”

Claudio dipped his head. “It was a crime. They told me to do it. I'm sorry for being an idiot."

Cassiopeia clawed his cheeks with both of her hands, silenced him. “Listen. Let's go over what happened. So you got jealous and trapped me in a room—”

“Sorry—”

“Stop! Then you told me something about your ancestors, I started to run, then you bit my neck and pressed yourself against me, and it felt good. I told you that I wanted you, and you rocked your hips, I told you to fuck me, and you didn't end up wanting it, so I offered you the nurse. Randomly, you mentioned my boyfriend, told me you're sexier than him, then I told you that you're a virgin and you were pissed,” Cassiopeia hesitated and allowed Claudio to draw all of her words into his head, let the memories float back. “Right now all I see is a conceited, jealous boy who wants to seduce a girl he can't have. It's not a crime.”

Claudio leaned in and rested his head on her chest. “Okay."

“Then, you jumped on me when I told you I love my boyfriend more, and I freaked out. I screamed. You begged me to fuck you, and I said I changed my mind—”

“No, you didn't!” Claudio knew she did. He did not want to face the facts.

”I did! I remember clearly saying that I changed my mind and that I hate you—”

“Then why the fuck are you here!?"

“Claudio, I don't hate you anymore! I was just scared in the moment, so it came out! I barely knew you! Please, calm down, and listen!” Cassiopeia took a deep breath as Claudio wiped away a tear. “Don't cry, just listen.”

Claudio sniffled. “I'm sorry.”

“Then you bit my neck again, and tried to please yourself. Don't freak out! We both had our clothes on! It could have been way worse. You could have undressed me and came inside me! You didn't!” Cassiopeia's voice was soft, though she was slightly shouting.

“But it's still rape.”

“But Claudio, it's not so bad! If it was, I wouldn't forgive you," Cassiopeia said.

Claudio shook his head lightly. “I still raped you, whether you forgive me or not."

He was right, and Cassiopeia did not know how to make him forget about the troubles of last night anymore. “If I didn't scream, maybe I could have eased into the pleasure and enjoyed it."

A sudden thought broke into Claudio's mind and he seemed to say it out loud. “We can try again.”

“We might when your hormones are healthy,” Cassiopeia agreed. “If we do, we can forget about last night. Because then I'd want it, and I wouldn't care anymore.”

Claudio put a hand on her collarbone and slipped his thumb under her shirt's strap. “I mean now, no matter what."

Cassiopeia pried his hand away, stared into his blown eyes. “Can you see where this is leading to? Control yourself. I don't mean now like you do.”

Claudio forced himself to agree. “I'm sorry. I struggle with that.”

“It's okay. Now, I'm going to go to my room and,” she spoke with quotation gestures and a smirk, “rest my stomach ache. You rest up too and feel better. I'll see you later."

Claudio did not expect his head to be grabbed, Cassiopeia lean close to him, his lips to be sealed by hers. Just when he began to acknowledge the kiss, the moth pulled away, and he found himself reaching out for another.

Cassiopeia cocked her head as she tried to speak, “¿Te amo?”

Claudio smiled in satisfaction. “Yo también te amo.”

He loved her, too.

Chapter 7: Chapter 6: Cambria

The words glued Claudio to the page as he wrote them on the thin, blue lines. He loved doing this. He loved writing stories, stories that reflected his life, each page a different mirror, magnified or diminished. His favorite character was Cambria Kilgannon, a heroine inspired by his mother.

He remembered Momma as such a caring, young lady. Being the only parent at home most of the time, she had a lot to get done; cleaning, working, nursing Claudio. But her anger never was cast out. It remained inside of her, boiling like water, then sizzling down as the heat was lowered. She was never annoyed with Claudio. He was a good kid.

Cambria Sanchez reclined back in her chair on the porch, a face mask coating her skin, her arms sleeping on the armrests. She was in serenity. Free from work and chores.

Claudio, only five years old, slid open the back door with a strong, toddler hand. “Momma?"

Cambria opened her eyes but did not look at him, squinted in the sunlight. “Yeah, baby, what's up?”

Claudio shut the door behind him, and was blasted by the heat of the sun. “I thought I losed you.”

“Aw, well, I'm right here. I'll never leave you. Do you want to go play by our little pond? With the dragonflies?” Cambria offered as her child neared her. She set a hand on his head, stroking his hair, but her mind was swamped with memories of Micah as he begged her to hand him the kid. The dragonfly pond was for Claudio, not him, although when he visited from California, he was drawn to it. It made her feel like he wanted to stay, but the feeling would always evanesce once he mentioned building one in his yard. Cambria did not want to move to Los Angeles. It was such a big city, compared to Nyack, where she lived in New York with Claudio. 

Claudio missed her so much. She had no idea how badly Micah treated him after her death. He could admit, he was rude to Micah, but Micah took it as far as abusing him for it. When he grew older, he lost interest in asperity, and began treating his father courteously. But he was still abused.

And how were his ten siblings doing at home? Their father was gone. Their owner was dead. Surely, Sam had to be in charge of everyone, being the oldest. At least his sister Kaipo could cook, his brother Augustine could clean, and his sister Darlene could support everybody and herself with their grief. She was a civil, patient girl, but she never helped Claudio with anything. She agreed with Micah.

“Claudio, you really need to heighten your grades. I don't get how you could be such a failure,” Micah snapped before biting a sliver of chicken from his fork.

Darlene frowned. “I heard you have a forty six in breeding class. Sam told me that class is easy!”

Claudio's antennae slightly fell like a rotting flower and he looked around the table for understanding, but only caught glowers. 

“Damn, wait until a girl sees that,” Micah giggled teasingly, sprouted a scoff from Sam.

Claudio's eyes dropped to his plate and his appetite vanished as the insults weighed on him. A voice smacked him in the face, calling him a worthless failure, but it was anonymous, and nobody in his family said anything in reality.

“How is it possible to fail that class? I remember practicing flying onto a girl, and I passed immediately,” Micah reminisced. “That class was the best. Why do you think I have so many kids?”

Claudio had engaged in the mentioned practice, and his wings had not even worked, so he failed. His tone was bitter, and he spoke through his teeth, “I wonder why I can't fucking do anything as a hybrid.”

Micah laughed. “The problem is your appearance! God, you can't even take care of yourself! Cambria was an ugly woman, you know, and you look just like her—”

Claudio's hands were balled in fists as he stared at Cambria Kilgannon, the beauty in his drawing reflecting Momma, and he recalled the insults that were tossed into his brain. No, Momma was beautiful. She was beautiful. He was beautiful.

Ugly.

Claudio blocked his ears. Beautiful.

Ugly.

Beautiful.

Ugly.

Ugly.

He sighed and rested his head in his arms. Cassiopeia never said he was pretty anyways. She only said he was handsome enough not to make her feel unattracted.

Kill Micah.

It had to happen someday. It was going to happen someday. It was going to happen today. 

The dragonfly smiled sadistically as he foresaw himself slicing, slashing, stabbing his father with a sharp sickle, splattering blood over his sheets, which soaked steadily into the synthetic, stained. He envisaged his father behind his eyelids, struggling, for once, struggling, as his son finally had his claws dug into the upper hand position, as he killed him.

And he watched himself climb out of his room, in the midst of the evening of the day after his near death, when Micah tried to poison him. If this whole killing thing was a game, well, it was Claudio's turn, and he was beyond ready to prevail. 

His steps were not hurried, but he was rushed by voices that wished he would hurry up and grab the knife from the kitchen. He needed to win this game soon; it was not fun. It felt too real. And nothing ever felt real. 

Before he bounced into the kitchen, he glanced behind, in case Travis was acting out an espionage, then pushed open the door when he admitted his friend was nowhere in sight. The chef was not in the kitchen either; it was after dinner, so he had gathered all of his things and headed home already.

Claudio pulled open the silverware drawer, and the metal of the knife glistened, grabbed his eager gaze. His hand lowered itself closer to the black handle, his fingers wrapped themselves around it like a glove, and the knife was pulled out slowly, but in a desirous manner. 

The blade was so clean, shiny even, but he knew that soon it was going to end up in the sink again, with crimson blood staining the tip. Micah's blood.

Come on, kill him.

Claudio spun around and with his fingers clenching the knife tightly, he began to walk out of the door. Travis was still not around, fortunately. But security was around, so he ducked the knife under the waistband of his jeans, and prayed nobody saw. The blade dug itself into his hip at each step he took, at each tread of his boots, and the slight pain it brought almost pleased him.

The hall of criminals felt longer than usual as he grew impatient to kill his father. And the thought was satisfying enough to summon a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. 

Micah's room was painfully across from his, and Claudio climbed a ladder into the small space. He knew his father was asleep. Dragonflies always slept early, but not Claudio, for his mind was plagued with anxiety and his ears were flooded with false voices constantly, so he could not sleep. Even now, he could not even hear Micah's peaceful breathing, because of his voices, begging him to kill.

There was not a whole lot of room in the cubicle for the two of them. Micah was a big dragonfly; he was created in a lab, and manmade hybrids were larger than usual, a foot taller. That did not cease Claudio's desire to murder, though, and still, he pinned his father down on the mattress, unsheathed the knife from his pants, and held it right above Micah's neck.

And the eyes of the older dragonfly opened.

Quickly, idiot!

Kill him!

Just as Claudio was about to stab him, Micah grabbed his son's wrist and grasped it so tightly that it could not move. The knife was dropped onto his neck, but the fall was so gentle it only made a dent in his skin. He growled as meanly as a Doberman, “Just what do you think you're doing?"

Claudio's voice was terrified, it shriveled into a high squeak, his heart pounded and he could feel his father's hand tighten at every heavy beat, and his eyes widened, pupils dilated. “I—”

Micah threw him roughly against the wall, and a sharp crack pierced the air, startled the both of them, but the older hybrid shrugged it off. He equipped the knife in his hand and held it to Claudio's heart. “Since you love your mother so much, do you want to see her?”

Claudio shook his head, and he was whimpering like a puppy continuously, choking down a cry as tears wrecked his eyesight.

Micah set the knife down. “Why not?”

Claudio was too breathless to speak.

“I asked you a question,” Micah pressed. A silence of an answer was filled with whimpering, and he laid his eyes on a dilapidated feature of his son's body, and he only muttered, “Oh.”

The bell was rung, a loud sound that invited the nearest worker by that happened to be Sharon, a very young woman with naturally red hair. 

She whipped open the curtain. “What do you need?”

“My son is in here. He's hurt. He needs the nurse, now,” Micah demanded of her sternly.

Claudio was surprised that his father was committing such a thoughtful act towards him. Why could he not care before when he hurt him? Ruined his mind forever, ruined his body? The pain was so insufferable that he could not concentrate, could only sob as it spread itself throughout his body like a virus. What was so bad that Micah had to finally care?

“I'm sorry,” his father apologized as an attempt to soothe him. “Just wait.”

“What— Did— Did you—” Claudio gave up on speaking.

Micah rested a hand on his knee. “She's coming.”

Claudio pressed his hands to his head as it fell light as he suffocated. “Am I—” His voice was wheezy and he spoke in one breath, “Am I dying?”

His father shook his head. “You won't die. This won't kill you, but it's bad.”

Claudio rose into a rage, and not being provided of an answer, he shouted in a trembling voice, “What happened?”

“I'm so sorry.”

Claudio kicked him. “What happened?!”

Micah tightened his fingers around both of his ankles. “You'll find out soon. She's here. Calm down and go see Felicity.”

And as his son climbed down to the floor, Micah stared guiltily at the broken wing that slept where Claudio once sat seconds before. For once in his life, selfless tears pooled his eyes as he watched him struggle to walk, cling onto Felicity, with three wings behind his back.

*****

“Claudio, stop being grumpy,” Cassiopeia whined.

The dragonfly did not say a word to her.

“I still love you.”

Claudio wanted to cry. He did not believe her.

The moth poked his rough cheek, and was rewarded with a frown that shaped his species into something more vicious than a harmless dragonfly. “I know it's a big loss.”

Claudio buried his head in his arms.

“But it'll be okay in a few years when you shed and regrow.”

Claudio finally spoke, “I'm the worst.”

“Stop. You're not.”

“I'm infertile and missing a wing. I am. Stop loving me.”

Cassiopeia knelt down and held his neck fondly, caressed his skin, massaged him in a hope to relieve his worries. “But fertility isn't the focus in a relationship.”

Claudio sniffled. “For hybrids, it is.”

“No, it isn't. You're thinking about mates, not lovers. Mates are—”

“Temporary, lovers are forever,” Claudio finished her sentence, finished the saying. “Micah said that a long time ago to Momma.”

“Yeah. And I love you. Mates are the hybrids you get together with in your season just to breed. And we are both in our seasons, but I don't even want to breed,” Cassiopeia said. “I know you do. And I know you can't.”

“How do you even know I'm infertile?” Claudio asked, voice heightened.

“Felicity told me when she was comforting me the other night,” the moth replied. “And that didn't stop me from kissing you yesterday.” 

“I know you're going to leave me in a few days anyway. I'm too ugly and broken,” grumbled Claudio.

“Stop it! You're beautiful. You're not broken. None of this is your fault,” Cassiopeia protested, her soft voice still present. It always was. Even when she shouted. Her voice was so, incredibly dulcet, that she never was loud enough to become the bull's eye everybody pointed their arrows to.

“Just leave me. Your boyfriend, I bet, isn't a crazy fucking beast who can't give you babies. He's more attractive. I don't know why you love me,” Claudio complained, and wiped a tear.

Cassiopeia cloaked his hand with hers, and he looked at her, but their eyes did not last in each others'. “I don't know either, I guess. There's just something about you. I just love you.”

“I want to know why,” Claudio snarled.

“You're cute,” Cassiopeia listed. “You're strong.”

Claudio frowned. He was so weak, especially now.

“You're sweet.”

“I'm mean,” the dragonfly argued.

“You can be impulsive sometimes. But you try not to be, I can tell,” Cassiopeia said.

Claudio blushed, for her voice was so euphonious as she attempted to assure him, but he hid the saccharine, rosy color of his cheeks in his arms. “I'm a jerk in comparison to you.”

“Now you're just beating yourself up,” Cassiopeia huffed, crossed her arms, stood up. Claudio peeked at her, a trouble tied in his expression. “Come on, I love you. If you really were  a jerk, I'd hate you—”

“So you hate me, but in secret—”

“No! No, no!” Cassiopeia then opened her mouth to prove another point, but how could she argue with someone so delusional? She sighed. “You know what, Claudio?”

Claudio's antennae lazily rose up. “What?”

Cassiopeia's voice dissolved into a rueful hush. “Then, I guess, we can't be together.” She turned as if she was going to walk away. “This won't work.”

Claudio's antennae were straight up now, and he sat up from his flat position. “Wait, I'm sorry! Please, tell me, what did I do? Why will this not work? You love me! And I love you! Don't leave me, though I understand why you will, just tell me why!”

Cassiopeia glanced back at him. “You have to love yourself before you love me,” she consoled. “For now, I need a break. I'm leaving. Figure yourself out, and until then, I'll be gone.”

“But how do I...” Claudio's voice trailed off into a silence packed with the moth's footsteps. Three wings; how could he do this? Before Cassiopeia went through the door, he murmured, “Bye, Cassio,” as his eyes became fire and water, burned and watered.

He slid off of the bed exhaustedly with a puff of hopelessness. The pain in his back was suffocated by painkillers, and he was still not used to walking with three wings, with more weight on his right side. It looked as atrocious as it felt in the mirror, but then again, he was hideous in general. His hair was a mess, his eyes were bloodshot with tears, but they kept growing redder, redder, redder, until they were his most hated color, the color of Momma's blood. He frantically wiped his eyes, so aggressively, so harshly, tears soaked his skin, but no blood poured out of his sclerae, left him frightened.

Felicity caught him, and was concerned. “Claudio, you're supposed to be in bed, trying to sleep. What's wrong? Do your eyes hurt?”

Claudio faced away from her. “Don't look! I look scary!”

“As a nurse, I need to see what you're talking about,” Felicity said, and Claudio turned to her.

“Don't judge me,” he muttered, and dropped his hands.

Felicity cocked her head, puzzled. “They look normal. It looks like you were about to cry, or is that from the rubbing? Stop touching them. Do they hurt?”

“Red is normal!” Claudio shouted sarcastically. “No, they don't hurt!”

“When you cry, they get a little red,” Felicity explained with a soft smile. “Go to bed unless you don't feel okay.”

“They're not a little red!” Claudio roared, panicked. He looked at the bright color in the mirror and fought the urge to rub his eyes again.

“They're always like that when you cry,” Felicity assured, and grabbed his shoulder. “It's time to sl—”

“No, they aren't!” The heels of Claudio's hands pressed against his eyes, tried to drain the horror.

“I guess I don't know what you're talking about. I'll be right back. Let me get something. When I come back, you're sitting on the bed, very calm, with your hands in your lap. Cover your eyes and don't look at the mirror if it scares you,” Felicity said, then, with her heels clicking along the floor, she scurried off.

Claudio wanted to gasp, but he was breathless, and could not even sigh. Calm down? How? When his eyes were bright red, how could he calm? He backed down onto the edge of the hospital bed, shook, covered his eyes like the nurse told him to. Now, he was only one step closer to appearing collected.

As each minute of waiting passed, he grew more and more stressed. He could not keep his hands over his eyes any longer, with a notion that there was an ambush standing by him, ready to jump onto him and kill him. His hands were tied together in his lap, and they were restless, fingers curling and straightening against each other. His erratic gaze went everywhere.

Soon, Felicity bounded back into the room, with a crayon in her hand and a small notepad. She puffed as if she was out of breath, “Okay. Are you calm now?”

Claudio only looked down at his fidgeting.

Felicity handed him the notepad and crayon, and slowly, he took it. “Color lightly for a lighter shade, and harder for a more prominent shade. I want you to show me how red your eyes look to you.”

Claudio did not have to look in the mirror again, for the image was engrafted in his mind by now. He pressed the crayon down on the paper as hard as he could, and a scribble of blood ran through the once white sheet. The color was disgusting. 

“Are you exaggerating?” Felicity asked as she acknowledged the bright color.

Claudio shook his head quickly. “Why won't you believe me?”

“I do. I'm just making sure,” Felicity said and stole the notepad from her patient. “If it really looks that red to you, and normal to me, then you must be hallucinating. Okay?”

Claudio was suddenly hit by a wave of distress. “Then will you please make it stop?” he pleaded.

Felicity grabbed a hair brush from a drawer on her counter. “It's okay. It's not going to hurt you. Your eyes will be fine. I know it's scary, but there's nothing we can do about it for now,” she assured, and after snatching a wet cloth, she turned to him. “Are you ready for bed?”

Claudio dipped his head. “No.”

“Okay, well, talk to me. How does your back feel?” the nurse interrogated as she ran the bristles of the brush through the dragonfly's curly hair. 

Claudio shrugged; he had a wrong feeling, but it was not his back, but it angered him. “I guess it's almost better, but I don't know how it feels without the painkillers.”

“You'll be sore for a little while. But because your wing broke off, your nerves were cut, and you'll soon be numb in that area until you regrow,” Felicity told him. “Will you tell me what's on your mind? You look upset.”

Claudio wrapped his fingers around the brush and took it from the nurse's hold. “You're doing this all wrong. I'll do it.”

Felicity stepped back. “Okay. I'm sorry. I just want to help you.

“I know,” Claudio said, then let through an awkward silence as he sank into his thoughts. She's stupid. She messed up my hair—

Felicity squeezed her hand around the warm, wet cloth, and held up the dragonfly's chin. “Anything else on your chest you want off?”

Claudio's face was covered by the damp cloth, and he softened. “Well, Cassio wants me to love myself. How do I do that?”

“You can think positively about yourself. But even if you did, you're constantly going to have voices telling you the opposite of what you think, and that will make you hate yourself. We're trying to get your medication in, don't worry. We're just having some problems,” Felicity advised. She stopped washing his face as his antennae drooped in despair. “It's possible. It's just hard for now. Do you ever try to fight the voices?”

“It's too hard,” Claudio replied, and remembered the many times he tried and failed. “I don't want to take my medication. I'm fine.”

“You have to. We tried to talk to Chester's scientist, but he said he couldn't get any because you no longer have an owner. But when we finally get the meds, you'll be taking them frequently.” Felicity stopped talking when Zander called her name. “Go to bed. Right here. I'll tell Cassiopeia about this later.”

Claudio did not even realize it when he hastily gripped the nurse's shirt and, with his veins buldging out of his forearm, he kept her close, his strength resisting her. 

Felicity held his powerful hand in her palm. “Let go, please. I have other patients to take care of.”

“I'm more important,” Claudio boasted.

“You get more attention than the others. Come on, let go. Zander needs aches taken care of. You need to go to bed.”

Claudio twisted into a rage and his other hand clawed her neck. “I'm better than him!”

Felicity slapped him across the cheek, and all of the different colored eyes in the room averted towards them. “You're getting enough attention, so stop, please! Everybody's looking at you!” The hybrid's fingers pulled her shirt down, until her pretty, pink bra was unveiled. She was flooded with embarrassment, and with that, she slapped him again and again, but he tolerated everything. “You do not know when to stop, do you?”

Claudio shook his head and bared his teeth with a wish to bite. His knuckles tightened, shook, glowed bright white.

A sharp scent of his hormones stuffed Felicity's nose and she staggered back sheepishly. “Alright, calm down...”

You're a beast.

Claudio inhaled deeply and slowly released her shirt, left it slightly wrinkled. He was going to fight if he wanted Cassiopeia's heart. No, he was not a beast. Now that he was calming down, he was not.

The nurse stroked his head once. “Hands in your lap.”

Hurt yourself.

Claudio did not know who to listen to. He desired to harm himself so badly, but he needed to fight back. For Cassiopeia. His hands fell onto his lap, but they ached to bend back the bandages binding his wrists and batter his body.

Then he heard the love of his life's sweet voice, and he did not look up, claiming it was a hallucination. Cassiopeia would never come back for him as he loathed himself. She kept repeating his name, and there was the sound of her shoes along the floor, and her voice growing louder, her bewitching giggle, so cute that he gave in, and his worried gaze turned upwards. She was standing right there, her prettiness just inches before him. 

Her smile was charming. “I did it.”

Claudio's fingers feathered across her bare stomach, and he knew she was tangible. Real. “What did you do?”

“He was being a jerk so I did it. I said we're done. We broke up,” Cassiopeia admitted. There was a guilt in the dragonfly's eyes she recognized, and she held his hand. 

“So, will you...” Claudio could not get himself to finish quickly. His heart was pounding. “Will you... well, be mine?”

“Of course,” Cassiopeia replied, and with their hands still joined together, she sat beside him. “I'm sorry about earlier. I should've known better. I was thinking about it; that's why I came back.”

Claudio leaned closer to her. “I'm glad you came back,” he uttered fondly, and snaked an arm around her waist. “Tell me if I go too far.”

Cassiopeia smiled and leaned into him, her head on his shoulder. He was going too far, already cuddling her when she said she was his a minute ago, but she could not push herself to care. The affection was adorable, and she admired it. 

“I was being bad before you came in,” Claudio added. 

“I heard you being yelled at,” Cassiopeia acknowledged, crossed her legs, and her eyelashes beat against each other as her eyelids fluttered in tiredness. “So, do I keep you sane?”

“I guess,” Claudio mumbled, although there was never even an ephemeral minute where he was sane. “I lo—” No. He still hated himself.

“Finish,” demanded Cassiopeia.

“I love you,” Claudio whispered bashfully, and a blush spread through his cheeks like smoke through the air after a bonfire. Before the moth could respond, he asked, “Will you sleep with me?”

“Um...” Cassiopeia hesitated, and played with her bracelets in an indecisive decision. “Well... Sure.”

Claudio's heart jumped in a child-like excitement, and he crashed her down to the sheets, freed a soft, girly yelp and a giggle from her throat, smiled at the sound, better than music. He draped an arm over her, protected her like a mother, provided comfort and warmth to her, shuffled closer to her, until there was not an inch of space between her back and his stomach. His hand crawled on top of hers, he nuzzled the back of her neck, and his lips grazed across her thin, chain necklace.

The light was on, it kept him alert, bestowed a yellowish gleam over the suffering, however, he closed his eyes, and it was dark for him, despite the light that snuck through his eyelids. Being a moth, was Cassiopeia sleeping with her eyes shut, or did she leave them open, attracted to the light? Did she sleep at all? Could she sleep in his arms, or was she afraid? Wear out, as all sound became vague, and sink into the comfort of the sheets, bury herself in his arms? Would he still wake up with her close by? 

A sudden peace fell over him as she breathed gently, fell over them, and rewarded them with slumber. Soon, darkness conquered the light, silence hung overhead, and it was nighttime; everybody was asleep.

There was a slight stir in Cassiopeia's sleep, and in response Claudio awoke, fixed his attention onto her, eyes fixated on the back of her neck as she squirmed. If she was in a nightmare, what could he do to drive her out? His arms tightened around her frame like she was a teddy bear, she calmed, but only for a second, then she mumbled incoherently, kept mumbling, until her words faded into clarity.

“Wingless boy...”

Claudio's antennae perked up attentively, and he lifted his head up, but to his surprise his neck was choked when it was moved to an extent. He was chained by the collar to the bed. Listening was his only choice.

“There's a sound...”

In this silence, what did she mean? He wanted to inch closer to her, but his ankles squished against a piece of metal, and he realized he was chained by the ankles to the bed. She was safe, though, or at least he hoped, but her next words frightened him, disquieted him.

“And I want you to be careful.”

Then she said no more.

Chapter 8: Chapter 7: Desire

Notes:

warnings for suicidal thoughts and puberty because that may be awkward. and other sexy stuff

Claudio was sleepy after a restless night. Annoyance was tied in Cassiopeia's expression as he clung to her, rested his chin on her shoulder countless times, apologized for his short temper, held and let go of her hand reluctantly, repeatedly. Paranoid perforated his thoughts, and he preferred protected presently. 

As her thigh was groped frequently for about a minute, the moth snapped. “God, what is bothering you?”

Acting clueless, Claudio retorted, “What do you mean?”

“You're being very touchy and antsy,” Cassiopeia snarled, and shifted away from him.

Claudio forced his hands in his lap, and fidgeted, kicked his legs gently. “Did not notice it.”

Cassiopeia almost scoffed. “Seriously?” She began to kick her legs, sway her ankles, thrust her hands into her lap, and intertwine her fingers, twiddle her thumbs, mimick him.

That made Claudio notice. “Oh.”

“So what's up?” Cassiopeia asked in an irritated tone, ceased her movements.

“You, um—” Claudio hesitated, kept writhing. “Never mind! It was probably a hallucination.”

“But what was it? Did I do something?” Cassiopeia's voice flipped into concern.

“You said there was a sound, and that you want me to be careful. And you called me wingless! I'm not! I still have three more!” Claudio exploded, then smirked and joked, “Cunt.”

Cassiopeia playfully smacked him across the cheek. “Dick.”

Claudio giggled like a mischievous schoolboy.

“Wingless dick.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“I need help doing that.”

Her flirty response aroused him, but he rolled his eyes. “I'll help... I guess.”

“You had better.”

“Or what?”

“Or else I will chain you to my bed and tease you.”

Claudio could feel a warmth surge through his body, and his pupils erupted, skin tingled, stomach corkscrewed. His voice slipped out sultry and it was hard to speak eloquently. “Stop it.”

“Sensitive, huh?” Her voice was a tease itself.

“I might make another big mistake.”

“You can make up for that big mistake.”

“Dear God, you're making me feel so fucking excited...”

Cassiopeia chuckled. “Alright, I'll stop...” she whined, and shuffled herself closer to her new boyfriend. “I'm sorry I said that last night. But I must've been sleep talking, because I remember saying that in my dream. And the sound, well...”

Claudio looked at her with a face full of a lust he was trying to swallow. “What is the sound?”

“Oh, if you weren't so easily anxious, then I'd tell you,” Cassiopeia huffed, and in shame, she looked away. “I always tell people that there is a sound is the walls and no one ever believes me.”

Claudio could simply relate, but he replied in a melancholy tone of voice. “I know. I tell people that there are people saying bad things about me and nobody ever acknowledges me and they call me crazy and they laugh at me.”

His poignancy made Cassiopeia's antennae hang and she inched closer to him so that their hips collided. It sounded so innocent, to hear him talk about his hallucinations in a way portraying a fake reality. “It's frustrating. Every time I press my ear to the wall, I hear a sound. It's an occasional tick. And nobody every hears it.”

“It could be a rat in the walls,” Claudio guessed. “Or a clock from another room.”

“It can't be. I told the staff, and they don't hear it. They said it probably stopped when they went near it. I must have the worst luck, then,” Cassiopeia sulked. “I bet you won't hear it.”

“I can hear it right now,” Claudio said. “Tick... tick... It's frequent.”

Cassiopeia ran her hands over her face, stressed. She listened to the air for a few seconds, the wind as it hissed, and was confused. “Well, I don't hear it. It's never frequent. You must be hearing things—”

“I always hear things! Always! Everybody says that!” Claudio hopped off of the wooden bench, fury fumed from his frame, and he set his boots on the grass. “Nobody ever believes me, and they all shrug it off! Why doesn't anybody care?”

“I care, I—”

“No, you don't! If you did, you would believe me! You just want to be right!” The dragonfly crossed his arms. He wished to leave, to storm, to vomit his thoughts on the her, but the fire inside of him sizzled, and he stifled the urge to pour the gasoline over it. 

“Just calm down and listen to me,” Cassiopeia sighed, reached out for Claudio's hand, which he refused to give. Hopelessness washed over her like a tsunami and she found herself grudging. 

“I don't think you can understand,” Claudio grumbled. He turned his eyes to the entryway of the courtyard, and though here was the place he could be free, he desired to go inside, and possibly sleep, and embrace himself inside of his tight cubicle instead of the fenced nature he could breathe evenly in.

Cassiopeia sighed again and crossed her legs. “I'm trying— I've been trying,” she said, and as her boyfriend pivoted, she added, “I guess I'll see you later. We need to figure ourselves out.”

Claudio agreed, and he started his way to the door. The breeze felt glorious against his build, it made him want to stay, but he could not bare to be within the same walls as someone he was bitter with. How could she disregard him so easily?

Now, he was aware that he was going to sleep in spite of himself, having nothing else to do, having nobody else to talk to, unless he wanted to pour himself out to Felicity, which he did not want to. She did not look at him respectfully since he embarrassed her with his angry dependence, and did not wake him up in a welcoming manner. There was a grudge clear as the finest glass of water.

As he was moving through the door, he saw Travis, and stared at the ground, though it did not make him invisible.

The bee noticed. “Hey, Claudio.”

Claudio only slightly glanced at him. “Hello.”

“Is it nice outside? I was just going to go out there,” Travis asked him, still without his eyes.

“I guess. It's cloudy. I'm going to bed,” the dragonfly replied, his voice not lifting or lowering, giving him an emotionless aura.

“Okay. Thank you,” Travis said, and was out of sight, behind his friend.

Their encounter was awkward. Claudio began to pick up speed as he walked straight to his room. The only thing he truly desired was to sleep alone, buried in his mattress, despite its poor comfort. Never would he feel the way he felt with Cassiopeia against his chest, though, so soft and warm, free from trouble. It was the longest he had ever slept in days, even counting the minutes he spent lying awake after hearing Cassiopeia talk in her sleep.

When his head hit his mattress, immediately his mind trailed off to Cassiopeia. She was so beautiful, and she did not brag about it, despite her name. Perhaps, did she not know the story of the mythological queen Cassiopeia? The queen who claimed she was prettier than the sea nymphs, and who was so full of herself? However, if she did know, would she think that she was named because she was not that beautiful, and her parents wanted her to believe it? She was, though. She was beautiful.

Her chestnut hair that fell down in waves to her shoulders, her celestial eyes, her perfect lips, her curves... Claudio's heart fluttered and his stomach squirmed at the thought. How he wanted to hook his fingers around the straps on her bra, bite her until she was all pink, pin her down on the bed and...

He recalled the flirts earlier, but instead of feeling more than he already did, he felt guilt. The vulgar name he gave her to start it, and how she replied similarly; he realized that he might have offended her. She carried the flirtatious conversation, though, until she noticed that she was making him feel close to uncontrollable, and it was so sweet of her. Claudio felt like he did not deserve her. He was rotten. A girl who accepts boundaries with a guy that perhaps raped her, so to speak, it was not healthy. The burden was on his back, though, and she honestly did not care about the night that beheld his mistake, and he did. How could she let it go so easily?

He loved her so much. He imagined a crystalline ring hugging her left finger, a white dress flowing down like a folkloric weeping willow's branches down from her bosom to her toes, a white veil flowing down to her lips, which he would soon cover with his. Their cherubic marriage.

And he envisioned her belly, round, full with a baby or two. Their baby. The secret if it was going to be a moth or dragonfly, male or female. How it was going to grow up loving them, and with their love. He imagined cradling their newborn baby, its jagged cry after leaving the womb, stroking its soft cheek with his fingertip, a fatherly smile across his face—

Then he remembered his worst flaw, and was in despair.

But what if their sex would reward them with such a charm, and he was fertile? He knew that female hybrids adored offspring, and that he would never find love while infertile. Did Cassiopeia not love him?

But he loved her, for she was his aphrodisiac, and he closed his eyes, dreamed she was on top of him. His hand eased down his garments, and he began to work with himself until he was left panting.

Then, he slid up his pants, and fell asleep.

*****

How long was he asleep? When he awoke, he noticed he was feeling well, which must have been a symptom of his pleasure. With a yawn, he held himself up with his arms, and stretched his three wings. He was glad he slept, because he was feeling better than usual. Perhaps it was time to visit Cassiopeia and apologize to her.

Claudio climbed out of his cage, and stretched again as he walked to the courtyard, assuming she was still there, as she was a social girl. The door was already swung wide open, so he understood that it was not time for the hybrids to come inside. He could not have been sleeping for that long anyhow.

He cupped the edge of the doorway with one hand, and spied for Cassiopeia until he caught her, with the shade of the waving, vibrant lush engulfing her, and someone else. Her boyfriend. Her ex-boyfriend. 

She's cheating.

Claudio frowned at the voice. No. They were just friends still, not lovers.

Cassiopeia laughed at a joke which he could not comprehend, revealed her snowy teeth. She looked so attractive as she experienced such jubilation. But as his focus fixed on them for a longer time, he began to understand, and hear their words.

“I knew you didn't, baby,” said Cassiopeia's ex.

Then the moth replied, “I know, right?”

He pressed an arm against her waist, and Claudio felt his hybrid parts droop, his stomach twist, his knuckles tighten around the doorframe.

“You're such a bad girl.”

“I'll be even more naughty later.”

Claudio stiffened in interest. What was he in for later?

“Well, I can't wait. You'll look so good under me.”

But she was Claudio's girl, not his...

“Let's do it in secret later... You know why.”

Right?

“If I'm honest, I'm a little impatient...”

“Well, then... Let's go.” And Cassiopeia winked.

Claudio's breaths grew heavy immediately with fury, and just when he was going to turn away, when he thought things could not get any worse, Cassiopeia leaned into her ex-boyfriend, and he embraced her, and he kissed her. And she kissed him back. She kissed him hard, thrust her tongue into his mouth, and indulged herself in the romance. She never kissed Claudio that well, not even close to it, and the dragonfly swore he growled like a dog at the sight of their love.

She lied to him. She lied about everything. She perhaps did not forgive him, and Claudio wanted to kill himself for it. Upset tears collected in his eyes.

“Come on, Cass, let's go in the mens' bathroom. I'd go in the storage room, but I don't want to trigger a memory...”

“Thanks, Ceph. You're so sweet.”

She did not forgive him! She did not! Claudio looked left, in the direction on the kitchen door, aching for the knife. He had to do it. He had to kill himself.

But instead of darting to his desired direction, he ran right, and stumbled into the men's restroom, as tears ate at his vision, and soon blurred the world in front of him. He quickly cleared his eyes, and frantically searched for a hiding place, and in luck, he found the closet. In there, he would crack open the door, and peek on Cassiopeia and her boyfriend, whose name was— what? Could he possibly stop them and steal her, knock her boyfriend out and dominate her, seduce her?

Soon, they were in, Claudio was hiding, and Cassiopeia chuckled cheekily. “Don't tell anyone I'm in here.”

Her boyfriend smiled and there was a click; he locked the door. “No one can come in, so nobody will know.”

Cassiopeia scoffed. “Oh, I'm sure that paranoid boy is going to go and hunt me.”

“Don't worry about him. I'll beat him the next time he touches you like the way he did earlier,” her boyfriend threatened, and triggered Claudio's paranoia.

“He's so perverted. So fucking weird,” Cassiopeia complained. “I had to agree to sleep with him last night or he would have killed me.”

Claudio's bottom lip trembled as he overheard. If she had said no, he would understand, would he not? What would he do if she did not want to sleep with him? Was she right?

Psychopath.

Her boyfriend held her in his arms as he spoke. “Ew. He thought he was attractive enough to sleep with you?”

Cassiopeia nodded. “Mhm. Now... Let's forget about him and you give me what I want...”

Her boyfriend stripped her of her shirt, then of her leggings, until she was in her undergarments. Claudio blushed through tears, though he felt so forbidden to love her.  Her boyfriend's shirt was tugged off, and the dragonfly gloomily gaped at his scrawny frame, and compared him to himself. He was so desirable in comparison.

“Come on, I see that bulge. Let that sexy dick of yours out,” Cassiopeia urged teasingly. How was she so talented at dirty talk? How did she do it?

And when her boyfriend's fingers pushed the straps of her bra down, displayed her breasts, and began to play with them, Claudio looked away. How he wished for his hands to be right there... For Cassiopeia to talk like that to him... 

Her boyfriend jerked down his clothes, and immediately, his girlfriend gawked at his hard dick, so massive in size. Claudio compared himself again. Would it feel better to move inside of Cassiopeia with a bigger dick than smaller? 

As Claudio studied his growing body in the mirror, he was in despair, just about finished with puberty, unhappy with how he turned out. His voice was not too high, and he was reminded of that each time his finger grazed over the bump on his throat, the only quality he was proud of. But he observed his height, how he did not exceed six feet, and his dick, how small it was compared to the other hybrids' at his school. Why could he not be just like his father? Tall, and muscular? Attractive?

“Let's go fuck in the shower. I can't wait to feel you inside of me. Come and take my virginity. Maybe you can breed me,” Cassiopeia said demandingly, and Claudio snapped.

His heart shattered like broken glass, it left pieces crumbling to the floor, and tears fogged his vision until they streamed down his cheeks. He could no longer bare the sight, and squeezed his eyes shut, freed more tears, stifled a whimper in order to keep silent. 

The sound of Cassiopeia's boyfriend's first thrust and a moan rung through the air like a bell, and Claudio blocked his ears. He could not listen to her as she cheated, lied, fucked someone she said she broke up with. He could not listen and be aroused; that would be unsound, and although he wanted the pleasure of the live pornography displayed for only him, he did not get himself to listen to even just Cassiopeia.

When the couple began to get going, Claudio quietly pushed open the closet doors just a bit for him to fit, and cautiously squeezed himself out of the tight crevice. The shower curtain was translucent, and he surreptitiously sneaked across the room so he would not be seen, but also took a second to glance at their figures as they bred. Cassiopeia was bent over, jerked forward at each thrust from behind. Claudio turned open the door as a rush of jealousy swam through his bloodstream, it clicked, startled him, and he slipped out, shut the door behind him.

Then he sighed, and then cried, and then, with his hands wiping away tears, he sauntered to his room. 

She never loved you.

Claudio let out a high whine, and silently retorted, She did, although he knew he was wrong. What did fighting the voices matter anyhow if he was doing it for Cassiopeia? 

Her boyfriend will kill you.

“He won't,” he whispered shakily, but that must have been wrong, too. 

Instead of climbing into his room, he pressed his arms against the edge of his floor, and sobbed into them, too weak to move.

Kill yourself.

“No...”

She doesn't forgive you.

“She's just faking it.”

She's not lying.

“She is.”

Go ahead and kill yourself.

“No!”

You're a piece of shit.

“No, I'm not—”

You're ugly. You're a dick. You're a whore. You look terrible. You're so unattractive. Kill yourself.

Claudio tried to respond to everything, but his replies were jumbled together, and he mumbled, gibbered, with sobs so intense that he sounded like he was speaking his own language.

Kill yourself. She doesn't forgive you. She hates you. You ruined everything. Your life is pointless. Go and die. Kill yourself. Nobody will love you. Everybody hates you. Kill yourself. Suffer. 

Claudio dropped to his knees, and as he was called the ugliest hybrid, his hand reached out for the bell in Travis's room. As he was shamed for being broken, he chimed it once, and as he was told to die again, he struck it another time, and when he called many foul names, he punched it repeatedly, screaming as loud as the voices.

“Make it stop, please!” he shrieked, and jumped when he saw his mother beside him, blood dripping from her face the same way it did nine years ago, in a bloodied December. 

He curled up tightly in a ball and shielded his face from the world around him as a female figure flew towards him. 

She's going to kill you.

It was Felicity, and the nurse called his name softly, grabbed his hand. “What happened?”

“No! Don't take me—” Claudio began.

“I'm not taking you anywhere. Could you tell me what happened?” Felicity asked.

“Get out of my face,” the dragonfly sputtered, and made an attempt to pull his wrist away.

“It's okay. I'm going to take care of you. I want to know what happened.” Felicity's smile was gentle, and Claudio had to give in, but he did so with distrust, met eyes with her slowly.

“I was...” he paused, and, with a nervous expression, looked around. “I guess, freaking out, I think.”

“What happened before that?” Felicity questioned, and lifted him from the ground, sat him upright.

Claudio adored the one second he was held in her arms, but it subsided, and he answered. “I was jealous.”

“Okay. Do you want to stay here or come with me? I can't do anything to help, you know, not yet,” offered Felicity.

Claudio played with the split hem of his shirt and responded dubiously. “I want to stay here and go to bed.”

“Are you feeling well enough to be by yourself? You were ringing the bell and screaming like you were being murdered,” the nurse commented.

Claudio shrugged and began to randomly play with his hair, tugging it, twisting it. “I was overreacting. I think I just need to go rest for a bit...”

“Well, do whatever you think is best. I'll be in my office. Ring the bell if you are in need,” said Felicity softly, and summoned a smile that shaped Claudio's cheeks slightly, but the gesture seemed fake. 

The dragonfly lifted himself from the ground with a grunt as Felicity walked away. His heart was still sore, he remembered, and the bashful beam he feigned withered away from his face into a quivering frown. Tears were on their way again, raging close by like a strong tide, rushing towards him, until they sat in the form of beads in his eyes.

To counteract humiliation, he crawled into his room, and sat against the wall. His knees were curled to his chest, his hands were on them, and tears fell down from his eyes. How could Cassiopeia betray him so quickly? So carelessly?

Before he took a nap, he thought of her as such a sweet young girl. But behind his back, she was so cruel, and her heart was poisonous. He recalled the times she kissed him, cared enough to kiss him, and he was struck with wanderlust, but his desire was to travel back in time and notice. Kiss back. Perhaps she would love him if he did.

So stupid.

He felt so foolish to effortlessly believe her when she told him that she broke up with her boyfriend. She did not. She was such a liar; how could he not see it?

Why are you so stupid?

“I'm not,” he snapped through tears.

Then he heard it. The sounds of love. A love he despised, loathed, abhorred. Cassiopeia's moaning, kissing, her boyfriend's thrusts... How did they manage to get here? He blocked his ears tightly, and could still hear it, so he hummed, but could still hear it.

It was not long before Cassiopeia's sounds excited him, made him throb, unleashed his scents, stimulated him like a pornography would. Hopeless, he removed his hands from his ears, he sighed, breathed deeply in arousal, and wiped away his tears.

And impatiently, he straddled the corner of his mattress, did not bother to undress, and ground on it, the friction immediately pleasing him. His hands clutched the sides of the black material, knuckles white, veins peeping out.

As he was delighted, whimpers slipped out from his throat, either from his crying or the pleasure, or possibly both. And after minutes of grating himself on the mattress, he cursed in a hiss, moved his hips faster, and with grunts, came inside of his jeans. He had felt this way before, just earlier, but now, he finally was attentive to it, and he wanted more. He wanted to feel this with Cassiopeia, but would she want to? She would love it more with her boyfriend, surely, not with an unattractive, perverted, weird, infertile, crazy, psychotic, three-winged hybrid with no life, who loses himself in fiction and in delusions like an idiot.

The wetness inside of his clothes was uncomfortable, so he stripped himself, even took off his sweat-soaked shirt. Now, he only wore his bandages and a collar that hugged him, choked him, though he loved it. It was like Cassiopeia's evil hands around his neck, and he loved it so much.

Then, just like last time, he fell asleep.

A change welcomed him when he awoke; there slept a pile of clothes against his wall, a snack in a wrapper, he had a blanket across his frame, and there was a note. His own clothes were missing, and with wonder, he read the note after stretching. The words were scribbled in a sweet handwriting:

Good evening, Claudio. I'm washing your clothes and your boots, so you may wear the clothes I put out for you for now. And I noticed that you still have your bandages, although I was not inspecting your body. Felicity says she wants to check on your wrists. Usually, Aggressives don't deserve what you have, but I gave you a blanket to keep you warm and unexposed, and a granola bar. Felicity also says you're getting a little thinner. You need to come to all three meals a day. You've been spending a lot of your days here sleeping, and although it is not a bad thing to nap, you need to find times to eat, too. I'm expecting to see you in the cafeteria at 5. ~Sharon

Claudio frowned and dropped the note. “Deseo dormir hasta la muerte,” he grumbled. 

Though he was on the brink of swallowing himself in the blankets and sleeping, he still pulled on the new pile of clothes. To his surprise, they were so comfortable, and he could sleep in them if he could. A gray, sweater that was too big for him sat on his shoulders, and pajama pants embraced his hips. There were two giant, vertical slits in the back of the sweater so his wings could peek out comfortably, unlike his black shirt, which only had holes he had to shove his wings through.

Just as he was going to get up for the restroom, he heard a couple of girls in the hall, chatting, stunning him.

“Does Cassiopeia even want to be our friend anymore?”

“I know. It feels like she just cares about boys now.”

“She's literally crying in the bathroom because of boys.”

Claudio felt a pang of emotion, and whether it was guilt, sorrow, or sadness he did not know. Cassiopeia was... Crying?

Chapter 9: Chapter 8: Changes

“Be brutally honest,” Claudio began, as he was perched in front of Cassiopeia on the dewy grass. “Was it better before me?”

Cassiopeia shrugged, and the sun's rays laid a golden lustre in her hair. “I guess I haven't been with you long enough to know.” 

“Do you think I am a pervert?” Claudio asked, and started to tear blades of grass from the dirt impulsively.

“No, just clingy and touchy,” Cassiopeia replied softly, uncomfortably.

“Am I weird?” the dragonfly interrogated, and fell, his calves hitting the green earth.

“No.” Cassiopeia sounded honest for some reason.

“Am I paranoid?”

“Yeah.”

Claudio's antennae drooped.

“Otherwise you wouldn't be asking all these questions.”

Claudio nodded gloomily in a defeated agreement. “Am I unattractive?”

“What?” 

“Am I unattractive, Cassio?”

“Of course not.”

Claudio felt his throat swell as she answered the questions with lies. “Then why did you tell your boyfriend the opposite?”

Cassiopeia sighed, suggested a cumbersome truth. “Well, Claudio... First, how do you know?”

“I was... um...” Claudio could not think of a lie in time.

“But we said this all in the bathroom. How do you know?”

“I was...”

“Just tell the truth,” demanded Cassiopeia, with a hand that was waved through the air.

“Hiding in the closet.”

Cassiopeia shook her head with a second sigh. “Listen, I lied to you the other day. My boyfriend and I didn't break up. I want to, but he's been friends with me since I was a kid. We are both moths,” she explained, paused so Claudio could take it in.

“Then what do I matter?” the dragonfly ended up asking.

“Well, he's been a jerk lately. He's pressuring me to hurt you and hate you because of what you did to me. He wants me to be traumatized. Listen, Claud, I love you... But this relationship is hard. It's hard to keep secrets,” Cassiopeia admitted, and her antennae fell so that both of theirs hung over their heads like a wilted flower. “It's hard to break up with him when I've known him for so long.”

“Oh.” It was all Claudio could squeak. He began to get up, but was halted.

“Wait!” 

Claudio slowly lowered himself. “What?”

“Um... I didn't mean any of what I said. I'm really sorry,” the moth apologized.

“It feels normal,” Claudio added, watched her beautiful hands rub her knees anxiously.

“This is different. I'm not an ordinary person to you. I should have stopped myself, and him,” Cassiopeia said. “Do you want to make up for it somehow? We could just sit here and lie in the sun, or we could have lunch together at the same table, or... I don't know. What do you think?”

Claudio's blood went cold as he hesitated. “Br— Never mind...”

“You can say anything,” Cassiopeia pressed, and grabbed his hand, her palm sensing the sweat in his. She looked up into those deep eyes, they were hesitant, shy, and they spoke to her more than he ever did. “I won't judge you.”

“You're going to say no, but—”

“I won't.”

“You will—”

Cassiopeia jerked his fingers, silenced him. Then, she leaned in, cupped his cheek, the heel of her hand brushing against his mature stubble. She heard him gasp, felt him start to shiver, and, with a second hand on his shoulder, she kissed him. He wrapped an arm around her back, closed his eyes, and sank into the romance. Cassiopeia caressed his face, her fingers soon were trapped in his dark curls, and she could tell he loved this. Needed this. So she prolonged the kiss until he couldn't breathe, and when that time came, he was already trembling in her arms, clutching her skin, pulling her closer. Was he struggling? She pulled away, and he fell back on the grass, taking her with him.

Claudio kissed her cheek for a quick second, his eyes still closed, for the sun was overhead.

Cassiopeia giggled. “Say it.”

“That kiss already made us up,” Claudio said as an excuse.

“No it didn't. Come on, we need something that will last longer than thirty seconds,” Cassiopeia urged.

Claudio's voice hushed. “I want to...” he paused, and sweat began to creep onto his skin. His voice was tiny, “Breed you.”

Cassiopeia's heart stopped. “Um...” she giggled awkwardly. What could she say besides 'no'? “My season is gone.”

“I thought you..?” Claudio sounded as if his heart was shattered.

“No, it's gone. I'm sorry.”

Claudio's temper was diminished, and remembering the day before, when Cassiopeia mated with her boyfriend, he threw her off of him and sat up. She whined and he immediately defended himself. “Then how could you fuck your boyfriend who you don't even want to be with? Don't lie to me. I know you don't forgive me, Cassio, I know, but I'll be gentle this time. I swear! You don't have to lie.”

“I'm not lying.” Cassiopeia's voice was bitter as she rubbed her thigh, seemingly hurt.

“Yesterday you said you didn't forgive me!” Claudio shouted. “I will be gentle! I promise! As a punishment you can hurt me, if you want. I want to be hurt, Cassio. They say I deserve it. ¡Oh, puedes joderme en pedazos! Please!”

“Claud, I have no idea what you just said, but I might be...” Cassiopeia's voice trailed off.

Claudio scooted over to Cassiopeia as her voice hinted a disappointing news. “Don't say infertile.”

“I'm infertile,” Cassiopeia said, and her eyes averted to his.

“Oh, I guess—”

“No, I'm kidding, I'm pregnant.”

Claudio's face flushed. “No you aren't! You're so young!”

“Your daddy boasts about having a son at fifteen. Come on, believe me—”

Claudio began to ramble, “Is it mine? Is it! I thought I didn't cum that night. I thought I was infertile! Do you know how much I wanted a ba—” 

“Shut up, boy!” Cassiopeia shrieked, then exhaled a breath. The dragonfly looked slightly frightened and mostly sorry. She quieted. “It's not yours. You didn't cum that night. You're still infertile. It's my boyfriend's.”

She stared at him, waiting for a reply. His head started to dip, which he rested on his knee. His antennae drooped slowly. He started to tear the grass. He eventually blocked his ears. He let out a breath, a deep one, shaky, and it did not sound as if he was cooling down. He was... Upset. Hurt. Injured. It was like he was impaled through the heart. Cassiopeia put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don't cry,” she whispered. “Focus on my voice. Only mine.” She pulled his wrists from his ears, wiped away his young tears. “I'm really sorry. Please, just listen to me. Do you want to lay on my chest?”

Claudio tried to reply, but what came out was unclear.

“Do you want to see Felicity?”

Another incoherent reply.

Cassiopeia hugged him, sat on her knees, and hugged him. Kissed him on his salty cheek. “I didn't realize how much it was going to hurt. I'm sorry. It means a lot to you, right?”

Claudio nodded, and returned the hug. “Never let me go.”

“I won't. Don't worry. Do you want to see Felicity?” Cassiopeia asked again.

“She can't do anything, I said,” Claudio repeated, though it was clear this time.

“I'll tell her later to help you. This is getting ridiculous. Her not helping, I mean. You could eventually hurt yourself terribly,” Cassiopeia told him before dragging him to her breasts, which he rested his cheek on. “Lie with me under this tree. Close your eyes and fall asleep.”

As Cassiopeia shuffled backwards to the tree's rough trunk, Claudio wrapped his arms around her. Then, with a voice that was still sour, he said, “Why did you fuck your boyfriend yesterday if you can't fuck me?”

“He manipulated me,” Cassiopeia replied. 

“You said you were impatient,” argued Claudio. 

“I just wanted it over with so I wouldn't have to worry for the rest of the day.”

Claudio furrowed his eyebrows. “You brought it up.”

“Yeah, I wanted it over with. Go to sleep,” Cassiopeia hissed. It sounded like she did not want to deal with the situation. 

“¿Apalstaré al feto dentro de ti?” Claudio asked, lifting himself from the moth's torso.

“English,” Cassiopeia demanded softly.

“Should I lie on your stomach?” Claudio asked, though what he said before, translated, was not the same question. 

“Lie on the side of my body. Thank you for being so thoughtful,” praised Cassiopeia as her mate slid down to her side. His face was buried in her neck, and the fresh scent of her hair locked itself in his nose. She held his hand after kissing it. “I love you.”

But Claudio was swallowed in his thoughts. “Quiero abortar, tirar el feto y volver a criar,” he breathed eerily. “I love you, too.”

Soon, the world hushed for Claudio, and he listened to his love sing a sweet song, inhaled, exhaled, peacefully on her side. He soon fell asleep.

*****

When Claudio slipped out of the bathroom, Archie was standing there, so hauntingly, creepily, grazing a finger down his thigh seductively.

The dragonfly stiffened and said, “It's yours now.”

“No. I'm not here for the bathroom. I'm here for you,” Archie corrected him, and started to undo his belt.

Claudio did not reply right after, but a cheeky, little smile slowly plastered his face, a scoff escaped from his throat—similarly sounding to his sister's—and he soon croaked, “Then, try to catch me if you can.” With that, he bolted across the hall.

Archie frowned immediately. “This is not a game!” he yelled, and chased after him like a wolf would a bunny.

Claudio's boots pounded against the playful, child-like carpet in the nursery straight across, but far from the bathrooms. Babies yelped, startled, and mothers screamed at him to get out, some even slamming the word “Aggressive” in his face. Archie swore behind him, raging, but Claudio laughed, for he saw the humor in his anger. When he climbed inside of a crib that was perched against the wall, right under the roof, he laughed again, through the anxious crows of mothers that claimed he was to break it. He felt like a kid again, a troublemaker like Tom Sawyer.

“Is your hard-on going limp yet?” he asked teasingly, and a woman gasped at his vulgarity. The crib creaked, and he leapt out of it, shaking his wings until he floated at a dangerous angle. It took more strength than normal to fly with three wings.

Archie stood under him. “The naughtier you are, the rougher I am with you,” he warned.

“I like girls, so go fuck Zander or someone!” Claudio argued as he dropped to the ground, failing to land on the soles of his feet. At this point, mothers were blocking the ears of their babies, shielding their delicate brains from his language. He was now on his knees, though sitting sloppily, and Archie engulfed him.

The prostitute pinched his cheek and growled. “I don't have the patience for you.”

“Then don't fuck me!” Claudio protested.

Archie slapped him and grabbed his collar. “Too bad. You're on my schedule right after your father, and he's done with. It's your turn. Do not argue with me. Don't run from me ever again. Hear me?”

Claudio nodded and his courage for trouble subsided, leaving him weak. “But you made Momma hate me.”

“You're in prison. Your mommy's long gone and she never even visited. Nice try lying,” Archie said, and dragged the dragonfly out of the nursery, potentially burning him on the carpet.

In the hallway, Claudio's clothes became dirty as they brushed along the cement floor. He was blocking his ears again, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Hey! Stop blocking your ears and answer!” Archie screamed, and Claudio jumped, lowering his arms. “What position do you want?”

“None!” Claudio snapped back.

“Don't talk to me like that. What position?” 

“I don't care!”

Archie jerked him forward, and the dragonfly's breath hitched. “I'll shove my big cock in your mouth and cum down your throat if you keep talking to me like that.”

“It's so small I could easily bite it right off of your ba—” Claudio was thrown across the hallway.

Before he could get up, he felt the worker's weight on top of him, and his erection as it pressed in between his jeans' back pockets. He squirmed underneath him, gritted his teeth, and grunted, the gravelly sound being jerked every time Archie thrust. His breasts were held in his palms, and his ear was being sucked roughly.

“This hurts,” Claudio whined as his body rubbed against the hard floor. Archie let out a moan straight into his ear, amplified by the small amount of air between Claudio's ear and his mouth. “Shut up.”

That made Archie moan louder, made Claudio writhe. Archie slapped his ass. “Sensitive, huh?”

Cassiopeia had said the exact same thing, and Claudio shattered into a rage. “Shut up! I hate you! I hate you! I h—” Another slap. “Ow! I hate you, I— Get off! Please! Get off of me, now!” His hair was yanked, making him yelp. “Fuck! Please, please, please—”

Claudio's pleas died into crying, and Archie laughed. “Use your words, sweetheart. Please what? Please fuck you? I'm doing it. Don't you worry.”

“No!” Claudio shrieked, his high scream like a raptor's. It stunned Archie, and curtains could be heard flinging open; hybrids wanted to check out the scene. Immediately, paranoia struck him as eyes settled on him, and he shielded his head.

Archie kissed the spot behind his ear. “Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. You're going to love this,” he assured him deceivingly. The hand on Claudio's left breast crawled to his pounding, racing heart, and Archie acknowledged the fear in its pace, gave him another kiss and stopped thrusting. “Calm down, please... You know, your brother loved his time with me. Your father does, too. I know you're going to like it as well. So don't be afraid. You're overreacting.” 

Claudio screamed again, and in the midst of it, Archie's fingers were shoved in his mouth, silencing him. He bit them, forced them to withdraw from his lips. Then, he saw a figure float across the floor, heading into the doorway to the nurse's office. But in his discomfort, he locked eyes with the hybrid, and it was Cassiopeia. He reached out for her, but she gave him a sorry look and turned away. If Cassiopeia loved him, she would help him, right? So was she real now? Or was their love not? 

“Stop screaming,” Archie hushed.

“Cassio, Cassio...” Claudio sobbed as the moth was swallowed in the other room. “Cassio...”

Archie kissed him again and rubbed the tender opening of his missing wing, caused the hybrid under him to wince. “Shh... I can smell you. You're getting so horny...”

“I'm not!” Claudio yelled with red cheeks.

“Your body needs this. You may not feel like you want it, but your nerves send messages to the hybrid part in your brain when you feel sexual contact, and it makes your body want it, no matter who it is giving it to you. Hybrids are meant for breeding. Trust me, you're going to want more,” Archie said. 

“I'm only a boy,” Claudio whimpered.

“Sharon told me you must have been masturbating in your room yesterday. She could smell it in your clothes and in the atmosphere. Masturbation means you're ready to breed,” Archie told him, then smelled him again. “Your scents are so strong. You didn't even get hard last time and we ran out of time. I think you're finally growing up as a hybrid.”

“I don't want to grow up. Quiero ser el bebé de Momma hasta que muera,” Claudio cooed, and began to sob more intensely.

“Shh... Hybrids are always emotional in their seasons... But you have no reason to cry. I'm going to satisfy you,” Archie consoled him. He thrust again rhythmically until Claudio seemed to calm down, and that was when he climbed off of him. “Let's go into the room.”

Claudio sighed hopelessly and followed him into the office, not even looking into the eyes of the secretary. “Why can't I just take a pill?”

Archie giggled and held the door of his room for the hybrid, allowing him in first. “It's the last day of August. From now, your season's going to decline until it eventually stops and you can't be aroused. You need this. If you don't let me fuck you, you're going to regret your choices until next summer.”

Claudio sat down uncomfortably on the white sheets. “I want this over with,” he said, inspired by Cassiopeia's choice.

“Okay,” Archie agreed, and pushed down his pants, freeing his erection, leaving his shirt on. He placed himself behind Claudio, so that the dragonfly was in between his legs, so close that he rubbed against his dick. His hands worked with Claudio's jeans, which he undid for him, along with his shirt, which he unbuttoned. 

“I can hear your jagged breathing. Please don't cry,” he said softly, and let out the bun from his own hair. “I could tie up your hair so you don't get too hot.”

Claudio stared at his body, terrified. He did not reply.

Archie's hands moved to Claudio's jeans and he was ready to push them to his ankles. “Are you ready?”

“I'll never be,” Claudio whined, closed his eyes.

“You'll be okay,” Archie said, and jerked down the jeans to his ankles, blushed at the sight of his nakedness, of his genitals especially, cupped his hips to tease him. “You look so pretty in my lap, sweetheart... Oh, don't cry. Aww... Don't tremble. There's no reason to be scared. Why are you scared? Tell me.”

“I feel so dirty and I know Momma will hate me and I feel so disgusted with my body and my species and I feel...” Claudio's voice died into a hiss when the uncanny atmosphere began to engulf him like a tower's shadow. “Help me...”

Archie kissed him, and finally, his hand slithered down to Claudio's dick, ignoring his plea for help. “Oh, I could feel you twitch in my arms... You want this so much, don't you, sweetheart? You're shaking so badly...  Aww... The openings of your wings are becoming so warm...” —he kissed him again— “Oh, good hybrid...”

*****

The scent of cardboard surrounded Claudio as he was curled up in the corner of the storage room, as he sobbed, out of breath. “Stop looking at me... You're scaring me...”

Cambria glared at him, over him, her eyes sharp as knives with glistening blades.

“Momma, I'm sorry.”

Blood dripped from her chin, pattered onto the floor, and she kept her unchanging glare.

“I'll kill myself.”

Nothing.

“Momma?”

Claudio stood up, and his hand tingled when he impaled her with it, the contact making him feel dizzy with confusion. He withdrew it, and backed away from her. “You can't be mad at me.”

I can, she replied, but her mouth did not move.

Claudio frowned as his hands balls into fists. “I had no choice! I know I didn't handle it well! I... I...”

Idiot.

“I can't live anymore, Momma! And you don't even care! You just stare at me,” Claudio cried, then again, he was lost in those empty eyes of vacuum, lost in the memories of him and her. “I really miss you.”

Cambria blinked.

“I'm growing up, Momma,” Claudio told her, a tear running down his cheek steadily. “I don't know how to feel.”

She had no reaction.

“I don't know anything,” the dragonfly croaked, and wiped away his tears. “But I know I'm ready to join you in the afterlife.”

Kill yourself.

“You're not even trying to help!” Claudio screamed in a rage that was caused by the voice, his own voice cracking. “I remember I used to sit on your lap and you would sing to me and now— Now you're— Please, hold me! I want to be in your arms again!”

He fell into her arms, into the mirage of his mother which he believed was real, and collided into the wall instead. When he looked back, she was gone. Gone like nothing ever happened between them. Claudio pulled his knees to his chin, and on his side, he cried, choking back his volume, despite how badly he wished to scream.

Outside of the storage room, Cassiopeia was leaning against the door of it, her ear squished against the paint. She could hear him crying, could hear his pain and distress, his misery. Should she go and help him? She knocked on the door.

Claudio silenced himself, set a barrier between himself and humiliation. He only hoped it was not Felicity. 

“It's Cassiopeia,” Cassiopeia assured him like she could read his mind like a book, her hand turning the doorknob but not pushing. Seconds passed and she could not hear his crying. And in the absence of an answer, she finally allowed herself in, her eyes heartbroken when she saw him lying on the floor, broken in pieces.

“Claud? Are you okay?” she called out softly.

Claudio curled up tighter and covered his face with a sniffle.

Cassiopeia cautiously sauntered to him and stood over him just like Cambria did, observed him. She had heard him yelling at someone, but was he also hurt physically? Who was it he was shouting at? His chest rise and fell unevenly and he sniffed repeatedly; he was drinking his tears. She wanted him to know it was okay to cry around her, but how could she tell him that?

She knelt and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

There was a slow shake of Claudio's head.

“You can tell me what's wrong. I won't judge. It's okay to tell me,” Cassiopeia assured him as sweetly as a cherry.

“You won't judge?” Claudio whimpered, his voice thin, tight as a rope that was on the brink of snapping.

“I promise. If I do, you may punch me,” Cassiopeia said.

So Claudio told her, “Archie was touching me and my body liked it and now Momma is disappointed in me.”

The moth descended to her knees, nodding through all of his words. “Why is she disappointed?”

“Because I'm not her little boy anymore. I'm growing up,” Claudio answered, blinking away tears. “I don't want to grow up.”

“Why not?” Cassiopeia slid her hand into his and caressed his slim fingers. 

“I... Because... Scared,” Claudio coughed out, a blush bleeding through his cheeks.

“Why are you scared of growing up? I-If the questions are too much, let me know,” Cassiopeia stammered, then awkwardly fluffed back her hair, strawberry blonde.

“I don't like the changes... um... Down there,” Claudio mumbled uncomfortably.

“I remember feeling like that. This isn't really talked about to boys, but when I got my first period, I was scared. I thought I had a disease and that was why I was bleeding. But it wasn't. My aunt told me it was part of growing up and it was so I could get pregnant. Then I wasn't scared, and when my friend got hers, she knew beforehand why she was bleeding so she wasn't scared. When my other friend got it and didn't know why, we told her because she was afraid of making her parents nervous for her. Then, she told her parents and they made her a cake!” Cassiopeia laughed, and Claudio slightly giggled along, but he was not smiling. It hurt her to see his lack of facial emotion, but she did not let it get to her. “Why are you scared of what's changing?”

Claudio shrugged.

“Come on, I told you about a period. You can tell me!”

Claudio gave in. “I don't like how my dick doubles in size when I feel aroused.”

Cassiopeia gasped. “Girls think that's hot!”

“But it makes me feel like I have a parasite. And when Archie touched me, I felt so delighted inside, and I didn't know why, because he's a man, and I wanted a girl to do it. Then... Then I... My body felt amazing for a second and I came... But the look of it scared me,” Claudio replied doubtfully, then continued after a second of remembrance. “Why did I like it? I was crying the entire time. Although I started to smile at my climax.”

“Your body liked it, not you. It's like when people get raped. Their rapist claims they liked it because they were moaning, but they did not,” Cassiopeia acknowledged as she played with Claudio's curls. “I believe he raped you if you were crying.”

“I think he loves me,” Claudio hissed with a shudder.

“Why?”

“He was kissing my neck and calling me 'sweetheart' in every sentence. And cooing like I was a kitten or something cute. He was so gentle with me...” Claudio said, then rolled over onto his back. He stared at the ceiling until Cassiopeia climbed on top of him and straddled him. He was not left with a reply.

Cassiopeia was kissing his neck. “Does this replace his kisses?”

Claudio's body was stirring. “Yes.”

“Good,” Cassiopeia replied, then sat up on him, straddled his hips, and as she did, she rubbed her crotch against Claudio's, could feel him getting hard. He had a troubled look in his eyes, though, the same troubled look he has always had. But it was unbearable to her, and she pulled her hair to one side of her head and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I don't know,” Claudio answered mindlessly, his thumb brushing her thigh.

“You can tell me what's wrong, Claudio.”

Claudio knew that it was serious if his name was said. “You're sitting on me and its making me feel aroused but distraught.”

Cassiopeia climbed off of him and cuddled his side, concerned of the unique word. “Distraught, hmm? Is this better?”

Claudio turned over to face her. The floor was not very comfortable, but as long as he was in her arms, he felt calm. “Yes.”

Cassiopeia kissed him on the lips, and to her surprise, he held it, grabbed her cheek and held the kiss. And he was holding her waist, so she held his, and he pulled away, out of breath.

“Please, touch me. Anywhere. I miss the way it feels when my back is touched," Claudio demanded her gently, his eyes heavy with need.

Cassiopeia started to move her palm in circles through his back, scratched him lightly with her long nails, and listened to him breathe in pleasure. “It's okay to sleep. You look so tired. I'll keep rubbing your back until you fall asleep. I love you.”

“Thank, you. I love you, too,” Claudio whispered as he moved himself closer to her, so close that the air between them was warm in his nose. The lights were still gleaming above, and though they typically kept him awake, he was close to sleep, buried in Cassiopeia's gravestone arms. He felt so serene now. Loved.

“Did you eat dinner?” Cassiopeia finally asked him.

“I tried but they were all staring at me and I felt nervous so I ran here,” the dragonfly responded, his voice dry, tired.

“At least you tried,” Cassiopeia whispered, her voice ethereal, like a lullaby that would sing him to sleep...

That sang him into a disaster.

Notes:

the first dialogue is from the willing well I

Chapter 10: Chapter 9: Kitty

“Give her back!"

Claudio awoke in a split second's time, his mind hazy; he was dazed from slumber. It was still dark and he could only feel. What could he feel? He moved his fingers. Cassiopeia's soft waist. The hard floor. He could understand that he was still resting on the floor of the storage room. Then who was it that shouted, awakened him? Surely, he must have been in a nightmare.

“Now!”

Claudio blocked his ears. He should have taken his medications when he had the chance. . .

Cassiopeia twitched in her sleep, and instantly, he held her closer, left himself vulnerable to the volume of the voices. But when he looked at her face, he saw her glacier blue eyes, wide open, staring at the doorway. When Claudio looked, too, he was not hallucinating.

Cassiopeia's boyfriend was looming over them, his arms crossed.

“Cepheus— I—” Cassiopeia stammered fearfully, her voice filled with a tired but fearful rasp. She scooted away from Claudio like he was some sort of demon.

Cepheus slammed the door against the wall, casted a muted moonlight into the room, and its sound rung like thunder. “I'm done with this pretending thing.”

Claudio's eyes were fixated on the moth, who began to stand up. He planted himself on his shins, sidesaddle. Watching.

“Stop pretending to love him just to be nice. There's a billion other crazy people in the world, Cass! He's not special! He can take a rejection!” Cepheus shouted. “I can't believe you still love him after what he did to you! He just wants to breed you, and I bet!”

“I don't,” Claudio chimed in, standing up dauntingly. “I want her heart, you don't! You're the one who got her pregnant at fucking sixteen!”

“She's not pregnant! She lied to you because she doesn't want to breed you!” Cepheus retorted with a finger aimed at him like a gun, like Micah's gun as it pointed its barrel at Momma. “You're fucking disgusting! Why would she want to breed with someone who needs fucking help with washing his hands?”

How did he even remember that?

The right words were sitting in the pit of his mind and Claudio didn't know which ones to vomit. “She loves me, at least!”

“She's pretending!” Cepheus corrected him, and his pointed finger stabbed Claudio in the chest, and he staggered back.

“No, she pretends to love you! She told me!” Claudio snapped, his fingers tight in a ball, in a fist, ready to fire. 

“Cass, so who do you love? Don't pretend now! Who!” Cepheus demanded of his girlfriend.

Cassiopeia flinched, then faltered, “Y-you.”

Her fear choked out the truth, and Claudio's heart was ripped into shreds. What did all of those cherished kisses matter after all? Why did she torture his lips with a secret hatred?  His stomach turned in grief, his eyes watered, and his fingers loosened. The motivation to fight was gone, so was the motivation to steal her back. He knew it. She could not be trusted with all of those lies.

Cassiopeia sighed, but she did not even look back at him as her boyfriend dragged her out of the room. Was it because she did not love him, or because she did not want to see him cry? Claudio knew he could not look at Chester one last time when he was arrested, for his brother's eyes were so touched, but also anguished and a little confused.

He remembered Chester... Chester... Chester. . . The only one that loved him.

Because Momma and Cassiopeia did not.

*****

His collar was jerked by a leash and he almost choked.

“You've been acting out so much today. What's up?” Felicity asked. Her mood was slightly darkened each time she had to stop Claudio from hurting himself or other hybrids.

“I miss my brother,” the dragonfly grumbled. He watched Cassiopeia eat and giggle with her boyfriend across the cafeteria, so carefree, not having to stress about him anymore, and his stomach twisted in jealousy.

Felicity nodded. “Chester? Me too. Even though he had an attitude. Do you want to call him? After you eat, of course. We still have his owner's number.”

Claudio swallowed through his tight throat as Cassiopeia spoonfed her boyfriend playfully. “I'm not hungry.”

“You rarely ever eat, Claud—”

“I'm not hungry!” His voice was thin, and it was obvious he was on the verge of sobbing.

Felicity placed a hand on his back and rubbed it soothingly. “Quiet down, please,” she said, and he pushed his plate aside and pressed his head into his arms on the table. The nurse steadied it and took the fork. “It's okay. Just cry. But don't scream.”

So the dragonfly sobbed as quietly as he could. Felicity stole a few bites of his breakfast, leaving him with less food to eat when he would finally regain appetite. His back was rubbed in circles, and her hand pushed against his wings a few times, but it still pleased him, and he adored it. A part of him wanted to be closer to her, so close that they could feel their hips against each others'. Well, Cassiopeia was gone, so what would it matter?

Felicity tapped his shoulder eventually. “Hey.”

Claudio turned his head, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

The nurse kept her hand on his shoulder. “I'm going to get you some water. You haven't been drinking a lot and I don't want you to be dehydrated, especially with all the crying you've been doing.”

Claudio nodded and rocked his head back into his arms. Why did she care so much?

Felicity's answer made her sound telekinetic. “You know, you're a very strong young man.”

“Strong?” echoed Claudio.

“Mhm,” Felicity said as she stood up and began to walk off.

Claudio watched her as he sat with his thoughts. But he was far from strong. If he was strong, he could fight off Archie. He could have fought Cepheus the night before, and his fists would have not died. If he was strong, he would be so powerful, and many would be submissive to him, fear him even. He would not be walked on.

When Felicity returned with a glass of water, he asked his question. “Why did you say I'm strong?”

“Because this is a hard place to be in, and you know that, but you're making the most of it. You haven't been here for two weeks and already found love and a friend. I could never! No one could ever besides you. And you do this all off of your medications,” Felicity explained.

“Cassio broke up with me,” Claudio whispered. “She was pretending because she felt bad.”

Felicity nodded, understanding. “Oh. At least you made an effort to have a relationship.”

“Nobody in their right mind would love a psychopath. I give up,” Claudio brooded. He considered walking away and escaping the conversation, but stayed hopelessly in place.

Felicity's voice hushed. “Girls can be judgemental. If she only cares about looks and wealth, then don't try with her. Her boyfriend's owner was filthy rich and donated thousands to her owner, and when they died in a plane accident flying to L.A, guess who all the money went to. Them,” she advised, battling the urge to look at Cassiopeia and Cepheus. “Cassiopeia doesn't even care much about her friends, just—” She rubbed her thumb over two fingers, symbolized money.

“I wish I was normal,” Claudio breathed in wistfulness. 

“I've told you, we're trying to get meds for you. We have over a hundred hybrids to take care of, six beds in the nurse's office, one padded cell which is already occupied, and two bathrooms with no stalls. Right now we're mostly trying to build up the place. In my free time I've called a laboratory and they refused to give you meds because you're an Aggressive,” Felicity said. Claudio looked ashamed so she pushed the glass of water to him. “I'm sorry. Drink some water, please.”

Claudio only took one small sip, then rested his head on the table.

“Are you okay? Do you just miss Chester?” Felicity asked, noticing his exhausted eyes. 

“It's just a lot,” Claudio replied, his voice dry. “Everything.” 

Felicity sighed and started to think deeply. “How about we call Chester? Right now. That'll cheer you up a bit, I hope enough for you to eat,” she suggested, and cuffed his wrist with her gentle palm, drew him a picture. “You're thinner than you were when you got here.”

Good, Claudio thought, proud of his silent achievement.

Micah watched impolitely as Claudio climbed weakly down the steps for breakfasts. His expression told him that his body was aching, and Micah loved that. He deserved it.

“Come here, chéri,” Micah greeted him with a sadistic smile, gesturing him with his hands, pulling him with the strings wrapped around his fingers, the strings attached to Claudio's marionette soul.

Claudio walked over to him grudgingly, disgusted at his fake kindness. When he stood in front of him, he trembled, like Micah's fingers shook, and held on to the table for support.

“I can't believe you're growing up and still alive,” Micah laughed heartlessly. He grabbed the hem of his shirt, pushed it up, and slapped his stomach. “Look at this. I found this out last night while fucking him.” The entire table stared attentively. “He's fucking fat.”

“If he was a human, that would go unnoticed, but for a dragonfly, he needs to lose weight," Mr. Levesque chuckled. 

“Exactly,” Micah agreed, and slapped Claudio in the face, freeing a whimper from his lips. “Shut up. It didn't hurt. Did you notice how your sister didn't make you breakfast? You're not eating for two days every week.”

Claudio was beyond horrified. What did he do to deserve this torture? Live?

Felicty punched the table and startled him. “Are you even listening?” she snapped.

“I was thinking,” Claudio said, close to tears.

“I asked if you were feeling ill,” Felicity repeated herself impatiently.

“I'm just tired,” Claudio answered, and sniffled.

“Well, let's go to the office and call Chester. But you're coming back here after,” Felicity decided. 

Claudio groaned, the low growl like a leopard's. He would talk with Chester for hours, then, until he vomited of hunger, collapsed, starving. He felt it before. As he watched the digits on the scale fall, from one hundred and twenties to tens, watched his ribs peek from his skin when he sucked in, back when he was at home.

At least he was still a little skinny, though bulkier than Chester. Not fat. But he never seemed to eat anymore. His belt had to stretch further to hold up his pants, because he was shrinking. He was more tired than usual. Was his path to starvation ending out successful? Would it murder him?

As he followed Felicity, he realized how shaky he was, how weak. Realized why Felicity always thought he was not feeling well. He was not, though, but sickness felt inevitable after how many fevers and sores he endured at home.

The hallway's emptiness was parallel to a bedroom silence as it stretched. Harmless. No hybrids rested inside in their rooms, for they were all eating lunch, so Claudio was free from laughter towards him or private threats. But the main office arrived, and peace was coughed out from inside of him, left him feeling uneasy.

“He wants to speak with Chester,” Felicity told the staff at the front desk.

Sharon pulled out a folder casually. “We have his owner's phone number only. But we can reach him from there.”

“Great,” Felicity replied successfully, and turned to Claudio patiently. Her voice was drained into a whisper. “Sit down on that couch behind you while you wait.”

So Claudio fell back, and the efforts of standing despite having a frail body deserted him when he was greeted with the soft couch cushions. He watched Sharon finger through the papers in the folder like she was a television show, hoping she would find the number she needed. He needed.

“Mike Shinoda,” Sharon said in triumph. She set the sheet of paper on the desk and began to click the buttons of the phone, synonymous to the numbers on the paper. Soon, there was an anticipating silence, a ring strained through the space, and then satisfaction when Mike spoke through the other end. Sharon handed the phone over to Claudio.

Claudio leaned closer to the desk so the cord would reach him. “Hello? May I speak to Chester?”

“Of course,” Mike said, and then silence took over, until a rustle.

Chester's charismatic voice was heard, gentle. “Hey, how are you?” 

Claudio's lips parted, but he did not know how to respond. “Er— I guess, not very good.”

Chester was horrified by the tiredness in his words, the slight blur that plagued his speech, blended his words together, that did not exist when he was with him. “You don't sound good. How have you been treated?”

“The nurse is nice but everybody else hates me,” Claudio responded, exaggerating a little. Travis liked him, but they never hung out often. And Zander and Archie did, but in a weird way.

“Felicity? Damn, I was a dick with her. What have you been up to lately?" Chester asked.

“I had my first orgasm,” Claudio bragged.

Chester laughed, laughed, laughed, a charming sound. “Woah! I'm your brother! Nice work, I guess?” He laughed more.

Claudio blushed in embarrassment. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize how personal.”

“Well, I hope you enjoyed it.”

“I want more,” Claudio shared, and swore his face morphed into the color of blood. “Sorry— I should hang up...”

Chester stopped him. “No, no. It's okay.” He was used to Claudio's peculiar habits, and this was one of them, saying or asking inappropriate statements or questions. Chester staggered back into the venue where Mike's band had played, when Claudio had asked him what an orgasm felt like, and Chester said it felt good, though uncomfortable. But he understood. Claudio had never known how to talk to anybody.

“I never know what to say,” Claudio said sadly, like he could mimic Chester's thoughts, antennae drooped. “Ya encontré el amor pero ella jugaba con mi corazón.”

“You can speak to me in English. I'm not judging,” Chester told him. “What did you say?”

Claudio sighed. “I don't want to say.”

Chester could read his embarrassment, could understand why he was being so cautious. “Claud, I won't judge no matter what. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Claudio purred. It was all he wanted to hear. “I want you here with me.”

“I'll visit someday,” Chester promised. “Tell me what you want to tell me. I don't care what it is. Something horny or whatever. I want to help.”

Claudio swallowed dryly, worrying. “My season started and you didn't want it to and I'm really sorry for disobeying you.”

Chester smiled. “Don't apologize! It was your choice to fall in love—”

“No, I should have listened. I have to say sorry. She broke up with me in days!” Claudio raged, his throat closing as he recalled his argument with Cepheus, and Cassiopeia's sudden departure. “You were right.”

“Calm down," Chester hushed. “There is always gonna be some problem in relationships.”

“You and Mike are perfect! Is it because he's a man? I remember him; he was really sweet! And he's a human! Girls are so judgemental! They're so picky abou—”

Felicity grabbed his shoulder with a bitter tongue. “Quiet. You're shouting.” (Although, she must have been offended about the comment regarding girls.)

Claudio silenced himself. “Sorry, ma'am,” then he started to speak clearly again, “I just want advice.”

Love advice. Something Chester had done before when his brother was taken from Micah's house to Mike's with him. “Hm,” he hummed, in thought. In memories. Memories of he and Mike when they first started dating. The pool party. “Well, don't get too obsessed. You aren't having sex the second day. You need to make sure she loves you, and doesn't just want a baby. That goes with you, too.”

“I'm infertile,” Claudio reminded him. “I just want to be warm inside somebody's arms, and kissed for minutes. I don't care about sex.”

Felicity scoffed. What a lie that was.

Chester's eyes narrowed at the paradox. “So you want more orgasms, but don't care about sex?”

“I never fucked anybody yet. But Archie fucked me. I didn't like it, but he made feel good.”

“That was your first orgasm?” Chester asked.

“No. I touched myself before.”

“Do you like Archie?” 

Claudio was brutally honest. “No. He puts me on bottom and I like being dominant. And he calls me his sweetheart and coos at me like you would a puppy and praises me and my body. I don't love him like he loves me.”

“Oh. I used to beg Archie for sex. I came on him once,” Chester giggled mischievously. “And you know how I almost died? He carried me and took me to the hospital!”

“Yeah, because you're gay,” Claudio snickered with a smile. A smile. When did he feel content last? “I almost died here, too. And I have thirty-eight years—”

“Thirty-eight fucking years! Fuck, Claudio! Sorry, how did you almost die?”

“You're on speaker,” Claudio warned lowly, afraid that Chester would free the secret from its cage. “Micah made the nurse give me too many pills and she believed him. Then I collapsed the next morning.”

“Oh, yeah, those pills. I hope you're feeling better. You sound exhausted,” Chester wished. Mike sat down beside him on the couch and listened attentively, and the dragonfly moved closer to him, so that their bodies collided. The shift could be heard through the phone.

“I am doing better. But I won't survive here. I'll die here,” Claudio admitted. 

“May I ask why you needed those pills?” Chester asked with a suspicious yet troublesome smirk.

Claudio breathed. He gave no answer. “You'll hate me.”

“Yeah, right,” Chester grumbled, in doubt.

“You will.”

“Just tell. What did I say earlier?”

“I tried to fuck a girl and... She... No, I'm sorry,” Claudio stammered.

Chester was curious. “What happened? Tell me.”

“I raped her,” Claudio hissed eerily, and there was silence on the other end. He stood up from the couch and—

“Claud, I want—”

Click. The phone was put to bed.

Felicity stared at Claudio in disbelief. “You were complaining all day that you missed him and you just cut him off like that?”

The dragonfly exhaled shakily and clawed the desk like he was about to faint.

“You don't get many chances,” Felicity told him threateningly. When Claudio started to turn to the door, she pulled him by his collar, nearly strangled him like how she did earlier.

Then the phone let out its inviting chatter.

“He hates me now!” Claudio yelped, and dropped himself on the couch to catch his breath, curled up. Panicked.

Felicity picked up the phone. “Hello? Chester? Yeah, it's Felicity. . . So both he and the girl were clothed and he didn't cum. . . I'd given him a hormone injection which made him aroused easier. . . Yeah. . . I know, he makes it sound worse than it was. . . She ended up forgiving—”

“No! No! She doesn't! She was pretending to! She was pretending everything! She said it herself! I hear what she says with her boyfriend, and he knew she was affected! She lied to—” Claudio's mouth was cupped by Sharon, who he did not even see was coming.

“Do you stop yelling?” she interrogated.

Claudio bit her, and was slapped. But it did not hurt compared to when Micah did it. “I'm a monster.”

Felicity sat down beside him and held his hand. “Maybe she doesn't forgive him. . . I don't know, its a whole bunch of drama. . . Do you want to talk to him?” She handed the phone to Claudio. “He said yes.”

“I don't want to,” Claudio whimpered, staring at his filthy body. Why did it have to commit filthy things?

“At least tell him you love him and goodbye,” Felicity pressed.

Claudio took the phone. “Sorry, Angel.”

Chester cherished the nickname, which was given to him after Claudio had found out that when they are close to each other, his psychotic symptoms were reduced. It only happened with Chester. Would it happen with Micah, since he was a dragonfly, too?

His brother replied, “At least you're honest.”

Claudio thought he sounded slightly sour. “Okay, well, I love you. Bye. I miss you.”

“Bye, Claud,” Chester farewelled. Then pushed a button to hang up.

Felicity took the phone from Claudio, and noticed tears in his eyes, standing on the edge, ready to fall. “You okay?”

Kill yourself.

You're an idiot.

There's not point in living. He hates you. Everybody hates you. 

You deserve to die.

Your life sucks. Kill yourself.

“Yeah,” Claudio lied. He watched himself tremble. “I want to go to bed.”

“No, you're finishing breakfast,” Felicity decided for him.

“I want to go to sleep! Please! I'm not hungry!” Claudio cried, and Sharon held a finger to her mouth, signaling quietness. “Why do I have to be quiet?”

“Because your shouting can be a distraction to workers and some hybrids who can't take it. You're being a real brat, you know,” Felicity said.

“Shut up! Get away from me! Leave me alone!” Claudio wiped away tears. 

A creak could be heard and two gentlemen came out from the main office with concerned looks. Archie and Zander. Zander sat down on the sofa and Archie stood behind Sharon.

Claudio's words were swallowed and he choked on them, squeezing out breathless whines. Felicity rubbed his back like she did earlier and whispered at him to take deep breaths.

Zander was being as nosy as always. “What happened?”

“Nothing big. He's okay. Just overwhelmed, I guess,” Felicity replied sweetly, then moved Claudio's hair from his face like a mother would. “Is the amount of people in this room bothering you?”

Claudio nodded.

Felicity looked around. “Well, I'll go take care of other patients. Archie can stop being nosy and go look at who's next on his schedule. Sharon will sit down and do her work, and Zander will comfort you. But you're eating after.”

Claudio sighed. Why did he have to be with this weirdo? He leaned against the armrest and breathed evenly, or at least tried to.

Zander crossed his legs like a girl. “I like your hair today.”

Claudio said nothing. Did nothing. Stared at nothing.

“Mine is a brown mess that needs to be brushed.”

Nothing.

“Are you okay?”

Nothing.

“Wanna hang out later?”

Nothing.

“Why are you not talking?”

Claudio snapped, “Because you're weird.”

Zander's expression quickly transformed into sadness. “Oh. I actually wanted to be mates with you.”

Eww!!! Claudio thought, and if he had expressed it aloud, Zander would probably be sobbing his eyes out. He imagined Zander below him—because the kitty was so girly that he had to be submitted—moaning so loudly that it somehow overrode Claudio's voices, his disgusting, shaved legs spread like a gymnast's. The dragonfly nearly gagged. How did Chester like this lifestyle? Claudio could not handle the thought of a dick being inside of him after Micah had raped him.

“So, umm...” Zander hesitated, “I'm assuming you're single?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Claudio grumbled. 

“So do you wanna be my mate?” Zander licked his lips seductively and ran a hand through his hair when Claudio was starting to make eye contact with him. He uncrossed his legs

Claudio did not mean to look in a homosexual way, but he caught a glimpse of Zander's dick. It was so hard. Hard as a rock. Like so hard that it looked like it was going to penetrate his magenta panties. And so hard that it could be seen through his panties if you looked at the right angle.

“Are you trying to hide it?” Claudio asked, his voice monotone, finally meeting Zander's eyes because it was the only place he could look towards him without seeing his dick.

“Hide what?” Zander asked dumbly.

“Bitch, I'm not dumb,” Claudio cursed and stood up. He walked through the door savagely, not bothering to glance back at the pussy and his hard dick.

“I asked if you want to be my mate!” Zander called out, and began to chase after him, and when his first foot pounded on the floor, his dick popped out of his panties.

Claudio halted and shot at him a disturbed countenance. “Would you put on some pants? Perhaps to hide the..?”

“No. This dick is for you,” Zander teased him, holding him by his shoulders, sensing his shape stiffen.

“So let me chop it off,” Claudio snorted jokingly with a smirk.

Zander suddenly threw himself forward, right into Claudio's face, pushed through the bitter air between them, and he engulfed the dragonfly's lips in his, could feel the two lip rings stab the skin below his bottom lip. But he thought it was sexy, and he wanted to know how it felt on his dick, and finally, he let his panties fall, and rammed his erection into Claudio's crotch, and moaned in response.

Then Claudio screamed brutally as he ripped his lips away and battled to break free from the grasp that felt like a chokehold. “I don't even like you! Okay? You're a freak! So let go or I'll make you!”

“Sorry. I forgot schizophrenics were aggressive,” Zander said apologetically.

Claudio punched him in the face, rocketing him to the floor. “You're so bold! Especially to assume me because of stereotypes! And to think I love you!” he shrieked, then kicked him right in the balls with his heavy, platform boots. The kitten's legs bent and he grabbed his genitals in gruesome pain, grimacing.

Claudio fell to his knees and crawled onto Zander menacingly. “How do I make you feel? Above you like this?”

“Scared but aroused...” Zander wheezed, a hand climbing to Claudio's chest.

Claudio bit down on his neck, perforating his skin, as he shoved two fingers down Zander's throat to kill the sound of his scream. The metallic taste of blood pooled in his mouth, and he chewed, until a chunk of flesh was torn, and the kitten was squirming and kicking and squeezing his eyes shut. Then he swallowed everything.

He knew. He knew he was going to be punished badly for this. Chained by the neck or whipped several times for this. But he did not care. He was down for anything if it shortened his life. How was he not dead yet? How was he so strong? How strong was he really, if he was able to rip a piece of meat from this kitty's throat?

Well, he was supposed to eat breakfast after all, right?

Chapter 11: Chapter 10: Dirty

Notes:

I changed my writing program because of wifi reasons, so if you see this (*) lmk...

Blood dripped angrily from his nose, it pattered and put a puddle onto his pants, and he stared above at the girl, his eyes empty, his face blank. His body stung from Nicole's whip, some parts even gushed out blood. It felt like death. Felt like bliss.

“What were you thinking?”

He blinked. Once. Twice. His sleepy eyes continued to flutter, which the light burned. Then his mouth opened, and blood seeped into his mouth, but he closed it, tasting the color he hated most, remembering his breakfast. He was bereft of a lie.

“I need an answer.”

The night had him in its arms. His body was fragile with exhaustion, and he could not focus. But he still replied anyhow, somehow. “I was...”

The nurse cocked her head, and her too long, straight hair fell to one side. She waited patiently.

He swallowed his own blood and coughed. “Annoyed.”

The black-haired nurse slapped him and blood was thrown across the floor. “You are so stupid.”

“I hear it every hour.”

She was about to kill him. “This cannibalistic behavior will never be tolerated. Never ever do it again. Hear me?”

Claudio nodded soulessly, swallowed more blood, and felt himself grow nauseous with the foul amount sinking into his organs. 

“I want you go apologize to Zander. Yes, wake him up and say you're sorry. And kiss his wound,” the nurse commanded of him, aiming her finger to the door, her eyes widened from an angry disappointment, looking as if they were going to explode. 

“Okay,” Claudio agreed, like he did not mind, though inwardly, he wanted to shrivel up in a fire and die like his father wanted. It was the only way to save his life, for whoever he was living for, since his brain would not allow him to slaughter himself, instead it locked him inside a dungeon, and held the key out of reach.

“So then go,” the nurse snapped, and pointed her finger again in the same motion as before.

Claudio planted himself on his feet, with blood still trickling down his nose, to his two lips, down his chin, and hopping to the floor. He gaped at the somber drops of his ruby filling.

“Clean up your disgusting nosebleed.”

All Claudio did was swipe his arm across his nose, leaving a crimson smear that would sooner stain his skin. He heard the nurse groan in disgust.

When he was out of the nurse's office, he was tempted to run and hide to escape the situation, but he knew he could not, because he was breaking too many rules already. Zander's room was only down this hall, but which room? He read the plaques on the wall which stated the room number. #1. #10. #11. #20.  Blood dripped from his face. #2. #9. #12. #19. Blood.

“You're right, why did I even pretend?” 

Claudio tilted his eyes up and found Cassiopeia and her boyfriend, Cepheus. They were chatting about him.

“Ew,” gagged the moth.

“You have something on your face!” Cepheus laughed rudely.

Claudio just stared at them. He did not react at all. His eyes were fixed on them until another word.

“Ceph, I'm starting to get scared,” Cassiopeia whined, and stumbled to her boyfriend's safe shoulder. 

“What is wrong with that freak?” Cepheus chuckled, pointing to his scarlet chin. His expression then was shaped into concern for himself, like he was going to be killed.

Claudio dipped his head, and blood rolled from his nose to the ground. 

“We'll turn around before anything happens,” Cepheus concluded, and cupped Cassiopeia's shoulder protectively.

Pitter. Patter. Blood leaving marks on the floor. He felt a surge, a surge of shame, of hatred, of hopelessness, all towards himself, in his blood, the blood spilling out of him. He felt the familiar pinch his heart was given when Cassiopeia betrayed him, ripped his pumping heart in half.

The whips lashing against his body. The shouts of the manger above his quivering frame. The cold floor of the storage room. The whines that began from Cassiopeia's heart and out of her lips. The hatred towards him. Their hatred towards him. His crime.

And before he even knew it he was sauntering to the front doors. Through the window, he could see the nature, the blue sky, the fresh grass, the soft clouds, and the freedom, most importantly. The windows were built in the tops center of each door. And somehow he was taken back in time, into a memory, where the door was wooden, the glass was decorated, and through the window, he could see his mother, bleeding, withering, dead. Neglecting him.

He found himself reaching out to the window like his mother was tangible, and like he was there, nine years ago.

“Did you already do it?”

Claudio looked back at the nurse and was thrust forward in time. “No.”

“Well, then, get to it. Nicole will fire me if you don't.”

His eyes rotated to the window. 

“Get to it!”

He flinched and stepped back, beginning to amble down the hall. A black figure at the end watched him, and the longer he stared at it, the spookier it appeared. The more uneasy he felt. 

Where was Zander's room?

“We'll just skip that hall. It'll be a better walk that way,” Cepheus said.

“Go find his room.”

The figure watched him.

Kill yourself.

Claudio's eyes frantically shifted to each room. Where was Zander's room?

He looked up. The figure moved closer.

“Quit meandering and go find Zander.”

The noises, the threats, the commands, the figure, the hate, the distractions. His emotions. His decisions. It all made his heart pump faster, made him panic. And to defend himself, he screamed and crumbled to the floor.

His hands slipped under the bandages on his wrists and he tore them ferociously. Dried blood stuck to the bandages and the pain was sensible. But it pleased him. He hooked his fingers and ripped the scabs from his wrists, and watched the blood spill like it was the most interesting thing he had even seen. 

“Stop!” the nurse charged towards him. 

Claudio choked on his blood, gagging, coughing up drops of his red fluid. He pointed his head upwards, and let his sickened eyes mope around the hall. Micah was standing at the end of the hall with a smile; he must have wanted to check out the scream. The nurse was kneeling down beside him. Shadows were scattered everywhere.

The unfamiliar nurse grabbed his wrists, and he began to cough again. “What are you hearing right now?”

Claudio could not answer; his coughs conquered his voice.

“I already know you're going to throw up. On your knees. I'll clean it,” the nurse sighed, releasing him, and instead, helping him to flip over.

 He shifted himself to sit on his knees, still choking on his blood, unable to breathe. The nurse moved his hair from his face, and after a few painful gags, he vomited onto the cement floor.

“Why is this my job...” the nurse moaned, in disgust at the putrid miasma and the repulsive sight of the vomit. “Hold on, I'll get something to clean.”

“I'm sorry,” Claudio rasped, his voice coated in blood. He coughed again. But the nurse was already away so she did not hear his apology.

Chanel peeked out of the doorway of the main office. “You okay?”

He hated the attention, but Claudio nodded, lying. He was never going to be okay. His body ached greatly. When would he finally pass away?

*****

The water was like warm rain against his skin. Suds of the scented soap scurried down into the drain, cleansing him. Dirt and old blood rushed down his body, mixed into the bubbly pile beneath his feet.

He turned a knob beside him in dissatisfaction, and in a few seconds, the water was changed, and it was scalding. It felt like death. Felt like bliss.

Felicity noticed the steam that soon started to dampen her crossword puzzles, and she was suddenly alert. “Have you finished cleaning yourself, Claudio?”

“I don't know,” the dragonfly replied dryly.

“Well,” Felicity said and rested her puzzles on the counter where the sink was built. She walked over until she was at the shower's edge. “I'm here to help, you know.”

“I don't need help,” Claudio mumbled, afraid that she would peek at his hideous body.

But Felicity saw through the disguise. “You do. If you're scared of me being such a pervert, then I'll bring Archie here. I'm not trying to be weird. I want to help.”

“Archie will try to be a pervert,” Claudio hissed.

“I know him. He won't. Just because he's our sex worker, doesn't mean he's a pervert. That personality stays in his office. He's very caring,” Felicity assured him, stuck her arm in the shower, and twisted the knob until the water was cooler. “And don't make the water so hot. You'll dry your skin.”

A rush of fear soared through Claudio's blood when her arm was visible. “Just get Archie,” he sighed.

“Okay,” Felicity agreed, and pulled a walkie talkie from the waistband of her skirt. She clicked a button and held the microphone to her mouth. “Archie, come to the men's restroom. I have a hybrid in need of help.”

Seconds later there was a fuzzy response. “I will be there shortly, Felicity.”

Felicity marched to the other side of the room to get her things. “Great! I can help other patients and you will feel comfortable.”

Claudio reached for the knob, but Felicity's voice startled him.

“I'll stay here until he gets here, because you can't be left alone.”

“Why not?” Claudio interrogated.

“Because you could potentially harm yourself or worse.”

Claudio let the water run down his body for a minute or two, lingering in the silence between he and Felicity. He wished she would leave so he could fulfill the desire to smash his head on the wall. Burn himself with hot water. Die blissfully.

A door was opened and Archie's voice was heard. “Who is it?”

“It's Claudio,” Felicity replied, then padded over to him.

Archie's voice was lowered. “Is he chained?”

“No. He's not aggressive right now. But he might only be a danger to himself,” Felicity said, her voice matching the quietness of his.

“Okay. Is he in the shower?”

“Yes. It seems he has lost the motivation to take care of himself.”

Archie started to walk over to the shower. “I'll help him.” He threw off his shirt and took off his pants when the nurse walked out the door, leaving himself in his boxers. 

Claudio pumped soap onto his washcloth for the fifth time, unsure of where to go next. Bubbles were still sliding down his body.

Archie stepped in with him, and met his fearful eyes. “Do you want help?”

“No,” Claudio replied grumpily.

“I think you need it,” Archie concluded, and took the cloth from him, acknowledging the sporadically arranged suds on his skin.

Claudio was helpless as Archie rubbed his skin with the washcloth, lathered his skin with bubbles the right way, held his arm to stabilize him. A part of him was grateful, for he could not have done this himself. He finally felt clean.

“Can you hold out your arms? I'll be really gentle. I know it hurts,” Archie asked as he pinched the tips of Claudio's fingers.

Claudio stretched out his arm, obeying.

“Thank you,” Archie beamed, scrubbing his stinging wrist like it was the most fragile thing in the universe. 

Claudio was uncomfortable when Archie knelt down, cleaning his legs, his eyes inches away from his dick, and he pulled his slick, brown hair boorishly. 

Archie looked up at him with a soft frown. “Be gentle,” he scolded, and allowed Claudio to pull his hair just gently now, just in case it relieved him. “You're handling this very well so far. Thank you.”

Claudio grew frustrated. He considered pissing on Archie's already wet hair, but discarded the idea; he did not need more punishments.

Archie moved onto Claudio's entire body. The hybrid was mostly clean from how many times he had pointlessly soaped himself before, so he did not need to do as much work. He was careful washing his dick, asking for permission first, although he was remaining cautious. But he was reminded of their time a couple of days previously. He recalled the way Claudio squirmed as he neared his orgasm, his regretful curses, and especially his quiet moans, that all explained how he wanted the pleasure through a mask of seeming uninterested. How he was more of a whore than he seemed. Only Archie knew that, but was it really only him?

But his groin stirred, so he stood up and distracted himself. “How do you want your hair done, sweetheart?”

Claudio scowled, and his eyebrows made him look ten times more vicious. “That's not my name.”

“I'm sorry, Claud.”

“Only the ones who I love may say my name in half.”

“I'm sorry, Claudio. How do you want your hair done?”

“Conditioner,” Claudio replied.

Archie was slightly bewildered, but still squeezed conditioner onto his hands. “So you want me to just run this through your hair?”

“Yes.”

Archie wet Claudio's hair and spread the conditioner through it until the dragonfly said it was enough. (He had no clue how to work with curly hair). Then, he rinsed it out thoroughly, and as he did that, he noticed how calm Claudio looked. Relaxed. But sadness was still in there somewhere. To finish the shower odyssey, he turned the knob until the water stopped running. A chill washed over them. 

“All done!” he praised, and pushed the shower curtain away. 

Claudio stepped out and water collected in puddles on the floor.

“Let me get you a towel,” Archie said, and walked over to the closet. “You did a great job. Do you like being all clean now?”

“Mhm,” Claudio mumbled.

Archie wanted him to talk more. To be a little less shy. It seemed he only spoke to reply or to complain. “You feel like a new man?”

“Yes.” Claudio did not know if he should laugh.

“The ladies will walk all over you. I cleaned you good,” Archie chuckled, whipping a towel from the shelf. It was gray and thick; comfortable. All the hybrid needed was comfort anyhow. He threw it over his body and dried him, wrung his hair out, and wrapped it around his frame.

“Where are my clothes?” Claudio asked.

Archie looked around for a pile of black clothes, and he found some articles, but not all. “I don't know. They're scattered all over the place. Are you cold?”

Claudio saw goosebumps on his pink skin. “A little.”

“Well, warm up in the towel as I collect your clothes and get a toothbrush for you,” Archie said, and off he went again, around the bathroom.

Claudio fell to the ground and sank into the towel. It was warm against his chilly, shivering frame, like a mother's arms. Like Momma's arms. He wanted to be here forever, although he was naked, and  feel the warmth until death. Perhaps held naked in somebody's arms. Kissing. With a palm on his breast. Orgasmic sweat dripping from his forehead, like leftover water from his shower. He was lost in the dreamy reverie.

Archie squeezed toothpaste on the bristles of the toothbrush carefully. He looked back at Claudio, who had his legs crossed in an Indian fashion, his eyes closed, and the towel was draped over his shoulders. “Claud, brush your teeth. Do you want help?”

Claudio woke up from the fantasy. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Archie stepped closer to him, and a scent hit his nose.

“I'm sure.”

Archie could recognize the scent anywhere. “Just so you know, you're releasing a scent. Here you are,” he mentioned, handing him the toothbrush.

Claudio took the toothbrush and sucked on it, losing himself again in sexual daydreams, where the bristles were the nipple of a woman's breast. Then he felt a stir beneath, and he when he dropped his gaze, he could see himself doubling in size gradually.

Archie watched him suck and chew on the bristles. “You need help. You look distracted.”

Now that his fear of arousal was rising, he wanted the thoughts to leave him. He covered his crotch with the towel before Archie knelt in front of him and grabbed the toothbrush.

Archie noticed the strength of the scent growing and the worry in Claudio's eyes as he guided the toothbrush inside of his mouth. “Can you do this without my help?”

Claudio furled his fingers around the toothbrush and mimicked the motion Archie was making.

“Good. Keep doing that. I'm proud of you. Do you want me to dress you?”

Claudio shrugged.

“Well, think about it. Do you want me to comb your hair?”

Claudio nodded.

“Okay. Keep brushing. I'll comb your hair while you do it,” Archie said, and stood up, beginning to walk to the sink again.

Claudio was confused. Archie really did care. He never felt like this in a while—the feeling of being nursed—not since he had been with Momma. And a part of him loved it. Missed it, though this was a different kind of care. It was fatherly. A care he had never felt.

He felt the fingers of the comb running through his hair, carefully unknotting it under the authority of Archie's movements. An ordinary memory flew back to him. Micah used to brush his sister Shiloh's hair all the time, like a good father would.

“Keep brushing,” Archie reminded him as he slowly became distracted. “Good... I'm almost done. Then, you can get dressed and you may go do whatever before dinnertime.”

“Do you love me?” Claudio asked him.

“I love every hybrid in this building,” Archie replied. “That's why I like to make sure you're satisfied in your season.”

“Oh, I love you...” Micah whispered into his ear, and took him by surprise. “Fuck, Claudio...”

Tears were streaming down Claudio's cheeks, but they were covered by his hands, invisible. Everything hurt. Scratches and bite marks coated his body. Was this what it was like when Micah bred females? Did they end up feeling injured?

“Stop crying, chéri,You're supposed to love this with me...” Micah moaned, and bit his neck. “Mmm...”

“It hurts,” Claudio sobbed, repeatedly shifting under Micah to pointlessly make himself comfortable.

Micah pushed himself deeper inside of his son, and clawed his hips to keep him in, then he came, shooting useless babies into his body, his dick pulsing, as he kissed him on the neck. “Mmm... Good boy... Finally, you did your job...”

“I'm your son, not your mate,” Claudio whimpered, and was slapped so hard the sound could be heard from outside the room.

“I don't care. You're my son and your chore is to please me. You're fourteen. You get chores, whether you like it or not,” Micah growled, then began to thrust again, just to cherish the feeling. “I love you so much...”

“You only love me when you fuck me,” Claudio whined.

“What if I don't want my season to end?”

Archie was concerned why he was asking. Was it because he enjoyed the pleasure in a fortnight, and wished that he could have it longer? Did he want a baby? Did he want the weekly sex that was provided for him? Did he want a sexual relationship?

“Why?” he found himself asking. 

“Because... I... Want...” Claudio trailed off, too uncomfortable to answer.

“What do you want? I'm the most trusted person you can tell,” Archie assured him.

Claudio was silent for a few seconds. “Are you sure? You won't tell?”

“Of course I won't.”

He's lying.

“You aren't lying?”

“I'm not. I want to answer your question and ask you mine.”

“I'm answering it already.”

“No, I have another question but just answer my first before I ask.”

Claudio hesitated. “I liked my season.”

“Oh. I see. Usually hybrids are burnt out after their seasons. But yours started late, so I understand. I have Viagra for hybrids if you ever want it,” Archie answered. “Now my next question. Did you swallow your toothpaste?”

Claudio hushed.

“Hm?”

“Sorry.”

Archie chuckled. “Felicity can deal with that. Wanna get dressed now?”

“Am I going to die?” Claudio hissed.

“No. You'll be fine. Don't worry. Come here and let me help you with your clothes,” Archie said, and pulled the towel from the hybrid's frame, immediately slapping him with a wave of cold air.

Claudio stood up, and his eyes quickly averted to his dick, his mind demanding shelter from a rain of discomfort, a rain that was pouring and soaking him. In Archie's head, was he judging? When he looked up, his eyes were gazing, and he looked away faster than the speed of light, noticing him.

“Want help?” Archie said. It sounded like an excuse.

Claudio choked on his words, instead swallowed a ball in his throat.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Archie repeated himself, waving an article of clothing. “It's okay.”

Claudio did nothing.

Archie stepped closer to him and tapped his leg with his pointer finger. “Put these on. We can't waste time. Other hybrids might need to use the bathroom.”

Claudio shook his head, not comprehending anything.

“You need to. You can't just be naked.”

“They are—you want me—You—” Claudio mumbled, the words he wanted to spit out blurred and mixed.

“I didn't understand. What?”

Claudio mumbled again, and he didn't even know what he was saying.

Archie looked into his soulless eyes, concerned. “Are you okay, sweetheart? Slow down.”

“I don't know,” Claudio murmured. He lifted his leg so Archie could slip it into the leg of his boxers.

“You seemed okay a minute ago,” Archie acknowledged, and covered the dragonfly's crotch with his boxers, hoping that it would bring him safety, but he heard him whimper. “I'll put your shirt on then I'll walk you to your room. You can dress yourself in there if you want.”

Claudio flinched when the door was opened, and held back a scream. For a second he thought somebody was sent to murder him until he saw Felicity's brown hair, inviting him into protection.

Archie looked back at her. “Hey. We're almost done.”

“Hybrids are saying they're about to pee themselves,” Felicity scoffed, irritated. “How are you two doing?”

“The shower went smoothly. I got him to brush his teeth by himself while I combed his hair,” Archie said, then his voice lowered. “But he's starting to act strange.”

“Are you feeling safe?” Felicity asked.

“I am, but I don't know if he could snap,” Archie replied, picking Claudio's black shirt up from the floor. 

“Just don't agitate him. Let him go take a nap,” Felicity advised.

“By the way,” Archie began, then paused, just to slide the shirt onto Claudio's torso. He said his next words while buttoning it up. “He swallowed his toothpaste instead of spitting it.”

“He's fine. At worst, he could have a stomach ache. But some water should prevent that,” Felicity informed, then smiled at the hybrid. 

Claudio was handed the rest of his clothes, and he held them tightly as if it would kill him to drop them. He felt so naked, despite being clothed. The look of his body nearly faded from his memory, since he never paid attention to it in so long. Was it because he was so desperate for touch? Where would he love being touched most? How would he find out?

“Let's go,” Felicity said, tugging Claudio by his wrist, forcing him to follow her. Archie stayed in the room to dress and dry himself. 

The door opened slowly and a wintery air drenched Claudio. He wanted to rush to his room and wrap himself in a blanket, but he was required to keep up with the nurse's walk. But the cold air was not the only reason why he was desperate for a small space that trapped him, it was also the bareness of his legs that made him feel exposed.

Eventually he got to his room and Felicity abandoned him. First, he threw his clothes in there. Then, he climbed in. The brown blanket was the first thing he grabbed, and he rested himself on his mattress, and pulled it over him. He did nothing for a minute or two, admiring the warmth. At last, he dressed himself in his remaining garments, claiming silently that he was exposed though blocked with a curtain.

But he left his pants halfway up his thighs, still wondering what his favorite place to be touched was. Sexually. He remembered when one time Micah held the insides of his thighs, and he was aroused for a second, but the forbidden feeling quickly wilted away when he analyzed the immorality of it.

His palms cupped the insides of his thighs, and he closed his eyes, let himself imagine that his hands were Cassiopeia's. He did not care at all that she was not his any longer. He loved her so much, and he was so sorry for everything he did wrong, especially for raping her, because it ruined his life. And whether or not it ruined hers he did not know. She contradicted herself too many times, saying she did forgive him, then saying she was petrified, coughing up constant paradoxes. He did not even know how bad the crime was. The thought of it did not even arouse him. He hated that night so much.

Soon he could feel his dick press against his thumbs. And he breathed in deeply, for here was where he began to feel uncomfortable with himself. At first he wanted to punch himself for being so horny, horny enough to be turned on by his own hands, but he realized that it was normal to explore himself as he grew older. Right?

When he pushed down his boxers, he sighed and swallowed nothing. Why did he want to be touched so, so badly? He did not deserve it if he could not use the pleasure in the right way.

It was scary at first to watch himself stroke himself, and he closed his eyes. But when the delight started to come closer, he opened them, just to observe his actions, so a future girlfriend could repeat them. His left hand was digging into the inside of his thigh, his thumb rubbing against his balls, making him whimper.

He let out multiple curses as his hand gained speed, as his hips thrust upwards in the same pattern, as he lost control of his words, and started to moan into the air. And finally, he came, blasting white strands onto his clothes and blankets, his orgasmic moan coming out as almost a squeak.

When he relaxed and withdrew his hands from his crotch, he looked around, putting himself into reality, displacing himself from his pleasure.

Two eyes at the floor. Watching. Squished like there was a hidden smile underneath.

The smile spoke, its voice sultry and feminine. “I heard you. I love the way you fuck yourself. You're my whore now. There's no turning back.”

And he wanted to commit to that just by the sound of her voice.

 

Notes:

next few chapters will be sexy. the ending of this was just a start ~~~

Chapter 12: Chapter 11: YOURS

Caramel wisps of straight hair that was dipped in blonde gradients flowed down to her chest. Her mascaraed eyes were large but like a cat's when she narrowed them; a perfect combination that complimented her full lips, painted with red lipstick. 'Angel' was written on her white shirt, cropped although it looked smaller for the material hugged her plump bosom, and if her breasts were smaller, it might have reached her waist. Blue denim shorts with a black belt that sagged to the side wrapped around her upper legs, so short that from behind you would catch a glimpse of her ass. Or maybe more than a glimpse—a stare—if you were as desperate as Claudio, when this woman swung a leash that she chained to his leather collar, skipping in a circle.

Her voice was enough to make a man whistle. “I find this really fun,” she giggled, and tugged him, and halted, making him sigh that the pleasurable torture that he endured was over. “So, you wanna introduce yourself? I'm Kinder. I'm a former pornstar. I'll get into that later, but I'm really curious to hear about you.”

“I'm the most wanted serial killer in the world,” Claudio bleated.

“Straight to crime, huh? I raped my coworker off-cameras. Though I swore he wanted it. That's why I'm here,” Kinder admitted, squatting to meet his eyes.

“I just said I'm the most wanted killer in the world and you still aren't running.”

“I know about you. And you didn't even tell me your name. But I hear of you everywhere. You're Claudio. You killed three people and now you're here. You aren't the most wanted. And you're fucking sexy.”

“Just because I masturbated like everybody else does?”

“No. It's something about your moans and the way you touch yourself.” 

Claudio failed to meet her eyes. “Do you only want me for sex?”

“Of course not. That's why I want to know you better. Although, I would really love if we could do that soon,” Kinder flirted with a smirk, and fluttered her Monarch butterfly wings, as orange as a young fire that was birthed from gasoline.
 
“I'm infertile,” Claudio brooded wistfully.

“So what? We won't have a baby right now. That depends if we're really meant for each other,” Kinder said. And one look into his eyes swirled her into a desire to be his. She wanted to be close to him as they slept, in his strong arms, protected.  She wanted to mate with him.

Claudio stood up. He considered leaving. How could anybody love him when he looked like this? How could anybody kiss his thin lips? How could his fat body be fucked? He was not meant for anything. Anyone. He was meant for death. 

Kinder stood up with him. “I still want you  if you're infertile. I'll still masturbate over you.”

“I'm not worth your time. I'm not pretty enough and I'm fat and wingless anyways. I'm too delusional and weird to be around you. I know it. You know it,” Claudio said, and turned away. He opened the door to the outdoor shed they were in, and brightness stained his eyes, making him squint. But the leash was not that long, so he was jerked back. “Let go of me. I can't be yours.”

Kinder walked up to him sadly. She grabbed his collar, but did not unleash him. “Nothing you said is true. You're pretty. You aren't fat, and if anything, I'm fatter than you are. Look at how chubby I am.” Claudio did not look. She was not even chubby, though not thin as a stick like Cassiopeia. “I promise you aren't fat.”

“For a dragonfly, I'm overweight,” Claudio replied, his voice shaking, hinting tears. 

“Who said dragonflies need to be skinny?”

“My father. He's the first dragonfly hybrid. He was made in a lab. He makes the rules for us.”

Kinder's heart stopped. She had talked to him a couple of times. Micah. And Micah was a man nobody could say was unattractive. How could Claudio say this about himself? Just because he did not fit into his hybrid beauty standards?

She could tell he was starting to cry. “Your father is beautiful. He made you just as beautiful as him.”

“I look more like my mother,” Claudio said, and with the thought of Momma, he began to sob. “I wish she was here.”

Kinder hugged him from behind. “If you call her, she mi—”

“She's dead! I saw her die!” Claudio cried, covering his face. Blood was strewn across the floor in his mind, and when he  pulled his hands down, the blood came to life in front of him, and Momma's body flickered. “I look so much worse than her! I look like how she looked after her face was blown up!”

"Oh God, how did she die?” Kinder asked gently, her palm sliding over his hand. 

“Micah shot her.”

Kinder was disturbed. Micah had told her he was in prison for abuse, nothing else. Not murder. “I'm so sorry. If I knew that, I would have never talked to him.”

“What did he say to you? I bet he talked about me.” Claudio wiped away tears.

“He said you were a disappointment, and when I asked how, he shook his head.”

“Because I could never please him when he raped me countless times.”

“Oh, my God! A sexy boy like you does not deserve the pain he put you through!” Kinder explained, and sat on the edge of the shed. She pulled him closer, and he sat down with her. “Do you need anything else off your chest?”

“Yes. Unleash me. I know you're just going to pretend to love me and lie to me like the last girl did and get with my father who is much older than you,” Claudio answered, and saw Cassiopeia sitting in a bench that they once rested in, her boyfriend in the spot he was on. It cracked his heart. But why did he still care? Why was she so pretty? She had the most perfect suntan, eyes as blue as the ocean, a body that a bikini could perfectly embrace. She was the beach as a hybrid. 

Kinder turned his head towards her so he could look away. “Cassiopeia is a spoiled bitch. That's why she did what she did.”

“I was not pretty enough for her.”

“Even I'm not. I can't be friends with her. She'll betray me.” Kinder's voice was so hot, too hot.

She fluffed her hair, her beautiful flames of caramel. Claudio observed every inch of her. She had a blasphemous cross tattoo on one of her thighs, suggesting her personality. He could tell she was tan. How could she say she was not as pretty as Cassiopeia? Was she really not as confident as she seemed? She was sexy, sexier than Cassiopeia, and she turned him on.

“Unleash me,” he pouted.

“No. I want you here.”

“Listen, I love you, but I can't be with you.”

“Love is such a strong word!” Kinder nearly screamed. She took a cigarette and a lighter from her pocket, lit the cigarette and thrust it to her lips.

“Well, what if we took the word, deciphered the innocence, and well,” Claudio hesitated and watched her puff smoke from her full lips. She looked at him with eyes telling him to finish. “Fucked?”

Kinder's jaw dropped just as she was about to take a drag.

“What would you do?”

“Let me finish this first,” Kinder said with a smile. She unleashed him and with a wink, and took the drag before she stood up, when she blew the smoke out. “Go inside. Get ready.”

The leash hung over his torso and touched his ankles. He backed into the shed and slid the door shut, blushing when she threw at him the most flirtatious wave he had ever seen. 

Claudio unbuttoned his shirt slowly. He was sure. Sure about letting his virginity be stolen by a girl he had just met. Sure about having sex with her in general. She was a kind woman who has willing to hear him out and speak with him. Cassiopeia was nothing close to her. She was a bitch. But so was Kinder, in a good way. She was his bitch. And he was her whore.

The black shirt dropped to the ground, and the clattering sound made him kick off his boots. He stopped for a second to hear silence, meaning Kinder was still smoking. His hands worked with his fly, undoing it, then pushing his jeans down and off his ankles. 

Before he took off his boxers, he imagined her below him, her sexy doe eyes staring at him as she sucked him. He really did want this. He wanted it so bad. His fantasies were soon to swallow him whole, and that would lead to another big mistake that would petrify him from himself again. 

The metal leash was cold against his bare skin, and when it touched his dick each time he took a step, he became more eager. When was her cigarette done? 

Outside, Kinder stomped on her cigarette,  wondering how she was going to find him when she walked in. She sighed as she touched the shed's door handle. Would he be resting on the floor doing flirtatious gestures?

To her surprise, he was—

“I'm standing here. I'm waiting,” he finished her thoughts. “Get down on your knees and suck me.”

Kinder pushed her cropped shirt up, exposing a light pink lace bra that barely covered her breasts. She jerked down her shorts, and she wore matching panties. “You're so surprising.”

“I always do weird things.”

His voice was even hot when she was not looking at him, instead she was untying her Converse shoes. “I like what you do.”

“Well, I don't, so make me,” Claudio pressed, wrapping the chain around his finger.

“Oh, give me that,” Kinder hissed, then crawled to him, her ass in the air. She raised herself to her knees in front of him and grasped the leash tightly. “Let go, my fucking whore.”

Claudio slid his finger out of the metal noose. He felt so turned on it hurt.

“You look so cute,” Kinder cooed. Then, she finally grabbed his dick, and shoved it into her mouth. “I hope your dick loves to wear lipstick.”

Claudio tried to laugh through a moan, his head rolling back. “Stop.”

Kinder licked his tip and the lack of contact made him cover his face and whimper. She left a lipstick stain on his stomach when she kissed it. “I'll make you red with my lips.”

“Just touch me,” Claudio murmured, his hand slithering down to his dick, but before it reached, it was thrown away, becoming subject to the wall. “Stop playing.”

Kinder giggled and kissed his dick. How far could he go? 

“I said stop.”

That far. (Not far at all.)

Kinder stroked his dick as she spoke. “I'm sorry. I'll make you feel so good,” she promised, then engulfed his erection into her mouth. Soon her hair was being tugged and her head was being pushed and pulled back and forth. 

“Pull the leash if I go too far,” Claudio said gently. He caressed her cheek with a moan. 

Kinder listened to him groan and whimper. He was so close already. She moaned, sent vibrations to his dick, making him lose control and claw his face. So she jerked the leash and drew away from his dick. “Don't scratch yourself, baby. It hurts. Hold my hand.”

Claudio bucked his hips into her mouth and her eyes widened. He weakly tightened his fingers around hers, his other hand still in her hair. And he could hardly even form words, swearing silently that he was trying, though his moans were conquering his eloquence. Soon he was whimpering, unable to control his volume, so, so close. 

Then Kinder wrapped her tongue around another time, and he pumped cum into her mouth, which she swallowed with determined, squinted eyes. And when he seemed to calm, she pulled away with a long strong of saliva or cum or both, and asked, “Safe to swallow? Choking hazard?”

Claudio moaned again, then giggled. “You're funny.”

Kinder stood up and held his arms. “For individuals eighteen and over?”

“Mhm...” Claudio sighed, beginning to run his fingers through her beautiful hair, the affection telling her he was thankful.

“How old are you anyway?” Kinder asked him, playing with his hair.

“I'm fifteen,” Claudio replied.

Kinder stopped her movements and gasped. “Fifteen!”

“Yes.”

“So, so young! I'm nineteen! Are you sure you love me? Do you want to leave or..? I'm just...”

“I'll be eighteen in three years,” Claudio said. He had her wrapped around his finger like the leash. 

“You're still a boy.”

“I know. My father had my brother at my age.”

“Guess it runs in the family, then. It's different for hybrids anyways.”

You need to be transformed.

Claudio hugged her. The pleasure was only a temporary barrier from the voices. He wanted more pleasure. Needed it. 

You should give up. They talk shit.

Kinder hugged him back and kissed him on the lips. She was so oblivious of what was happening inside of his head. “I love you, Claudio.”

“I...—”

There is something happening with you.

“Love you too.”

“It's okay if you want to leave. I'm too old for you,” Kinder told him.

“No. I'm just... It's my... It's just getting loud.”

“I barely hear anything.”

“I don't know, I think my face is changing but I don't know,” Claudio mumbled. 

“Huh?”

Claudio kissed her forehead to fill the silence.

“If you mean you're getting wrinkly, you're not at all. You are fucking beautiful,” Kinder assured him.  

Claudio's hands moved to the sides of her breasts. “You are, too.”

“Don't flatter me. I don't mean to sound egotistical, but I was a pornstar. I have to be beautiful,” Kinder said, and held his shoulders. There was a heavy look on his face, like he was eager for something, like he needed something. She was trying to figure out what it was as she stared into his eyes.

“Well, you aren't a pornstar anymore,” Claudio responded. “You're a prisoner. With me.”

Kinder knew he was right. She had to forget about that lifestyle, no matter how much it shaped her image and personality. It was the reason she acted so much like a slut. She could not drag him into that, for he was only fifteen, still maturing, though he thought he was  completely matured. He was so naive to act like an adult, but Kinder thought it was adorable. A part of her wanted to tell him to leave her and enjoy the last of his teenage years before life became so much more significant. But then again, he was so cute.

“Kinder, the voices...”

The hybrid was taken away from her thoughts. She did not know that about him. “Oh, um... Do you want the nurse?”

“She can't fucking help,” Claudio growled. He recalled how stubborn  Felicity was about his medication, even if it was not intentional. How could she not help someone so important? It made him bitter. “The pleasure you give me distracts me.”

“That's good.”

“No, Kinder, I want more,” Claudio told her. She seemed worried, so would this offer revive her smile? “I don't care I'm fifteen. I'm a man. I want to fuck all day.”

“Later. I want to think about it. And you aren't a man,” Kinder retorted. 

Why did she switch so suddenly? “Minutes ago you would have agreed to fuck me! All until I told you that I'm fifteen!” Claudio snapped.

And then he slapped her.

Kinder's jaw dropped and when she closed her mouth, her lips quivered in anger. “What is wrong with you?” She turned away from him and pulled her white shirt over her breasts. “I'm leaving for now. Stay here.”

Claudio watched her clothe herself with her shorts and shoes, all without looking at him. Everything was his fault. 

You're so stupid. She hates you.

He blocked his ears and fell steadily down the wall.

Kinder tossed him his boxers before heading out. “At least put these on. When the nurse comes, she doesn't want to look at your dick.”

“Why are you mad?” Claudio whimpered.

“I wonder,” Kinder said sarcastically. The shed door was slid shut.

You're such a loser. Hahaha!

Claudio covered his ears again. He hated when they laughed.

Kill yourself!

You are weird.

He hurriedly dressed himself with his boxers, and slipped on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, while singing, “I wanna live in another place... No one will say that I'll live for them...”

There were still voices in the air around, but his singing was louder, so was able to fully dress himself without shriveling up to the floor and crying. He could not rap like Mike could, and he did not even know the words, so he kept singing the chorus. Over and over. 

Then, when he saw an ax in the corner of the shed's interior, he silenced, and the voices started to urge him to murder himself. Finally, now that he was alone, he could die without being stopped. He could finally be freed.

“Kill yourself! Kill yourself!” Claudio mocked the voices. “I am! Stop! I am!”

He tightened his fingers around the ax's handle and held the steel edge to his face. He was not that strong, so how could he do this? 

Light poured into the dim shed.

“Oh, Claudio, stop! No, no, no! Put that down right now!”

He lolled it to his head.

*****

An announcement had been made over the loudspeakers, since it looked like Kinder murdered Claudio, after she ran out, and he was carried out of the shed unconscious with blood pouring from his head, just to clarify her innocence. Hybrids had been troubled, especially the younger ones after they saw the trail of blood that lead from the courtyard to the nurse's office. 

Felicity had been unsure if he was going to live.

Kinder flicked off the lights. Each patient turned to her, but she ignored every one of them. The only one she cared about was her boy. 

“Thank you,” Felicity said, undoing Claudio's collar, and bundling up the leash still hooked to it. She handed it to Kinder. 

“Why did you take it off?” Kinder asked with the leather in her hands. 

“I'm taking away anything that he could kill himself with,” the nurse answered. She held the gauze to Claudio's forehead to soak up more blood, and he opened his eyes. “You're going to have a nasty scar right in the center of your forehead.”

He shut his eyes.

Felicity sighed, met gazes with Kinder. “What happened when you were with him in the shed?”

“He started to beg me for sex and I told him later, then he got angry and slapped me because he thought I would've immediately consented if we didn't share our ages. And he complained about hearing voices,” Kinder explained. 

“Did he rape you or anything?”

“Oh, no. We did something before that but we both wanted it and enjoyed it. He said the pleasure distracts him from the voices.”

“Okay. He's schizophrenic. I don't know if you knew that. He's been off his meds for weeks and we're still trying to get him some.”

“Oh. That explains. I didn't know that.”

“I doubt you were the reason he tried to kill himself. Don't feel ashamed.”

Kinder nodded and climbed onto the bed with Claudio. She placed the collar at the very end of the bed.

“Also, Claudio, how do you keep getting girls?”

“She was spying on me masturbate then this morning she wanted me to go in the shed with her so she could get to know me better,” Claudio replied, and held Kinder's hand as she rested her head on his chest. It was so cute to him, and he blushed.

“Oh. I guess hybrids are different,” Felicity laughed. “I'll check on you shortly. I'll leave you two alone.”

Kinder stared at the tattoo on her thigh that read “YOURS” in Gothic lettering. It never really meant anything before, but now that she was here in Claudio's arms, she understood its meaning. She was Claudio's bitch. 

“Read my tattoo,” she whispered.

“I don't want to get up. My head fucking hurts,” Claudio hissed.

Kinder sat up and placed her foot right under his crotch. She stretched out her entire body so her thigh was right in front of his face.

“I know,” Claudio cooed after he read it. “I love it.”

“When my time here is over, I'm getting a dragonfly tattoo to forever think of you even when you're not with me,” Kinder said, shifting back down his body. “I'm sorry for leaving earlier. I wish I, like, helped you or something. Instead of just storming out. I didn't realize how overwhelmed you were getting.”

“I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have slapped you and said whatever I said,” Claudio apologized.

“You didn't really say anything bad. You just snapped at me,” Kinder corrected. 

“Oh, well, I'm sorry for snapping at you.”

Kinder kissed his cheek. “So what made you want to kill yourself if it wasn't me?”

“They told me to. I'm so done with my life and I just hate who I am and I hate everything about myself and it felt right to listen to them,” Claudio ranted. He listened to the quiet voices for a moment. They sounded... distorted, unlike usual.

“That's a permanent fix to a temporary problem,” Kinder purred softly.

“No. I'm going to be like this forever. I don't want this life. My illness can't be cured. That's why I want to kill myself. I just want a normal life and a loving family and a mother,” Claudio said, and held his lover tightly, loving how she nodded at each one of his sentences.

Kinder kissed him fondly again. It pinched her heart to hear his pain. If she did not leave earlier, would he not have tried to kill himself? She loved him. She knew that the second she laid her eyes on him last night. She could not let him do something like that again.

“I love you,” she breathed into his ear. 

“I love you, too,” Claudio chirped. “Will you sleep with me?”

“I'll stay here until you're all better.”

Claudio was already dozing off despite the pain in his head. His words came out blurred, like how they occasionally did on a normal basis, but he could not speak this time, exhausted and burnt out. He did not know what to think anymore, how to think. Was it worth it in the end to be saved, instead of bleeding out to his death? Was it worth it for Kinder?

“Felicity is coming,” Kinder warned to keep him awake.

Claudio woke up startled at her voice. The nurse was shuffling over to him with ice in her hand, and he sighed, rolled his head to the side, and tried to go back to sleep.

“I know you don't want help, but Kinder wants it,” Felicity said, and pressed the ice pack to his head. “Are you hungry? I understand if you aren't. Lunch starts in ten minutes. If you are, I'll bring it in here so you can eat where its not loud.”

“I'm not hungry,” Claudio replied.

Felicity turned his head forward. “Okay. And sleep with you head like this, or blood will start flowing again. I'll replace the gauze if its necessary and I'll do the ice. You need rest.” She tapped Kinder's shoulder. “Are you hungry?”

“I'm a little anxious, but I'll try to eat,” the butterfly hybrid replied politely.

“You may eat in here with him this one time,” Felicity favored.

“Okay. Thank you,” Kinder beamed. 

When Felicity walked away, Claudio pulled Kinder closer to his face. “You're a sweetheart under your slutty disguise,” he whispered in her ear.

Kinder giggled. “Yeah.”

Claudio closed his eyes, desperate for sleep with the nauseating throbbing in his head, and the stinging in his forehead. He was sure he was not going to have a deep sleep like he usually did, he would be waking up occasionally being greeted with pain, but a little bit of slumber still settled with him.

Then he felt it. Her lips. Her teeth. Sinking into his neck. It added on to the pain in his head, but a part of him loved it for some reason. It was a different type of pain. Love. 

“My mark,” Kinder smiled.

“So am I really yours?” the dragonfly asked.

She said it with the same, sultry voice as always. “The answer is on my thigh.”

Notes:

i love kinder so much.... she's better than cassio.

and this chapter is 42 words shorter than my limit which is 4500 and yeah its a big deal.....OK its kinda not......

BTW this chapter is where the title comes from if u didnt see it! ^_^

Chapter 13: Chapter 12: Kinderwhore

Notes:

kinder was inspired by a shabutie song like cassiopeia. i think yk which one by the title of this chapter

A week of dizziness, of headaches, of vomiting repeatedly, of nights spent in the nurse's office, of hearing his girlfriend's cries—if he could even call her that—it seemed to go by slowly. Still, he was occasionally hurt by the lights and the cafeteria's crowd, but he did not need the nurse all day like he did for the first few days. Gauze was still treating his wound, and so was antiseptics, but though it was uncomfortable, it was better than accepting the fact that he was going to have to live with a large scar for the rest of his life, in the worst place ever. Now each girl that looked at him would think of him differently just by the gross scar on his forehead.

Seriously, how could he be more handsome like Cepheus? He considered cutting his hair, but Kinder told him it gave him personality, and besides, he really did not want to do it. He shaved his  stubble after convincing Felicity to let him use a razorblade, but after seeing a boy with a mighty beard's lips being swallowed by another girl's for a minute or two, he decided to grow out his stubble a little. He slept more, or tried to, since the concussion made it difficult, to brighten his appearance. Felicity helped him with his acne, that grew with stress. He stopped eating to lose weight, and no matter how hungry he was, he never took a bite of anything. It was like that for a day or two so far, and Felicity was concerned.

Kinder fell in love with him when he masturbated, not because he looked pretty anyhow. Cassiopeia never said he was beautiful. Perhaps sex was the only reason she loved him.

He knew that because she was here, wearing a revealing bodysuit to turn him on. Just to fuck. Forcing his gullible mind to take Viagra. Manipulating him with addiction.

When he walked into Archie's office, his smile faded. He looked tired again. Sex would trigger his symptoms again, and he did not desire that at all. It would be his first time having sex with a girl, and he was not ready, but at the same time, he needed that pussy. 

“Hey, Claudio, are you feeling better?” Archie asked him kindly.

“Better enough to fuck.” He stole the Viagra from the shelf overhead.

“Oh. Damn. Usually hybrids get burnt out a few weeks after their season ends. I thought yours would end later than that.”

“The concussion seemed to blow it off.”

“Aw, I'm sorry. Well, you go and have fun. Take care of yourself.”

Claudio wiped the tiredness off of his visage before leaving the main office. The blue pill was pinched between his fingers, but he was nauseous, and he could not even look at it.

When Kinder met him at the doorway, she saw his sickness. “You okay?”

“I've been stressed out,” Claudio said, his voice dry. “You know that.”

“Just tell me the truth.”

“I don't think I can do this,” he admitted.

Kinder kissed him on the lips quickly. “We'll be gentle. We won't go fuck in some crazy place. We'll do it on my bed. I have comfy blankets. Okay?”

“I don't know, Kinder. You don't understand how bad my concussion was,” Claudio murmured, and pushed her away. He began to hurry across the hall.

“But it's been a week!” Kinder exclaimed. What did she do wrong? Why was he being so cold? She knew how stressed he was about his illness, his injury, and his looks. She knew how long he was trying to go without eating. And she kept telling it would make him sicker, but why did he not mind? Was he upset he did not get to die? 

Claudio slipped into the men's restroom and immediately crashed in front of the toilet. He could not even think of swallowing the pill. Would it fatten him?

He dropped the pill to the concrete, for even touching it made him sick. His headache only added to the nausea, and he knew he was about to vomit, but he was scared to. It reminded him of the sickness he had, the fevers he endured after being tortured with pills. 

“Claudio?”

“Go away.” He did not mean to sound so harsh.

“I'm worried.”

“I know.”

“Well, uh, I'll be in my room. I love you.” Her voice shook. She really was worried; why else would she be close to tears?

“I love you, too. I'm sorry.”

His mouth filled with saliva, and he counted down the seconds, his elbows on the toilet seat. Then, with a cough, he vomited, throat burning. He despised this, and after a second round of disposing acid from his stomach, he curled up on the ground and shivered in disgust.  The blue Viagra pill stared at him, shining hauntingly, burning into his eyes until he had to close them. It made him feel sick again.

He thought he was going to sleep, until after a few minutes, when Felicity burst in. Why was she helping him again?

“Kinder was crying when she told me to help you in here. She is very worried about you, and I am, too,” the nurse said, and kneeled in front of him. She took the pill, recognizing it by the color. “What's wrong?”

Tears pooled in Claudio's eyes, and instantly, he was sobbing, burying his face in his arms.

Felicity rubbed his shoulder soothingly. “Tell me. I can't help if you don't tell me.”

Claudio sat up slowly, Felicity helping him. “I can't take it anymore.”

“What? What can't you take?”

“Everything!” he cried, tears streaming from his face. “I'm fucking fat and I hate it and I feel sick!”

Felicity was shocked. He never cried like that, so close to screaming. Usually, when he shouted, it was not as loud, and it was a complaint. He was always so quiet and shy, reserved. It was hard to get him to speak about his feelings. 

“Calm down. We can find healthy alternatives, but I have to tell you, you aren't fat at all. Your father puts things in your head that aren't true. He's lanky, and he was born like that. You were born bigger. You aren't fat,” Felicity said, shaking her head at her last reassurance. 

“Micah doesn't like that, though! I don't! I want to be as skinny as Chester!” Claudio bawled.

“Chester was underweight. You're a healthy size. If you want to shape up, would you mind taking long walks or jogs around the facility daily?” Felicity suggested.

“I don't care!” 

“You aren't fat, okay? Don't starve yourself. I know you've been doing that, and its why you're sick. I'll tell the chef and he'll give you a low-calorie diet. Is that good?” 

Claudio nodded and wiped tears.

“And I have good news. You wanna hear it?” Felicity asked, an endeavor to brighten the mood. 

He nodded again.

“I got you meds. They're coming in a week or so. It was a lab across the country,” Felicity beamed, tucking the pill in her pocket.  

Claudio did not know how to react, and continued to cry. The meds meant Momma would leave. What if he forgot what she looked like? But he was so delighted at the same time to finally escape the voices.

Felicity was concerned why he was crying. “Something wrong?”

“Momma will be gone!” He broke down again.

“I'm sorry, but you can't find comfort in your hallucinations. That's not safe. Do you have any pictures of her anywhere—”

“Not here! I don't know where they are!”

“Calm down. I know you're stressed out but you need to calm down a little. Does Chester have any pictures? Do you want me to call him?” the nurse asked, a hand on his shoulder.

“Call him,” Claudio agreed. “I don't want to. He hates me.”

“He doesn't hate y—”

“He did not tell me he loved me back! He hates me!”

“I'll talk to him about that later. Do you need anything else off your chest? I've been very concerned for you lately,” Felicity asked him. With the absence of a response, she pulled out the pill. “Are you using masturbation to cope?”

Claudio was silent, uncomfortable.

“I won't tell anybody.”

“Sometimes, but that wasn't what that was for,” Claudio stammered.

“What is it for?” questioned the nurse. 

“Kinder wants to take my virginity.”

Felicity was slightly surprised. “Are you ready? I mean, you went in here to throw up with the pill. You don't seem better enough to have sex.”

“I want it, but I can't think and everything hurts...” Claudio sobbed. He imagined his girlfriend with the bodysuit, and did not even feel turned on. His season must have been over. 

“How about you wait a little? You're still sick and hurt from the concussion, and the stress is not making it any better. Sex has too much activity and it will trigger your symptoms. What else can you use to cope?” Felicity recommended. 

“Writing and sleeping, but sex is more distracting,” Claudio answered.

“I know, but I don't want you to become addicted. Do you listen to music ever?” 

“No, although Chester does and I like it.”

“I'll give you a couple of CDs and a player and headphones to keep in your room. You'll really like it. It'll quiet the voices and it will distract you from your stress.”

Claudio nodded. “Okay," he said, accepting the offer.

Felicity stood up to flush the toilet, meanwhile checking if his vomit looked healthy like a good nurse would. It did, and she was glad. “I want you to get some rest. Where do you want to go?”

“Kinder's room,” Claudio replied.

“Okay, but if she asks you for sex, you know how to say no, right?” Felicity interrogated.

Claudio shrugged and stood up. 

“I believe in you. Especially because your season is over,” Felicity said with a grin, walking over to the door. She held it open for him.

The hybrid stepped out of the door, immediately looking to the left. Shit. Kinder's room was the first room on the bottom, right next to the men's restroom. She could have heard everything. His cries, his screams. Would she worry?

“Take care,” Felicity wished as they parted ways.

Claudio turned into Kinder's room. He predicted it; the girl had a concerned look on her face. “You heard nothing.”

Kinder raised her eyebrows. “Yeah. Nothing. Did she help you at all?” she asked, two hands on his torso. 

“I guess. I don't know how to feel. My head hurts,” Claudio grumbled, falling into her safe embrace. “She told me to rest.” 

Kinder tried to kiss him, but he whipped his head away, and she felt betrayed. “Did she say anything about me?” Her emotion was clear in her voice.

“No, no... I did not mean to offend you. I just don't want you to taste the vomit on my lips,” Claudio assured, before he closed his eyes, brows slightly furrowed in pain. “She told me you were very worried about me.”

Kinder pulled a fluffy blanket over them. “I am. I heard you crying in there, and I've always known you as a cute shy boy, and I didn't think you had that in you.”

“Me neither,” Claudio agreed. “My life sucks, expect it.”

“Well, I'm here for you,” Kinder assured him, and kissed his head. “You may tell me anything when you need.”

“Nothing feels real. You don't seem real. Our relationship doesn't seem real,” Claudio said. “I've been lonely for my entire life. I never had any friends, nobody ever loved me, everybody leaves me, and the voices remind me of that all the time.”

“We can last forever. Will it feel real?” Kinder asked.

“No,” Claudio responded and sat up, stretching his arms. He scooted out of Kinder's arms. “I'm going to my room. I don't feel good.”

Kinder grabbed his wrist hastily. “No, don't! Come and lie down in my blankets. Your room isn't as comfortable. I'll go to the courtyard so you can be alone and you can go to sleep. Just stay, just in case I come back.”

Claudio's voice shook. “I didn't mean it as in sick, I mean, my head hurts and I'm tired as fuck, but I'm... Terrified, and uncomfortable. I'm scared. But I feel like they're all going to jump out at me and I don't want to open the curtain.” He flinched and covered his ears. When he spoke, he sounded frail. “I'm uncomfortable.”

Kinder pushed away the tiger print blanket. “Lie down, please. You're safe in here. Nobody ever bothers this room. Nobody very harmful is near this room.”

Claudio had no clue how to survive, so he obeyed, and rested his lifeless body on the mattress. Kinder laid the blanket over him, and he held it close to his face, secretly claiming that it provided more protection.

“Cute,” Kinder scoffed, and leaned down, muzzled away the blanket, and melted her lips into his. She could feel his tenseness at first, but eventually, he touched her cheek, and relaxed. 

But something happened in Claudio's mind as he caught a scent, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, freeing a moan from her throat. He pulled away when he finally ran out of breath, breathing in for a refill just to say, “I want to break the rules.”

“What rules?” Kinder flopped onto him. 

“The rule Felicity gave me. I can't fuck because of my concussion. But your scent and your kiss,” Claudio breathed, his voice thick with lust.

Kinder cocked her head. “We can be quiet so nobody snitches. Did you take the Viagra?”

“No, I think it was the scent, I don't know... My hormones are always fucked up. I don't know what turned me on so easily,” Claudio said, his stomach cramping when Kinder ran a hand up his thigh. “I've gone too long without this. Don't tell Felicity.”

Kinder undid his fly with eyes fixed on his. “So... Let's fuck?”

Claudio pulled out his belt. “Please, Kinder.”

“Oh, no,” Kinder gasped, and pressed down on his dick, applying pressure to tease him, to make him suffer. “What did you just call me?”

“Your... Name?” Claudio was puzzled. What did he say wrong?

“Well, in the bed,” the butterfly uttered, fluttered her majestic eyes, and clutched his bare neck, “you call me Mommy.”

“Okay, Mommy, fuck me,” Claudio pleaded, and slid down his pants with one hand, for the other was on her hand, that held his neck. “I said fuck me.”

Kinder jerked his pants to his knees. “Unbutton your shirt, whore. I'm going to make you beg for it since you've been declining my offers all week because you've been sick. I touched myself over you so many times. We both need this so bad.”

Claudio watched her take off her sequin bodysuit as he fumbled with the buttons. Her breasts seemed to jump of the suit, and she winked at him when it happened. His cheeks alchemized into his least favorite color.

Kinder crawled onto him, and ground herself on his thigh.

“Stop, just fuck me,” Claudio begged, and dug his fingers below the waistband of his boxers. “I need this.”

“I know,” Kinder cooed. She pulled down his boxers, and gaped at his hard dick. “Are you ready? It's your first time.”

“Yes, please, fuck me.”

“What?”

“I said, please, fuck me.”

She continued to please herself on his bare thigh. “Mmm... I wish I could share this pleasure with somebody...”

“Me, please, me,” Claudio said, pulling her hair.

“Ow, fuck,” Kinder hissed, and pressed down on his throat with her thumb. “You have to beg more because you hurt me.”

Claudio gave up. Eager tears were already coming to his eyes. He could not be loud for the secret, and he wanted to scream at her for what he wanted. His throat was closing with frustration, and the thumb on it did not help. 

Kinder felt terrible all of a sudden. He had dealt with horrible thoughts in the past week, regarding his entire, shitty, life, on top of the pain from the concussion. She knew how much the pleasure distracted him from the voices, and how much he liked that. Why was she making him beg for freedom, when he was complaining a minute ago? When he was terrified?

She kissed him on the lips and cupped his cheeks. “I'm sorry, baby. I love you. You look adorable.”

“I love you, too,” Claudio whimpered. “Will you fuck me?”

Kinder smirked and raised her hips. “Please, Mommy?”

“Please, Mommy,” Claudio echoed before his lips were buried in Kinder's palm. When she finally sunk onto him, he moaned, the sound muffled in her hand. 

“Are you still shy in bed?” Kinder asked, beginning to move her hips. Ride him. She gasped at the delight. “Will you talk to me and praise me as we fuck or will you just moan and beg for more?”

Claudio hooked his fingers around the blanket and brought it over his face, beginning to moan into it repeatedly.

“You're really shy,” Kinder said, bouncing  up and down on him, pushing him deeper inside. He twitched, and she held his breast, the other hand on his cheek. “And sensitive.”

“I don't even know what it means to be sensitive. Archie called me that, too,” Claudio whimpered. 

Kinder moved the blanket away from his  face. “It means you become a fucking mess when it comes to sex. Look, you can't even control yourself. You're moaning and bucking your hips involuntarily. It's like you waited your entire life for this.”

Claudio felt like that, too. Sex did feel much better than a lifelong abuse, much, much better. It felt so much different than being raped. He needed this so badly.

“Don't moan too loud. This has to be a secret,” Kinder whispered, then smiled slowly, her eyes squishing. “Whore.”

Claudio reached for her hand, his upwards thrusts becoming stronger, squeezing soft moans from her throat. “I'm close, Kin—”

Kinder slapped him on the cheek, and her insides became warm, and she gasped in response. “That's what happens when you call me by the wrong name. You like that?” She touched herself and soon came with him, listening to his whines of relief. Her head rocked back and she breathed heavily, holding back moans. “You ruined it. I guess I have to punish you.”

“Please, Mommy,” Claudio puffed. “I want to feel you forever.”

“Oh, I'll give you more later. It'll just be a little more painful. You need to calm down before you start to feel sick again,” Kinder said, and crawled off of him, letting his limp dick droop. “I'm going to go to the courtyard so you can rest your head. And I'll leave the curtain open so we can get the smell of sex out of here.”

Claudio found himself reaching out for her as she started to slide on her shiny, black bodysuit. He wanted her to stay with him and cuddle him in the warm blanket until the next dawn. An orgasmic weakness conquered his body, and he was paralyzed to the mattress, not bothering to even pull up his pants. His eyes were nailed into hers, the hammer her love.

Kinder leaned down and engulfed his lips in hers for a quick second, her hand on her cheek. She then pulled the blanket over his frame, up to his chin, for she knew how shy he was. “Goodbye, baby. I love you. When I come back, you'll be all ready for me.”

“Yes, Mommy. I love you, too,” Claudio squeaked, his cold skin being tackled by the warm provision from the blanket.

“Now you can't get that name out of your mouth. You are such a fucking whore,” the butterfly teased, then kissed him again with a moan. He slightly cowered under the blankets with a pained expression. “Feeling okay?”

“Mhm... It's just my head,” Claudio replied. “I liked what we did but it hurt me.”

“I'm sorry,” Kinder said, looking away.

“Don't be sorry. It'd hurt if we went gentle or not. You know how much of an impact it has mentally and physically,” Claudio croaked. “I needed that.”

“I needed that, too. I'm so glad you enjoyed it for your first time,” Kinder agreed, and kissed him on his left brow. “I'm going to head out now. Get comfy and get some rest.”

 Claudio turned to his side, watching her leave. The curtain was opened fully and he squinted through the sudden light. 

They are all against you.

“Bye, Kinder,” he said, with slight frustration in his voice. A frustration that made him want more of her to distract himself. Now. Again. 

“Bye, Claud.” Then she was gone.

And he was asleep shortly, exhausted from everything.

*****

“Hi, Claudio,” Felicity said, rubbing her patient's shoulder, waking him. “Just checking on you.”

Claudio covered his face with the blanket. Everything that happened before he fell asleep seemed unreal. Crying was a vague memory, but the sex was just... Unbelievable. He felt so groggy and sick; how could any of it have happened?

“Look at me. None of my patients in the office need help right now, but I don't want free time, especially when you're so  hurt.” Felicity moved the blanket away from his face. “I wanted to know if you're eating dinner. It starts in about twenty minutes.”

“No,” Claudio rasped. “I'm really tired.”

Felicity pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, and he winced, for his wound was touched softly. “I'm just checking if you are sick, or its the concussion. Can you try eating dinner? One meal won't do anything to your body.”

“But I don't feel good,” Claudio groaned.

“I know. You might feel better once you eat something. I want you to try,” Felicity encouraged. “Did you have a good nap? It was pretty long.”

“I guess,” Claudio answered, then his eyes started to batter the walls. “Where is Kinder?”

“She's in the pond with her friends. I talked to her before I came here and she said you seemed paranoid. Then she took a sip from her drink and said, 'I love that whore, he's so cute.' She really cares about you, you know,” Felicity beamed. “She brags to her friends about how lucky she is to have you.”

Claudio smiled and blushed. He envisioned her, her elbows on the wood as she sipped from her drink, water up to her breasts, speaking about him in her seductive voice. “She drives me crazy.”

“You don't mind being called a whore, right?” Felicity asked. 

“I love to be called names like that,” Claudio admitted, and shrunk into the blanket, hiding his face. “I love when she hurts me.”

“Are you sure?” Felicity was genuinely concerned, but did not know if he was speaking from his head.

“I love when she slaps me and bites me,” Claudio grumbled, his hand crawling to his crotch. “It makes me cum...”

Felicity shook him. “That goes in your notebook that's in your room. Not to me. I know you're comfortable with me, but that's too personal.” She smiled awkwardly. “Come on. Wake up. You can't touch yourself; the pleasure is too much for your head.”

“I know... But I want it...” Claudio moaned, stroking himself lightly.

“Stop it. You're in front of me,” Felicity demanded, grabbing the blanket at his face. “Claudio, it's too much for your head.”

“Leave me alone...” Claudio whimpered, shaking with delight.

“I told you to stop, so stop. I know you're a hybrid and hybrids get, like, uncontrollably horny, but I don't want your head to hurt,” Felicity ordered, and ripped the blanket off of his body. She threw his arms over his head and pulled his pants up for him. “Next time you listen to me when I tell you something. I really did not want to see that. You're more like your brother than I thought.”

“I'm sorry,” Claudio uttered, his voice small. He crawled out of the blankets to stretch.

“Don't get up too fast,” Felicity warned, a hand on his arm. She nearly gasped at the strength of his scent. “What happened to you? Your scent has gotten strong.”

“I'm horny,” Claudio snapped as if it was obvious. He hopped out of the room, his boots triggering a thunderous sound on the concrete hall. 

“Coming to dinner?” Felicity asked again.

“Yeah,” Claudio replied, as he began his trot to the courtyard. The sunlight raced to his head, and he squinted, though it continued to sting.

A hybrid stared at him like he was a psychopath, but really it was his stitched forehead, dressed with gauze for protection that caught everybody's eyes. It was like this for a while already, and the constant questions that asked if he was okay seemed to slow down a few days after his injury. To him it seemed like every hybrid asked him if he was alright, except for Micah, because he would surely not care. For now he wanted all eyes off of him, besides Kinder's.

She was finishing her drink when her friend tapped her shoulder and pointed to him with a smile. At first Claudio believed they were laughing at him behind his back, or it was not her, and he was seeing things again. But she squealed happily and gestured him over with a finger.

Claudio knelt down on the damp grass at the edge of the pond, his knees becoming soaked with a green tint. “Hello,” he bashfully chirped with an innocent tone, wanting to appear small, just in case they were plotting against him.

Kinder placed her hands on his thighs. “Hi, Claudio! Woah, you look so hot with your shirt open still.”

Claudio was just about to hug her by her head, but she jumped up beside him. He caught himself eyeing her thighs as they squished and doubled beneath her. When he looked at himself, he expected himself to be triple the size, but he was skinnier. It surprised him.

“Is my bed comfy?” she questioned sweetly, reaching for his waist.

The second she hugged his waist, her ancestors danced in his stomach like her hand launched them through his body. He blushed. “I couldn't get out of it.”

“You look so cute when you wrap yourself in my blankets,” Kinder flirted, pulling him closer. He straddled her thigh at last, and she kissed him first.

Claudio deepened the kiss almost immediately, his hands reaching for her face. He slid up her thigh a bit when she slipped her hands in his shirt and held his breasts. Her thigh in his crotch bestowed him so much pleasure, rubbing against all of his favorite spots, making him moan. He soon started to ground on her, breaking the kiss, his hands falling to her collarbone. 

“You loved that,” Kinder gasped, now caressing his hips, encouraging his motions.

“Fuck me,” Claudio begged, rolling his head to her neck. He fingered his belt and trembled with lust. “I'm so horny.”

Kinder kissed him again, just to tease him, and he cried out into her mouth, then destroyed the kiss again. She pulled his hair roughly. “You wanna be  punished, huh?”

Claudio adored the pain. “Uh-huh...” It was a mix of a moan and an answer. “Ah... Ah... Fuck...”

“Use your words, baby,” Kinder cooed, stroking his back, just driving him crazier.

“Fuck me, please... Mmm...” Claudio moaned, his breaths ragged, his nails digging into her shoulders. “Please, Mommy, fuck me so hard my head explodes...”

Kinder threw him on the ground roughly. He looked offended and pained at first, until she hopped onto him, then his expression softened entirely and he whimpered for more.

Claudio's glassy eyes were pointed at the burning sun. “Punish me.”

Notes:

see I try........and look up........to the sky........but my eyes buuurn.... (cloud)

(basically the end of this chapter)

Chapter 14: Chapter 13: Paranoia

Notes:

paranoia is also the name of a prise ^^

Kinder hugged his pillow, and a scent made her wings flutter, a scent she immediately recognized. The scent of sexual excitement in hybrids. All in his pillow. She smiled, for that could only mean one thing. He used this pillow to masturbate. What a whore.

The scent was trapped inside of the notebook, too, she realized, a bit freaked out. With a slight hesitation, she flipped the pages. 

The first page was a character design, which she thought was adorable. He was secretly nerdy, and with him also being the dirtiest slut she'd ever known, it was the best combination. But at the bottom of the page, the was a sentence that said, I miss you, Momma. Her heart shattered, and she turned the page.

There was a scribbled image of a figure that did not look real by any means. It had a strange head and a wraith body. She thought it was another character design at first, until she read the words, When will this stop following me. I'm scared. It's going to kill me. Everybody will kill me. Nobody is saving me. Everybody hates me—

She stopped reading it in order to keep her heart intact, and flipped the page.

She immediately flipped again, for the next page only had blood on it. If this notebook was so dark, why was there a scent inside?

God chose me obviously and it's why I'm different. I'm the most important. She flipped the page, disturbed.

There was a drawing of Cepheus dead, his head exploded in pieces. Her jaw dropped. It read, FUCK YOU I WILL NOT HESITATE TO SHOOT ANOTHER PERSON IN THE HEAD!

The next page had a heart on it and a drawing of Cassiopeia, with more words she could not make out the meaning of. Don't let the wind follow.

She wished she did not read the next page. There were blood droplets and clear spaces were the ink distorted which she assumed was from tears. I hate you so much Cassio. Why did I tell you everything.

She believed she was so much better than that moth. Never had she made him cry or bleed.

The next page was a start to his slutty behavior, but it was terrifying. I want to be raped. I have no one. I'm so horny. I'm not enough for myself.

Is that why he fell in love with her and followed her into the shed? Because his confidence was so low he could not enjoy masturbation?

She cherished the next page, practically a love letter with cum stains. This was where the scent came from.

I LOVE HER SO FUCKING MUCH I WANT HER TO SLAP ME AND CUT ME AND SPANK ME AND TIE ME UP AND FUCK ME SO HARD I CAN'T FEEL ANYTHING

It was clearly about her.

I love when she hurts me. FUCK she turns me on so fucking much. She smiled and considered masturbating to it. I love calling her Mommy she treats me so nicely like a mother would and gives me what I want I love her so much.

Kinder remembered the way he blabbered about how much he loved her as he tilted his head far back, his tied wrists over his head, giving himself to her as he had his orgasm last night when he was punished. Perhaps she would slap, cut, spank, tie, and fuck him until he could not feel anything. He was a good boy, and he deserved it.

She reached for the pen in the corner, clicked the top, extracted a sharp, black tip. Then she scribbled a note at the bottom of the page, It's Kinder. I love you, too, baby. Keep being a good whore for me and you'll always get what you want. A heart was drawn beside her last word, written in the cutest writing.

Kinder closed the book with a sigh. She loved how loved she felt. It did not feel fake, like it did in porn. Like it felt when she was required to fuck in front of the cameras. Claudio had opened her eyes to true love, and that was more than sex. It was also cuddles, kisses, sweet words, trust, and the cherubic, little things in between. 

Surely he would leave her if she fucked him more than kissed him. He was sensitive, not just in bed, but she understood the way his troubled mind worked after a week. He constantly flew to conclusions, he was easily overwhelmed and annoyed, he would cry in seconds when provoked of a memory, and he seemed to lose his structure when touched on the back. 

Where was he anyway? Last she knew he was asleep in her bed, but he was a light sleeper with his concussion, and he could have woken up and ran off to a secluded place to kill himself. And she was here for a while.

She slipped out of his room, and rushed down the hall. When she bent down to look inside of her room, the curtain was halfway open, the blanket was against the wall, and he was gone. Fuck.

“Claud!” she called out, growing hopeless quickly. 

She turned to the left, into the main hall, and there he was. Many feet ahead of her, but still visible. In the corner, right beside the door of the main office. Nobody was there next to him to comfort him. He was curled up, clearly afraid, looking as skittish as a dragonfly would be. Like his paranoid mind could see in all directions, in dragonfly eyes.

Claudio did not believe it was her who was calling him. She was dead. They swallowed her up. A figure loomed over him, and he did not know if he was swearing from its body heat or from his fear. He suspected it was from its heat. It had neon green eyes, the same color of Micah's hair, the reason he hated the color.

“Claudio? Wanna talk?” It was not Kinder. The sultry voice was not audible in those words. He still did not look up.

Kinder pushed past the manager. “He needs me, but thank you,” she said, then lowered herself to meet Claudio's level. “Hey, baby.”

“Shut up... Don't mock her...” Claudio mumbled shakily, breathing heavily inside of his arms. “Please don't hurt me.”

“Look at me,” Kinder urged, then grabbed his arm uselessly.

He swung it away, and shouted, “I'm not dumb!” But why did its arm feel so real, instead of peculiar like how Momma felt when he tried to hug her? He was now sure his “nightmare” was reality. It made him shiver and stiffen and curl up tighter.

“Claudio, it's Kinder,” Kinder said softly.

“Don't lie! Just kill me already!”

Kinder ran out of options. He was hallucinating. What else could she do besides kiss him? Could he feel fake kisses? She leaned in, and planted a wet, pink kiss on his forehead. 

Claudio wiped it off as he swatted the shape shifting figure away. But as he did it, he saw her. How could it even morph into her?

“Touch me.”

Claudio flailed his arms, screaming when his wrist was grabbed. He tried to pull away until he finally noticed that his skin did not tingle on his wrist. When Momma touched him, she tickled him. Then she always faded away, dissolving into the air.

The figure did not disintegrate. That meant it was real.

“How did you get into my life?” he sobbed.

“We met a few days ago, Claudio. I thought you knew that,” Kinder replied, terrified.

“I thought it was a nightmare!”

Kinder released him, offended. “And I thought you loved me!”

“Why would I love you? Stop trying to be her! You killed her!” Claudio cried.

“Who did I kill?”

“Kinder, idiot!”

“But who?”

“You killed Kinder!”

“I... I am Kinder,” the butterfly uttered, confused.

“You're not!” Claudio screamed, only to be slapped.

Kinder then grabbed his face, observing his tear painted cheek, fearful gaze, quivering lips. Her words were coughed through a hiss. “Can hallucinations fuck you?”

“I don't know?” Claudio sounded interested but petrified,, and his chest rise and fell like waves in a raging river.

“The pleasure makes the voices go away, right? It distracts you, right?” She smiles when he immediately started to unbutton his shirt. “Prove it, baby. If I'm a hallucination, then I'm one of your voices. Make the pleasure prove my reality.”

Claudio ditched half of his shirt, and undid his fly, huffing, occasionally whimpering impatiently. He was not hard, but he needed to be, now. How could it seduce him? How could he seduce himself?

“Please, turn me on,” he pleaded, in despair. 

Kinder was just about to take off her shirt, but a voice stopped her.

“You two. In my office now.”

Claudio relaxed completely. If the manager could see it, too, then it was real. It was not a hallucination. It was Kinder, and she was here. Alive. 

“Not in trouble. I won't whip you. I'm more concerned for Kinder,” Nicole warned, softening Claudio's expression.

Claudio stood up with Kinder, fixed his fly, and became defensive faster than light. “No. It was my fault. I told her to fuck me. Whip me, not her.”

Kinder looked back at him, her eyes a threat, snapping at him to not lie. “I can take a beating,” she whispered.

Nicole led them to her office. “Sit in those two chairs,” she demanded, then nearly slammed the door behind her. Kinder sat down, and when Claudio tried to sit in the same chair as her, she lost it. “You're so scatterbrained, boy! Other chair!”

Kinder frowned at her. Scatterbrained was not the word, especially when he was in the middle of a psychotic break. Besides, she wanted him to sit on her lap.

Claudio sat down, and took the vase all of the pens were in.

“Put that down,” Nicole growled, making the table shiver when she placed her plump body on her office chair. “Why would you think it was a good idea to act sexual in the hall for everybody to see? Hybrids are crazy when aroused. We don't want to increase the chance of rape happening.”

“We're sorry. I wanted to prove to him that I'm real. He thought he was hallucinating, and sex makes him distracted. We should have moved somewhere else,” Kinder apologized.

“Well, if he's experiencing those symptoms, he does not need sex, especially with a concussion. Go see Felicity if you're concerned,” Nicole snapped. 

Kinder stood up and pushed her chair under the desk. “Understood,” she agreed, then tapped Claudio, who sorted pens by color, on his shoulder. “Let's go.”

*****

Claudio's eyes were stuck on his lap like they were superglued.

“Why are you acting distrustful?” Kinder asked, his face suddenly cupped in her palms.

“I still believe you're the figure that shape shifted into Kinder. I think it's real. It's not a hallucination. I know it,” Claudio replied. “They are evil, right?”

“If evil is scaring you and making you feel upset about yourself, then yeah, they're evil,” Kinder said with a shrug of her shoulders. 

Claudio jerked back, and secretly claimed her touch was poisonous. “What do you want from me?”

Kinder reached for his hand, at least, but he did not take it. “I want to know why you suddenly feel that I'm not Kinder.”

“I had a nightmare, I think. There was a scary thing that ate her up. Then it started to chase me and I woke up. And when I woke up, I started to hear the strange noises it made, so I ran to the corner. But it followed me. How did it know I was there?” Claudio's voice was filled with a miserable confusion. “I don't even know if I'm awake. I don't think so.”

“You are awake. Those figures were real in your sleep, but you woke up, so they aren't real now. What you saw that followed you was a hallucination,” Kinder explained gently. 

“So you are a hallucination,” Claudio concluded. He closed the curtain until he was sure no light could come in. “Why do you not disintegrate when I touch you?”

“Because I'm real.”

“So I'm still sleeping.”

“No! I am the real Kinder. I never died. That was just in your dream, and dreams are never real!” 

Claudio began to tear up. “I don't know if I can trust you,” he rasped. “I'm really scared and confused.”

“I know, baby, but you just have to trust me, okay?” Kinder tried to hold his lifeless hand a second time. “The figure can't shape shift. It never said it can, right?”

“No,” Claudio sobbed. 

“Maybe it got scared when I ran to you, and disintegrated. Then I stood in the same place as it so it looked like it shape shifted into me.”

“So I'm awake and Kinder never died but you're the real Kinder and the figure was not real?” 

“Yeah. Believe me.”

Claudio slowly crawled into her arms, trusted her finally. He hugged her tightly, dug his nose into the crook of her neck. “I'm sorry.”

“No, it's okay,” Kinder said, and hugged him back. “I love you.”

Claudio sat up straight in her arms. “I love you, too,” he chirped, and wiped away his stray tears. He missed her so much in the time he believed she was dead; it had felt like a part of his heart was ripped off. Should he feel stupid that she was here all along?

“I want you to be honest. Did you enjoy our time last night?” Kinder asked him kindly, eyes shimmering with love. 

“Of course!” His face squished in a smile at the memory.  

“I did, too,” Kinder said, and looked away, for his smile was so cute that if she looked she would explode in admiration. A single glance at his wings brought an idea to her head, and she spoke it aloud. “So, I'm sorry if this is personal, but,”

She hesitated, but Claudio urged her to continue with a soft, “Hm?”

“What do dragonfly hybrids like?”

Claudio's eyes averted to the wall, and he was lost in thought. It was hard to act like a true dragonfly hybrid, like Micah and Chester, with weak hormones and three wings. For him personally, he liked to sleep, and Chester did, too, but Micah did not care for it, so it was not a dragonfly trait. And he also loved warmth. Chester did, too; he had heard him complain about his wings shivering when he was cold, then asking to be in his boyfriend's arms. But what about Micah?

“Shut up. You have a blanket already,” Micah's mate said, the mother of Claudio's sister, Serenity, the swan hybrid.

“I'm still scared of my wings shivering. So hold me,” Micah begged, leaning closer to her. “It's a dragonfly thing, you know?”

“Does your son do this to you?” the swan  asked, and wrapped an arm around him as he desired.

Micah was serious. His sweet tone flipped the second Claudio was mentioned. “He knows better that I won't cuddle with him. He always gets hot anyway. He was raised in New York.”

​​​​Claudio stammered at first. “We don't like to be cold.”

“What else?” Kinder questioned, unbuttoning his first button. “Sorry. Each time you do something cute, I unbutton.”

“What did I do?”

“Just talk.”

Claudio blushed. “And...” he began, but a second button was undone. 

“I smelt your love for me for a second.”

Claudio was silent before speaking again.   “And we like certain flowers.”

Kinder smirked. “Butterflies, too,” she added. She could feel a tension grow between them.

“I have a pretty sexy way of getting warm,” Claudio stated out of nowhere. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he kissed her quickly, making her unbutton again. His shirt was halfway off, and now his chest was like a tourist site for her. She eyed it like she wanted to snap photos of such beauty.

“What is it?” Kinder finally looked into his eyes.

“I think you know.”

“I don't.”

Claudio's fingers slid up her shirt. “Don't play.”

“I love playing with you,” Kinder taunted, and stuck out her tongue.

It happened in a second. Her tongue was a perfect target for him, and he got a bullseye, his mouth the arrow. Both of their muscles relaxed, and Claudio heard a moan from Kinder's throat that made his wings dance for a quick second. She was starving for a kiss like this, he could tell. Soon his hands crawled up to her face, and he locked her in their kiss, keeping her from breaking the kiss earlier than he wished. Then again, they could not kiss forever, even though Claudio could go that long.

Eventually, he breathed, “Fuck me.”

“You aren't worn out from being fucked so much lately?” Kinder asked, a hand on his chest.

“How could I be worn out?” Claudio questioned.

“Good point,” Kinder muttered, and began to unbutton the rest of his shirt. “Have you always been on bottom?”

“Yes,” Claudio replied, while he fidgeted with the collar of her shirt. His breaths were heavy with lust, filled with want. 

“Well, don't you think you should try to be on top like a good man would?” Kinder questioned, her cheeks prominent as she smiled.

“But, like you said, I'm not a man,” Claudio reminded her, and the passionate tension was murdered, his crime being unavoidable in his empty gaze. 

Kinder pinched his chin with a thumb and her first finger. “You aren't, you're fifteen, so you're right, but you sure act older than you are.”

“How?”

“Well, you got with me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

The tension's heart beat again. Kinder's eyes had a sexy tint to them, and she said, “If you think so. And I don't. To be honest, I'm having lots of fun with a boy like you.”

Claudio leaned into her involuntarily, and he was surprised to feel his lips be crushed by hers first, so in love with it that his eyelids crashed against each other, and he could not see, but only feel. Could only taste. It was almost a gift to feel his belt be undone by her smooth hands, and to match his nakedness, he did the same to her. He yearned to see her lingerie, whatever color it was, for it frequently changed, and he yearned to finger the lace it was always made of. 

Kinder destroyed the kiss. “How competitive are you? How about a race to see who can get undressed first? The only rule is we have to undress each other.”

Claudio snickered, “I'll win, whore.”

“Bet,” Kinder scoffed. “Whore.”

“Okay. How much do you bet?”

“None. At least no money. If you win, I promise a sexy pond date. What do you bet?”

“A sexy pond date.”

“Damn. You're competitive. Pick something different. It can't be the same thing, cheater,” Kinder laughed.

“If you win, I'll give you babies,” Claudio vowed, holding her hand.

Kinder rolled her eyes, pulled her hand away, and slapped him playfully. “It doesn't work that way, idiot. And I don't even want kids with you yet.”

“It's hard to promise anything when I'm always with the nurse,” Claudio admitted, failure in his tone. 

“Okay, but listen. It's nothing against you that I don't want kids. I said yet. It's hard to be pregnant here with all of the shit that goes on, trust me, the mothers in the nursery complain all the time. You're young and not mentally stable enough to raise a baby Plus, you're not even fucking fertile. And we've known each other for, like, a week, at least,” Kinder said, Claudio nodding through everything. “Ignore the nurse. Pick something else. A date.”

“If you win, you cuddle me all night until I wake up, because I'll be exhausted after this,” Claudio replied. 

“I like that,” Kinder agreed, and just as he raised his hand to reach for her shirt, she huffed, “Go.”

Claudio's hand was thrown back, then he was pushed, and immediately, he outstretched both arms to try to grab her shirt. His head felt hurt again, and it was getting hard to focus, but he made an attempt to at least touch her shirt. Then he weakened suddenly, and a pressure inside his thighs amplified.

“Fuck, please...” he moaned. 

“Hah. Weak spot, huh? Now undress me,” Kinder urged, grabbing his hand. She tried to pull him up, but puffed, “You're too heavy for me.”

“Yeah, because I'm fa—” The words were slapped from his voice. 

“No, you're just a boy, and I'm a weak girl,” Kinder said, and ground on his dick for a second, making him pant.

Claudio bucked his hips, but it gave little pleasure, so he cupped his erection, his other hand on her low rise shorts. “Hurry up before I make myself cum.”

Kinder jerked down his black jeans to his ankles in one, swift pull. “Loser.”

Claudio sat up, ready to compete. “They won't go over my boots. So you missed a step. Now come the fuck here.”

The butterfly crawled onto him and sat on his thighs. “What?”

Claudio slipped his fingers under her shirt and her bra at once. He peeked at the color of her undergarment simultaneously; it was black, a color that looked striking on her, especially in lace. “You could've done this, instead of taking everything off of me individually,” he said, and threw off her shirt and her bra.

“Good strategy. I'll keep that in mind for next time,” Kinder replied. She looked into his loving eyes for a second, manipulating him to stare into her hypnotic gaze, then hastily pulled off his shirt to confuse him. “You're losing.”

Claudio pushed her to her back, and just as he got ahold of her shorts, she took the opportunity to bend her arms backwards, and pull off his boots. He slapped her breasts in defeat, and she giggled. “Fuck, you're smart.”

Kinder brought her legs over her body, and instead of staring up at the ceiling and the bright light, she met his eyes, her hands on his jeans. “Hello.”

It was like she did a knockoff back flip on his body. And while he was thinking about what he witnessed, she tugged off his pants. He fluttered his wings uselessly like it would help him, then planted himself of his knees, pulled her shins, immediately fixing her position to help him.

“Ow!” she laughed as her shoes were untied and off. “Why did I say 'ow'? You're going to smack my ass harder than the ground did.”

“Exactly, bitch,” Claudio hissed, and as he slid down her shorts, she was a laughing mess. A blush spread across his cheeks at the sound of it. 

“Okay!” Kinder's voice was conquered by her laugh. “You win!”

“Not yet,” Claudio corrected her. “We're equal.”

Kinder wiped away tears of joy and realized he was right. Both of them had their underwear on. “Oh, I'm gonna win!” she exclaimed, then pounced on him like a tiger. He kicked under her.

“Your panties are pathetic,” Claudio said, gripping the strip of lace that covered her wet pussy. “I can slide in here. I don't have to take it off.”

Kinder jerked down his boxers. “You lose!” she blurted, and ripped his hand away, slightly more eager to fuck than before, just because her pussy was touched. She slipped his boxers down his shins.

Claudio accepted his fate as the loser. As much as he wanted the pond date, it was okay with him to be be cuddled all evening rather than be tired and walk around in the courtyard before bedtime. He sat up, and as he did, she laid down on the bed, her arms folded behind her head.

“Come here, take off my panties, and fuck me,” Kinder demanded with a sexy smile.

Now that the game was over, Claudio gently pulled down her panties. He spread her legs, his hands behind her knees, and guided himself inside of her.

Kinder let out a long moan. “You feel so good...”

Claudio held her right hip as he began to thrust slowly. Perhaps the game took too long to finish, because he was hungrier for his climax than before, and picked up his pace gradually, but quickly. He steadied himself with a hand cupped around her cheek, breathing and huffing into her ear, his air hitched at each thrust.

His warm breath was slapped onto her skin, but how could Kinder mind, when he was on top of her, doing exactly what she wanted him to do? It was wonderful to take a break from being on top for a while, and she loved it even more to give him a chance. 

Pleasure flooded her body continuously, and she could tell he was feeling the same, as his moans became shakier, stronger, and his hips moved more roughly. Sweat was starting to coat the both of them.

“I'm close,” Claudio whispered as his hand scurried to her wrist. “Will you cum with me?”

“Mhm... Of course, baby,” Kinder moaned, and held his waist. “Faster. I'm too close to hold back.”

Claudio moved faster inside of her, and if he was honest, he did not like it, as it somehow numbed him from pleasure, too fast for him to process. “It's okay,” he puffed, then slowed again, and sat up to rub her clit. She squirmed, and just the sight of her beautiful pussy made him even more determined to finish. 

“Cum with me,” Kinder begged, twitching  when his fingers ran over certain spots. “I'm going to... God, faster.”

“It numbs my mind,” Claudio hissed, his voice slightly heightened, a sign of overwhelming pleasure. But to satisfy her, he quickened the work with his fingers—

“Fuck! Claudio!”

Then she bucked her own hips to fill in the gaps he failed to fill, and the movement hit all of his favorite spots on his dick, and he pushed harder inside of her, spitting swears from his mouth. He could tell so easily that she wanted to scream his name at the top of her lungs, her hands over her mouth. Claudio adored it, and he pumped his first shot of cum inside of her. His thrusts slowed down so much that it was like seconds tripled in length, and her moans forced him to fill her until he could not any longer. Kinder flailed her legs each time she became warm inside, as her own orgasm took over her body.

Claudio finally fell onto her, occasionally thrusting softly to bring back the feeling, instead of stopping it entirely at once. “I really liked that.”

Kinder was surprised he was the first to speak. “Me too. So... You can't go fast?”

“I can. I have too much going on in my head already, and focusing on the pleasure as it goes by too fast is difficult,” Claudio purred, and slowly pulled out of her. Cum flooded from her pussy, and he nearly smiled at his achievement. He flopped back onto her side.

Kinder crossed her legs, and could feel the warm wetness as she did. “Well, you did a great fucking job. You deserve some rest, so close your eyes.”

Both of them were dozing off, especially Claudio. Kinder had covered their nude bodies with the blanket, and she had sworn Claudio was completely passed out, until an announcement on the loudspeaker started him.

Attention, all hybrids. All Aggressive hybrids are required to come to the cafeteria at seven tomorrow morning. A hybrid will be randomly chosen to be executed, as we have a new one coming in, and no rooms left. The execution will be done in the courtyard, so all hybrids will be forced to leave or stay out of the courtyard at nine, after breakfast. There is no other choice.

And Claudio did not sleep that night, instead, he sobbed right in Kinder's arms.

 

Notes:

new main character next chapter, same exact thing as when in part one i introduced claudio in a teaser

Chapter 15: In the House of Flies (Teaser)

Notes:

why did this take like 2 weeks it was fun

A sigh poured from his lips, as his foot slid too far, and the skateboard that he pushed back and forth along the ground was sent down the ramp ahead of him. He was not going to go and get it. Nobody was here to steal it, anyhow, and all he wanted to do was sit with his thoughts in the humid night air, and smoke.

Usually he never lost the motivation to skateboard, but he felt so down lately, that he only could do what felt like nothing. It was all because of his best friend. She was in the hospital, for a reason nobody would spit out, a reason everybody got mad at him for when he wished to know what it was. Multiple times he had gone to her parents' house, being immediately kicked out and shrugged off. Sure, they were always rude, even to their own daughter, but this was different. What did he do to make them hate him anyhow?

He took a drag and blew out the smoke.

The last time she had came over to his house, she was strangely quiet, like something was stuck in her mind, and she seemed nicer when she spoke. She had complimented him on his beauty, something she had never done before. It hinted something special, a crush on him.  That night he slept wondering if she loved him. She had to. She had looked up to him and his generous family for years, so how could she not? 

Why were her parents angry at him? Did he fail to comfort her, and she perhaps came home crying? Did they want them to be together? He always failed to comfort her, so it was possible she believed they were not meant for each other.

With black mascara tears, she once said, “I wish I was a hybrid just like you.”

His heart broke, but he replied, “You don't.”

And she was bitter. 

He missed her. There was a growing spark between them ready to burst into a fire, and it was full of love. He had seen the signs. They were more careful about their moves than usual. More polite to each other. Prolonging eye contact. He regretted being an unpractical dick the last time he had seen her. He would have been nicer if he knew she was going to end up in the hospital. He would have told her he liked her. If she ended up alive, he would tell her before it would be too late.

They met in school as young children, in the fourth grade. And a few days after their friendship began, he grew his fly wings. She had thought it was the coolest thing ever, and though at the time she was cautious of hybrids, she was closer to him. She trusted him.

He loved the way she turned out to be, even if there would be times she pained him. 

The gate to the skatepark opened, and he heard his name.

“Chino?”

Perhaps if his skateboard didn't slip from his shoe, he would have stayed hidden.

It was his friend and band mate, Stephen.   “Why aren't you skateboarding?” he asked over the staircase, acknowledging the abandoned skateboard at the end of the ramp. “Are you okay?”

Chino waited until he was up the steps. “Yeah, I'm all right.”

Stephen sat beside him, but did not look at him. He knew that was a lie. “It's the girl.”

It was, he was right, but Chino hated to admit it.

“If you were all right, you would be skating, or you would be at home,” Stephen said. God, he was smart for that. Loyal. He always knew.

Chino stomped on his unfinished cigarette, smoke still spewing out of it in wisps, hoping the sudden action would distract the both of them. 

“Well, wanna hear something?” Stephen tried to force words from his friend's throat, no matter how much he did not want to talk about it. He never spoke about her in particular. 

“I guess,” Chino grumbled. It was probably some stupid joke to make him smile.

“I saw a car pull into her driveway, and it wasn't her parents. Do you know whose it could be?” Stephen asked. Chino looked at him, confused. “It was a gray car.”

It was her aunt's car. Her loving aunt's. Why would she go to their house unless she was dropping her off? 

“Okay,” Chino said, then demanded, “Drive me there. She might finally be home.”

Stephen looked at him. “How do you know?”

“Because her aunt will sometimes take her when her parents are fighting. She wouldn't go there for no reason,” Chino answered, and stood up. He started to follow his skateboard. It was a way to move out of the conversation fast.

Stephen stood up, watched him, and then began his way to the steps. “Meet me in the car.”

Chino grabbed his skateboard that had fallen in between two ramps. Now all he had to do was get in Stephen's car. 

It was a nice offer to drive him home, but he knew that the ride would be an excuse for Stephen to choke up words from Chino's throat. He hated to talk about her.  Always he had to avoid the answer whether or not he was dating her, which he was not, at least for now. If Stephen knew what happened to her, he did not want to hear it anyhow. He wished to find out by the looks of it.

When he got into the car, closed the passenger door, he expected a word to immediately come out of his friend's lips. But there was nothing. Instead, he found a channel on the radio for them to listen to, and hardly even looked at Chino. Perhaps he understood his dread. 

The ride home was silent between the two of them. Chino peered out of the window the entire time, in thought, and for Stephen it must have been the same. When they finally pulled into her driveway, Chino opened the door the second the car was parked.

“Stay here just in case she's not home,” he advised. Stephen nodded.

As Chino stepped to the front door, he looked inside of the gray car for any clues. There was nothing in there besides half empty water bottles and garbage. Nothing that hinted his best friend's coming. 

He knocked on the door. Would perhaps she answer?

Her aunt answered instead. “Hey. I haven't seen you in a while.”

“Is Kora home?” Chino asked.

“Yes, but she's asleep. Come back tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thank you,” he replied, then turned around. The door was shut behind him. I guess it is late, he thought. 

As he walked back, he did not look back. He opened the passenger door of Stephen's car with a shake of his head. “She's asleep,” he said.

“Oh. At least she's home,” Stephen replied, starting the car. When his friend shut the door, he pulled out of the driveway, and took him home.

*****

He was glad he did not have to knock on her door. Her parents were assholes, and they would grudgingly let him inside, and he would be left in an irritable mood. She was the one who knocked on his. His parents had let her come in, so it was a surprise to see her walk through his bedroom door. 

“Hey,” he said, looking at her entire body for signs.

“I need your help,” she softly uttered. There was no pain in her voice.

“With what? What happened to you?” Chino sat upright on the edge of his bed. 

“I had surgery,” she replied, and sat beside him on the bed, close enough to reach over and touch the right side of his waist if she wanted to. “I need you to help me cut holes in my dress.”

“Why, Kora? Tell me what happened,” Chino ordered, and found a suspicious bulge in the back of her dress.

 The sound of her name made her trust him. She stood up and grabbed the hem of her dress. 

Chino covered his eyes with his hands. He knew what was coming. The last thing he wanted to see of her was her undergarments. It was too early for that. The first thing he wanted was a kiss.

“You know I've always wanted to be a hybrid,” Kora told him, and slipped off her red dress. She was in her bra and panties, and was surprised he did not peek. “Look.”

“No. Tell me what happened.” He could only understand by words. 

“Just look. It's better to look.”

“It feels wrong to see you like that this early.”

“Why, because we're just friends?” Kora walked up to him and ran a hand through his bleached, spiked hair. “I loved you for a year.”

Chino felt the same way. 

“I have a feeling you don't want to see me because you're in your seas—”

“That's not it, shut—”

The rest of his sentence was finished through her lips, muffled. Kora's eyes were closed, and she could understand he finally uncovered his own, for his hands were on her shoulders. When she pulled away, their eyes opened, and he looked shocked.

“I love you,” she purred.

“I love you, too. I've always loved you,” Chino paused. There was a pair of fly wings on her back. The same as his. 

“You'll love me more as a fly,” Kora said.

That was not true. It was a stupid idea for her to change, without knowing the dangers hybrids went through. How badly they were treated. If the public ever found out he was a hybrid, his band would be hunted down. He wanted Kora to be safe, to not feel that way. 

“I'm sorry if this hurts, but you'd be better off as a human,” Chino told her.

“But my parents were the worst! You're the sweetest, most generous man I've ever known, and you're a hybrid! I've never met anybody nicer than you are. And if hybrids are that caring, then I'd rather be one. I didn't want to be a human. It made me look bad,” Kora explained, a rage building up inside of her. 

“It made you look normal,” Chino grumbled.

His honesty shattered her. “I didn't want to be normal! I wanted to be just like you!  Why can't you just accept me? This is the new me. The human Kora is gone, so forget about her!” Kora exploded, her voice shaking. 

“Okay, calm down! Let's just hang out as we usually do and I can try to get used to your change,” Chino suggested, his tone gentle.

How could Kora say no to that? He absolutely was the sweetest, and if he was not, he would have burst into a flame of anger. How did her yelling not set him off? How did he immediately come up with a compromise? He was so, abnormally angelic. And she adored that.

She sat down beside him casually. “This is why I've loved you for so long.”

“What makes you think I'll love you more as a fly?” Chino asked her, genuine. “Besides being the same species.”

“No, it's not that. We'll have more in common. I know about seasons. You know, one day when we're older, we'll be all ready for that. You know what I'm talking about. And if our relationship started earlier, then maybe that's what we could be doing right now,” Kora said.

“We could do it right now. That's not impossible,” Chino replied. 

“You're right. It's just weird. We kissed for the first time today.” She shuffled closer to him so that their thighs touched. “I hope for more between us.”

“I know. You want to know how seasons work. You're wondering how sex works as a hybrid,” Chino said, averting his gaze to hers. “You're wondering how it feels.”

“How does it feel? You have groupies, don't you?”

“We have had some, but I can't let them know that I'm a hybrid by seeing my body. I'm a virgin. I don't know how it feels.”

“And you're twenty years old?”

“Well, what about you?”

The somber shades of Kora's eyes left his sight, instead were pointed at the wall beside them. “I'm a virgin, too. I didn't want anybody to have sex with me while I was a human.”

That made Chino curious. “Did you change just to have sex as a hybrid?”

“No. I changed to be just like you. You know that.” Her arm was wrapped around his waist, and he seemed to lean closer to her. “Where are your antennae? I would have asked about it earlier, but I never got the guts to do it.”

“I ripped them off while they were still fragile,” Chino replied, recalling his eighteenth birthday, when he sprouted new wings and shed his old ones, and the same with his antennae. 

“Oh. The doctors didn't give me antennae because I didn't need them. I tried to argue, but maybe it's better if we both don't have them,” Kora said, like she was internally singing herself into a belief she wished for that was not true. “My wings are fragile. They said I'll possibly die if they break off.”

“I don't know. You're not a real hybrid,” Chino reminded her. 

“So, will you help me cut holes in my dress, or not?” She was clearly changing was subject. 

“I want to accept you first.”

“It doesn't work that way,” Kora uttered softly. “You have to. It's my favorite dress.”

“It doesn't matter. You aren't a hybrid,” Chino argued, as she fluttered her wings, showing off. The surgery had made her egotistical. 

“I am! I am a real hybrid now!” Kora boomed, and he flinched at the volume of her voice. 

The sudden fear made him shout back. “You aren't!” 

“Look. My wings,” Kora stood up in front of him and pushed her wings to fill his vision. “You can't deny it.”

Chino noticed how bitter he was becoming. She never spoke so much, about anything, all until now that her confidence was so high. She acted like he absolutely cherished her as a hybrid, perhaps saw her as an idol, when he did not. And all the talk about sex was questionable. It was like she immediately wanted to fuck him to see what would happen. She changed completely.

“Are you looking?”

“I've seen it the whole time,” Chino huffed. 

“You're pissed. I can tell,” Kora said, and spun around to meet his eyes. 

“I've known you for eleven years as a human.”

“You can know me for another eleven as a hybrid, and from there, we'll be perfect.”

“I liked you as a human. Why didn't you?”

Kora rolled her eyes. “Because my parents suck and you're way better than them. I want to live with you. Not them.”

“I can't stand it. You're acting like being a hybrid is the best thing ever, and it's not. I have the fear of being killed and preserved and put in a hybrid museum. I feel like I'm nothing but a tourist attraction,” Chino told her. She still did not seem fazed. “The possibility of that happening to you is higher. You don't have a tag by your ear, and no owner, so you're free to be killed.”

“Can your owner adopt me? I said I want to live with you,” Kora repeated. 

“Where will you fucking sleep? I doubt he'll adopt you. Ask your human parents,” Chino growled.

“I'll sleep on your bed!”

“Then where will I sleep?”

“With me!”

Chino leaned back on the bed with a long sigh. “It's not happening. You aren't a real hybrid anyway.”

Kora stomped her foot like a little girl would when she threw a tantrum. “Come and cut holes in my dress, Camilo.”

“Shut up,” Chino grumbled, stifling a laugh. 

“No. I'm not playing. I know you must think I'm crazy, but I'm a real hybrid now. You have to accept that. It's not a choice,” Kora argued. She reached for the glass of water on his dresser, and took a sip.

“You weren't born that way, so you aren't a hybrid.” Chino sat up. “You're only desperate to be like me because your self-esteem is too low. You want to be my species because you can't accept the fact you're not.”

“Chino, there is nothing you can do about this, except understand that I'm now a hybrid!” Kora howled, and her arm was pulled back like a bow's string, and she sent the glass of water flying to her friend's head. His clothes were darkened,  dampened, and when the glass bounced off of his head into shards, he pressed the heel of his hand against his injury. Blood trickled down his cheek. 

He stood up, and with squinted eyes, he gazed at the abstract pieces that were scattered across his soaked blankets. 

Regret poured into Kora's entire bloodstream. She tried to grab his shoulder, but he flinched back. “I'm sorry.”

Everything happening at once angered Chino even more. There was broken glass he had to clean, a blanket to replace. A huge change to come to terms with. His own head to treat. An apology to somehow accept.

Kora could feel his growing fury radiating from his frame. She took a step back, and just as she heard the front door open from downstairs, he pushed her to the floor. There was a subtle voice she recognized. Her father's.

“My dad is here—” She could not even finished her sentence. Chino jumped onto her, using all of his strength to roll her over. “What are you doing?!”

With a voice full of pain, the fly rasped, “I'm through.”

Kora's stomach was flat against the floor. “I said I'm sorry! Let me go so I can apologize the right way!”

Chino's hands wrapped around the openings of her wings. “No, I don't care you're sorry! You're a completely different person to me, and I'm through!”

“You didn't even give me a chance!” Kora whined, then when her wings were pulled, she let out a piercing scream that only made him pull harder. 

Through her screams, Chino heard pounding footsteps rushing upstairs, and the anticipation made his heart race, made him strong. Strong enough to make blood spurt out of her back, and rip her wings off. She shrieked gibberish words, crying for help, for her father. 

The door was thrown open and her father darted inside. If his size was not already threatening, he tore a gun from his waist and pointed it right at Chino's head.

“Daddy, don't shoot,” Kora sobbed calmly. “Chino, just let go of me...”

Chino crawled off of her, set the two wings on the floor cautiously, his fearful stare fixed on her father as he rose to his feet.

“Don't kill him,” Kora whimpered as her father lowered the gun and placed it onto the floor. He began to step over to her friend, intimidating. 

“I knew from the start you were going to be a problem. If you touch her again, you're fucking gone,” he growled. “You know how much fucking money I spent on her surgery? Why the hell did you do that to my daughter?”

Chino said nothing, feeling so small, so Kora spoke for him. “He didn't want to accept me.”

Her father's voice amplified. “So instead of getting used to her change, you decided to rip off her wings, that I spend thousands on? So you could get away with dealing with it because you knew it was going to make a problem in your life? You're a selfish son of a bitch. The night I saw you smoking I knew I should've ended your friendship with her. You're clearly a horrible influence on her—”

“Daddy, stop—”

“—and you know how much she looked up to you? For you to do this knowing that, it's fucked up. You ruined her life from here. You're a fucking asshole and I'm done with you and I hope you kill yourself. Expect the cops to be here in minutes, because you're killing her.”

Chino trembled as he watched him walk out of the door, slamming it behind him. His knees hit the ground and he shuffled over to the gun.

“I'm sorry,” he stammered. “For everything.”

Kora sat up despite the blood spilling from her back. “Stop. You've always been nice. He doesn't know what he's talking about.”

The pain in her words shattered his heart. Nothing she said meant anything to him when she said it like that. His breaths came shakily from his lips as he ran a thumb over the black weapon beneath him. 

Kora understood his stress, and how that could leave him feeling clueless on what to do, which was perhaps why he was touching the gun. Not listening to her. Thinking about the many things he could do with it behind his foremost thoughts. 

“Don't listen to him. He's mean,” she said.

Chino handed the gun over to her. “End my life,” he whispered.

“No!” Kora's whisper was almost a squeak. 

“Kora,” Chino puffed, and met her dark eyes. “We've known each other for eleven years. You became my entire life. I expected you to come over every night in our teen years, but when I started to love you, I wanted you every night. And I know you wanted to see me every night, too.”

Kora nodded, beginning to sob again. Everything he said was true.

“I feel like shit knowing how long you loved me, just for me to do this. Instead of waiting for myself to accept you. You know I love you. I loved the life we had together, and would love the future even more, but for now, we have to say goodbye,” Chino told her, calming down.

“I love you, too,” Kora cried. “I don't want to kill you.”

“I can't live with this memory. I don't want to remember myself like this. I ruined your life, and your father hates me, and he'll separate us once and for all.   I can't live without you. You're a part of me that I adore. And now the police are after me. Before I go, I want to tell you everything I've wanted to for a while, so you remember me with love instead of hate.”

Kora picked up the gun. “I can't kill you. I forgive you.”

Chino took the gun from her. “Then don't kill me. I'm a problem in everybody's life, and getting rid of me will fix that, but you love me, and I don't want you to cry.”

Kora wiped away her tears and reached for him. He hugged her back, and did not pull away. She could feel his fear. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I'm fine,” Chino croaked. And the silence of their affection was interrupted by the sound of the stairs creaking. He pulled away with a sigh, knowing that by the intensity of it, it was someone big, and the only big person in the house was her father. His hand crawled almost involuntarily to the gun.

Kora whispered, “Don't,” right before her father opened the door.

He kicked Chino softly enough to push him slightly, then he took him by the shirt, and tossed him across the room. “Stay the fuck away from her,” he growled.

Kora gasped and glanced at him, making sure to not look for too long. Her father had gauze in his hand, so she understood she was supposed to be healed. Hopefully, he was not looking forward to give Chino another evil lecture. 

But he remained there, on his side, his face looking as lifeless as a cadaver, empty. Like he had expected this, and was realizing it was happening. Or he was just too smart enough to know that fighting back was a stupid idea, and doing nothing was best. Kora knew how intelligent he was. 

Her dress was slipped on by her father. There was now an ugly bulge on her back where the gauze pad was set, but it was better than having blood seep through and stain her favorite, dull rose dress. Perhaps Chino could feel more comfortable now that she was dressed, but when she glanced back at him, he still  had the heart wrenching visage of a terrible guilt.

At that point, Chino was only counting down the minutes for the cops to come and arrest him. He had heard brutal stories of the hybrid prison, and it was the last place he wanted to go, so he would rather be in Heaven. His temple was still bleeding, being such a weak spot, but he would leave this room soon anyhow, that blood on the floor would not be a major issue. All he cared about was Kora, and how she would feel without him. Perhaps she would feel happy, but he was not paranoid. He understood if she hated him.

“Kora, let's go home. Now. No excuses.”

“Okay.” The girl looked back at him sympathetically. “Bye, Chino.”

Chino's smile was soft, a mask to cover all of his gloomy thoughts. He wished he did so much more but so much less with her.  “Bye.”

When the door shut and they were gone, his smile faded. All of this because he somehow lost his mind and thought it was a good idea to rip off her limbs, real or not. Who knew why her father came in in the first place, probably to check on her, to chat with his parents; he did not care at all. Not anymore. If he did not act like such an idiot they could have been kissing right now. Instead he was on the floor, and she was going home. Nothing he could do could change a thing; the cops were on their way, and Kora's wings were gone, and all of that money meant nothing at all. It was a waste, something it would not be if he was sane. 

Their love for each other was confessed too late. Perhaps they could have already fucked at least twice. Kissed at least thrice. But instead, it was considered just before an argument that left them in a mess. He hated that. If her father even would still let them hang out by then, in months or years when he would be out of prison, perhaps they could start over. He did not see that coming.

But the sirens grew loud enough, close enough to hear from his bedroom window. This was the last minute he had to himself in his room. 

And with it, he prayed to God, for strength.

Notes:

new main character guys !!1!1!!!!! but claudio is still primary

Chapter 16: Chapter 14: The Butterfly Effect

Notes:

SORRY FOR 1-2 MONTH HIATUS, I NEEDED A BREAK, MY WRITING QUALITY WAS DETERIORIATING >_<

(also sorry for cliffhanger LOL)

He could have slept through that announcement, but he was awake almost all night, expecting it. Kinder would die, or him, he knew it. All night he heard them talk about it. There was a hope in a sick corner of his mind that Micah would die. He would even volunteer to help with the execution. 

One would think there would be fewer hybrids that sprung into the hallway, but it seemed every one of them came out at once. All of them appeared tired as they sluggishly dragged themselves across the hall with eyes half shut. It turned out he was not the only one who got little to no sleep. 

Kinder sighed and stretched. “Ugh, I don't even have time to do my makeup and my hair.”

Claudio brushed her caramel hair out with his shaky fingers, trying his hardest to be gentle. “I think you look pretty either way.”

Kinder turned to give him a loving kiss. “You're so sweet,” she said fondly, and observed his exhausted expression. “When did you wake up?”

“I have been awake for hours after my dream,” Claudio answered. The dream was hours ago. He woke up, woke up Kinder, and told her about it. Then she went back to sleep somehow, like it was not important. The moment he had remembered the announcement, the voices swallowed him whole, and he was suddenly too paranoid to sleep. At least he had gotten the rest he needed after such an intense wave of orgasmic pleasure, and he was glad Kinder had the same.

The butterfly crawled out of the room. “Let's go, and hope it will all turn out okay.”

Claudio followed her, and could feel the lack of sleep he had as he weakly walked behind her. They were soon lost in the middle of a crowd of hybrids, big and small, short and tall, holding hands. Everybody looked at each other like it was their last time seeing them, though it probably was. But Claudio was fixed on the fact Kinder was going to die, so he focused on every part of her hand, to feel each wrinkle, each crease, each crevice in her skin all before they had to let go. 

All hybrids were forced to sit along the wall, and all Aggressive hybrids were to sit on the lunch benches, from tables that were moved to form a line. Claudio sat in between Travis, and of course, Kinder. Kinder was beside a face he did not know. 

Kinder was about to reach for his collar, but only touched his bare neck. He winced and looked at her, his face the definition of the word on her thigh. She adored that look. It returned her the memories of the previous night. 

“Pay attention,” she stammered, not allowing herself to become lost on his gaze, when romance was not important at the time.

“Forget I lost the privilege to have a collar?” Claudio teased.

Kinder hissed at him to quiet down. “It doesn't matter right now, someone's life is about to end.”

At this point, all hybrids were seated, and when Nicole came in with two unfamiliar hybrids — or people — a girl and boy, behind her back, the volume lowered until there was silence. All employees were here, standing on the opposite side of the Aggressives.

“Attention,” Nicole began with a loud voice that stretched through the entire cafeteria. “We have a new Aggressive hybrid arriving here. His name is Chino, and he is a fly hybrid. Usually, we do not have huge meetings when a hybrid comes, but as you might know, we have no room left. An important decision will be made. Sharon will draw a random name from a bowl and whoever that is picked will be executed. Good luck to each one of you.”

Everybody stared at Chino like they wanted to kill him. 

“Why not kill me instead?” he asked, but Kora, who was the second hybrid, or, well, human, tugged him lightly, a signal for him to be quiet. 

Sharon dug her hand into the bowl of small, folded pieces of paper. When she took her hand out and unfolded the white death sentence, her eyes locked into a hybrid with an attractive appearance, who acted so much like a whore sometimes, who was somebody Claudio knew very well. 

And the hybrid had bright green hair.

Claudio's heart shattered in pieces, something he would never expect to happen. Kinder fought his strength to pull him, but he stood up and ripped away from her. He desperately tried to ignore Felicity walking towards him, cuffs in hand. 

Micah was already stepping towards the front, wanting to cry, acknowledging the fact his son, his son that he tortured for years, was coming up to fight their decision. And wanting to cry because all of his selfish goals would never be fulfilled.  

Claudio hugged him tightly, startling him.

Micah kissed him on his head and hugged him back. “I hurt you with things that can't be forgiven, chéri. Let me go. Your life will be so much better.”

“No. Momma's already gone, I can't lose you,” Claudio whimpered. 

“I ruined your life. You have to leave me. It won't hurt as badly as it did with her.”

“If you die, then I'm going to kill myself. For real this time! I can't lose you.” 

Micah made an attempt to rip away from his embrace. “Let go. I'm sorry, but you need to let go.”

“No!” Claudio shouted, the sound muffled in his father's collarbone. He felt loved for the first time by him as soon as there was a hand on his back. “Papa... I love you.”

The name made Micah cry immediately. He had not heard it since Claudio was a child. “I love you, too, Claudio. I'm sorry for everything. Especially for shooting Momma. And for giving you an unhealthy amount of pills because I was jealous you could feel affection... I always just felt lust, never love, and I hated you so much for that that I just sickened you with those pills. I'm so sorry. You don't deserve this illness. You deserve Kinder. You love her, I know it. Now leave me and sit with her.” He pulled away and uncoiled a blond strand of Claudio's hair. “You're a good boy, you know exactly how to love, despite having me as such a terrible father. Now go.”

Claudio could feel Felicity's hands on his shoulders, and could hear her soothing voice ordering for him to follow her. A numbness took over his entire being, as he accepted the fact his father was going to be killed. Perhaps in front of him. 

Kinder's hand was over her mouth as she watched Claudio leave the room with Felicity, so heartbroken. How could they not change their minds about that decision? 

She felt obliged to speak up by her inner thoughts. “You can't do that.”

Nicole cocked her head and folded her arms. “It would not be fair to spare him if we cannot spare others.”

“You don't know Claudio at all! He'll try everything to end his life. And the last thing he needs is a hallucination of his dead father who abused him for years!” Kinder protested, standing up. 

Micah looked at her, his eyes assuring and warm. “Don't try. I can take this.”

Kinder stared at him like he was an idiot. “Well, your son can't. He needs you, even if you hurt him countless times. You're his father.”

Sharon chimed in. “Claudio will eventually stop grieving one day. He'll be okay.”

Kinder balled her fingers into fists. “No, he will not. He's been grieving over his mother who has been dead for nine years. And I don't see him getting over that in two years, even more.”

“Sit down, Kinder. I'll get the crowd's opinion,” Sharon demanded of the butterfly, then her eyes scrolled through the crowd. “So, who votes to do another drawing?”

Most hands went up. Micah had an arrogant smirk on his face. 

Sharon fished out another slip of paper from the clear, glass bowl. “Micah, go sit,” she ordered, and finally looked at the name in her hand. “Elias.”

The lion hybrid let out an angry snarl and everybody flinched. It seemed nobody liked him anyhow. There was no protest, and that angered him more.

Micah felt threatened when his furious, blue gaze met his, so he dug an excuse from the forefront of his mind to leave. “May I go speak with Claudio?”

“Yes, you may try to if Felicity allows you to,” Nicole said. And Micah immediately walked out of the cafeteria, the lion's
blue eyes like water burning into his back like fire. 

In the nurse's office, Felicity was already making attempts to soothe Claudio, who soon started to cry, coming to terms with the fact he was going to lose the other half of the reason he was alive.

His head was buried in the offwhite sheets of the hospital bed, and he was curled up like how he was in his beloved mother's womb, sobbing all of his tears out. The scenes replayed in his head like a film, and Momma stood there, heartbroken at a shot that left her heart broken, and killed her. Blood pooled around her in seconds when her body dropped to the floor, and as her lifeless cadaver slept there, Claudio watched her like she was an actress, in disbelief she was gone. But he was older now, delusional to the point everything was blurry, but he was older, more mature. And he understood that everything that had happened in the past, was real. And that he was going to experience it again, and he had to believe it.

They were going to execute Micah in front of him. Traumatize him again.

Micah could hear him crying from the outside of the doorway. And soon he remembered hearing him cry nine years ago, cowering at the leg of a coffee table, begging Micah not to take him home. He felt the first pang of sympathy since that time, understanding that he was almost about to be in Cambria's place. 

Felicity looked at Micah with eyes that pleaded for help when he walked in. 

“They decided to spare me. I don't know why, maybe it was because I'm attractive and fun to be around, or because they didn't want to deal with Claudio's bullshit. I get that,” the first dragonfly told her, his voice raised. “They picked Elias instead. He's pissed.”

Felicity slowly stood up. “Okay, well, do you want to tell your son that?”

Micah sat down next to Claudio. “Stop crying, chéri, they decided to spare me.”

He grabbed his son, who did not flinch at all, who perhaps was used to being touched by him so much. Something felt different, and Micah did not know if it was because Claudio was thinner, or it was because they were not home. He pulled him to his side, and hugged him by the waist. 

“I'm not going to die. They picked someone else,” he tried again. Felicity left the room by now, and they were both alone.

“Who?” Claudio demanded, trying his hardest to calm, because what if it was Kinder?

“Elias,” Micah replied.

Claudio hugged his father, and let his tears soak into his shirt. 

Micah cursed himself for the wave of desire that washed over him at the contact, that made him hold his son's waist tighter. And for some reason he was aroused by the sound of Claudio's whimpering and sobbing, and he hated that, for it was not the right time.

“I'm sorry, chéri,” he whispered.

“Why did you hurt me?” Claudio interrogated him, his voice thin, about to snap. 

“I don't know... You were a rude little kid at first, but then I just abused that power I had over you and I hated your mother so much that I just thought it was fun,” Micah admitted. “I wish you didn't love me. I didn't know how much I meant to you until today. And I understand that it hurts more because you love me. I'm so sorry.”

“I want to hate you but I don't want you to die,” Claudio sobbed.

Micah's desire became stronger by the second, beginning to take over him. He needed to think of an excuse to get himself off, his evil intentions revived. The first thing he did was rub Claudio's back, with knowledge that that was an area he loved most. An area that could gain his trust.

“I miss Momma,” Claudio whimpered, his eyes closed, cries slowing, tears falling silently.

Micah did not care. He despised that ladybug. Instead of showing sympathy, he changed the subject to get what he wanted. “Wanna lie down? You seem tired. How much sleep did you get?”

“About an hour,” Claudio replied, wiping tears as he shuffled his way to the opening of the blanket.

“Yeah, lie down. I'll come and cuddle you so you feel happy,” Micah said, inwardly laughing at his son's gullible foolishness.

“Am I not too old for that?” Claudio tucked himself in.

“Never too old. You'll always be my boy,” Micah answered, and took the corner of the blanket, throwing it away so he could crawl in. He wrapped his son in his arms after pulling the blanket over them. “You comfy?”

Claudio was in fact uncomfortable, but was unsure if it was his paranoia, so he lied, “Yes.”

“Good,” Micah smirked. “I love you.”

Claudio did not reply. He closed his eyes, already dozing off.

After a few seconds of an eager silence, Micah quickly and suddenly climbed on top of Claudio, startling him awake. He dug his erection into his crotch, rubbing him with his scent of arouse him, hopeless when his son started to writhe. 

Claudio gasped, anger quickly boiling inside. “The fuck!?— What are you—”

“Shh, it's okay. Hybrids do this all the time to bond with children,” Micah lied, his voice soft and gentle. “Pull your pants down. And don't tell a soul about this. You're not supposed to be having sex with your concussion.”

Claudio was on the verge of tears again. He thought he was free from this. Why could he not escape? A part of him knew he should disobey, but he exposed his lower body to his father, understanding the consequences he would face if he did not.

Micah rubbed his thighs to arouse him, but he lied there, staring at the ceiling. Not fighting. “Good job being so calm. You have to trust me, okay?”

A tear fell from Claudio's eye, and his voice was dry. “Just, please, don't hurt me.” 
 
Micah undid his belt, let his pants fall to his knees, and let out his hard dick. Claudio tensed under his hands, and for Micah, that was a signal he was ready, so he pushed himself inside of him.

For Claudio, that meant he was terrified, and internally, he prayed for Micah to understand that.

*****

Chino took her by the waist one last time, her hands on his collarbone, and they both tilted their heads to kiss before they parted. The kiss was long, full of love but mixed with fear, and they enjoyed it thoroughly, a moment they wish would never end.

Kora pulled away first. “I hope my dad isn't too mad.”

“He is. But that's alright.” Chino's voice was strangely gloomy.

“It's not. I know you're upset, but you need to have confidence. You can't act like everything is okay, because this is a tough situation to come to terms with. You need to face your problems and cope with what you did. You're in prison. Take a minute for that to sink in,” Kora lectured, eyes soft with care.

“I'm going to really miss you,” Chino said like he ignored everything she said, and Kora looked away, like she was guilty, responsible for that feeling.

“I'll miss you, too. But I have to go. One last hug?” 

Chino let her fall into his arms, ignorant of the length of the hug, distracted by what was about to come. What he was about to face in life, and what he was never going to face again.

Kora released herself. “Bye, Chino. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Kora. I'll see you in a few months,” Chino farewelled, his heart snapping and shattering into thousands of pieces as she pushed through the front doors, until they swallowed her up, and she was gone.

He knew he was supposed to go to the nurse's office for a checkup immediately after their farewells, but instead, he stood there in loss. Took in the fact he was here. Alone. In prison. Because he hurt the one he loved most. He felt like he deserved it.

There was an addition to his appearance that came with the truth. A black band around his wrist that he could not take off no matter what. That read the word “Aggressive”, that made him look violent. Well, was he? Was he not the sweet gentleman Kora thought of him to be?

But the nurse was impatient, so he turned to his left and entered a dimension of eyes turned to him in an angry blame. 

She forced him to sit on the same bed that Claudio was currently on. He was sure he did not even want to look at him, for he nearly killed his father. But the dragonfly's eyes were soulless, without a touch of emotion, and he was curled up, fingering the edge of the blanket perhaps to ease his mind, on the brink of sleep. Chino felt a pang of guilt.

“May I ask you some questions?” Felicity asked him.

“Sure,” Chino replied.

“Are you diagnosed with any physical or mental illness?”

“No.”

“Any allergies?”

“No.”

“Are you sexually active?”

Why would Chino tell her the truth? Why did they need to know? He was old enough to feel lust now, but what could they do with that information? Have sex with him? And plague him with diseases?He was too smart for this.

“No.”

“Really?” She must have understood his age.

“No, I'm not. Not this year.”

“Okay. Does your head hurt? I see you got into a fight.”

“I'll survive without any help. It's just a cut. I don't need stitches.”

Felicity nodded. “Okay. That's all I needed to know. Do you need help finding your room? You are Room #37.”

“I can find it myself,” Chino sighed, slowly standing up, feeling exhausted. His entire night was spent in a car that transported him from Sacramento to Los Angeles, and his sleep was inconsistent and filled with dread. Kora was beside him the entire time, almost leaning on his shoulder, sleeping better than he did even with her pain.

Claudio stared at the hybrid, searching for signs of hostility. But they met eyes, and he looked away immediately, like the fly was a male interpretation of Medusa.

Chino did not break the interaction. “I'm sorry.”

Claudio's guilt aligned with his, and he clutched the blanket tighter, feeling stupid. 

Felicity grabbed the fly's shoulder. “Leave him alone for now. He needs sleep.”

Claudio spoke up, his voice raspy with tiredness. “I want to sleep with Kinder. Why won't you let me see her?”

“I can't trust you to 'sleep' with her,” Felicity said. “I can tell her to visit you occasionally because you miss her. But you have to stay here. No excuses.”

“Will you do that, please?” Claudio asked, and was cursed by an unknown voice that called him needy. Perhaps it was right. He was needy. He did not deserve this. He did not deserve Kinder. Until he would learn how to rely on himself.

“Yes,” Felicity agreed, and turned to Chino, before telling him, “Follow me. I'll tour you. It won't take long; this place isn't too big.”

Claudio wished she had said no. 

His eyes circled the room. There was almost nobody here, beside a hybrid he did not know, and somebody hidden in the padded cell in the back of the room. He was almost alone, at last. How could he end his life? He sat up to look around, head fuzzy.

Inside of his mind he listed many ways he could die. He could strangle himself with his collar, but the location of the leather piece was a mystery. Cutting himself open would take too long for his skill, though he knew there were sharp objects in here. Bashing his head against a wall would only worsen his condition and damage his brain chronically with his level of strength. But he could drown. 

The thought made him crawl out of bed. Voices spun around him, sounding creepier than ever now, encouraging him to turn on the sink and let the murky water flow. Nothing looked normal. Nothing sounded normal. The water did not feel normal; it felt too wet, at least that would be how Claudio would word it. 

The sink was filling as seconds passed. It was now halfway full, but not full enough to fit his entire head in. He prayed Felicity would take long on the tour with the new hybrid. But he seemed too independent, and that only made things shorter, because he clearly had better things to do, even if it was just sitting in his room and thinking. Claudio hoped he would prolong the tour out of boredom. 

Tap water filled rapidly, for the faucet was like a hose. He looked behind; the other hybrid here was probably sleeping.  And Felicity's voice was nonexistent, so she was far. It would only be another minute until the sink was full, and he could finally die. Experience a death through solitarily drowning he would not be alive to recall. 

At last, the sink was like a swimming pool, filled to the brim, with the overhead light shining the water like warm sunlight though the cracks of Claudio's shadow, waiting to consume his skin, to cool him forever.

He pushed the faucet away with the heel of his hand and bobbed for the poisonous apples death grew for him, holding his breath, planning to run out and inhale the water unexpectedly. It would kill him quicker. At least he hoped.

Less than twenty seconds, and he was drowning. His throat burned, his lungs were eating water the same way a parasite ate through a dead insect. 

And suddenly he was breathing, but coughing, through fresh air. 

“Felicity, come to your office now. A hybrid has attempted suicide.”

All Claudio could feel was anger, but he was too weak to fight her if he wanted to. He figured he must have been caught on the cameras. Why could they not let him die? It was the only thing he wanted to finally be free. 

“Why?” he rasped desperately, pushed to the bed, gasping for breath.

“Quiet,” Nicole hissed, beginning to drain the water down the drain as Claudio coughed up water. 

Kinder burst into the room, breaths heavy like she had just run a marathon in the hallway. She raced over to her boyfriend, her hand falling onto his shoulder. “I knew it was you. I knew it. Why? Claudio, why?”

Claudio fought for his breath in a battle with tap water. “Micah...”

Kinder sat down beside him. “What happened?”

Claudio was hesitant. “He... Raped me... Again.”

Kinder hugged him on the side, loosely enough he could still cough. “I'm so sorry, baby. We can talk about it later if you want. Get it off your chest. But please...”

Just when Nicole left, Claudio leapt to the sink and stood over it, his fingers clenching his chest.

“Are you okay?” Kinder asked, then stretched her arms, patiently waiting for him to fall back into her arms. 

“I'm fine,” Claudio grumbled, wiping his lips. He continued to stand there, though, occasionally coughing dryly. His elbows hit the counter and he watched the water from his insides swirled down the drain. 

He was so messed up, but it was so easy to lie to her.

Kinder stepped up behind him; he saw it from the corner of his eyes in the mirror. “Was it always like this when he did that?”

“No, but this time was different,” Claudio stammered. “It was worse.”

Kinder's forearm collided with his waist. “What did he do that made it worse?”

The memory was enough to bring tears to Claudio's eyes, and he covered his face. 

“Tell me.”

“My head hurts...”

“What did he do, Claudio? What happened?” Kinder said, and then she saw Felicity walk in, but she dismissed her. 

“He made me cum,” Claudio sobbed.

Felicity gasped and jumped over to him. “Who?”

“Micah,” Claudio replied, his voice dying with his crying.

“When did he do this?” Felicity asked softly. 

“When we were all alone and everybody was in the cafeteria,” Claudio answered, wiping his tears.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No. But my head hurts and I want to go to bed.”

Felicity pushed him away from the sink, signaling him to move. She could tell he did not want to talk about it. “Okay. But you're not allowed to be alone. Do you want to sleep in Kinder's room? And I want to talk to you next morning.”

“Why can't I be alone?” Claudio bleated desperately.

“You know why. Think of what just happened the second we left the room.”

“I was not alone.”

“Yeah, well, the other hybrid in here was asleep. Now come here. You had a long, hard day and you deserve to go to bed early,” Felicity said. She checked to see if Kinder was following her before she added, “What do you want to eat?”

“I'm not hungry,” Claudio lied. When was the last time he ate anyhow?

“Claudio, there was no breakfast today. And you barely ate lunch because you were anxious. I'm not sure you even ate much yesterday. Come on, you need something in your stomach before you go to bed. You're hungry.”

“No wonder you're so grumpy,” Kinder joked, and Claudio glared at her from the side, his piercing, somewhat intimidating, dark eyes making her giggle in admiration. “You know, I find your eyes adorable, so don't try.”

Claudio was at a loss with her. 

Felicity paused a rising conversation. “Claudio, what do you want to eat? Don't be like your brother. He needed smaller portions because he was so used to not eating.”

“I don't care. I don't want to eat.”

Felicity despised his attitude. “You need to eat. Do you want a granola bar? We have fresh strawberries, too.”

“Are we out of mango slices? I loved those.” Kinder asked, disappointed.

“Unfortunately, yes. And please, Kinder, he needs to rest his concussion, so please don't do anything with him.”

“I won't. I promise,” Kinder vowed.

Claudio begged internally she would not fuck him. A break was needed after what happened with Micah. Besides, he was too tired to deal with the excitement that came with arousal. There was no way to handle Kinder's bubbly passion for love, and how energized she would be when Claudio accidentally seduced her just by being his deranged, somehow, weirdly, attractive self. 

Was there something about his peculiar personality? His spooky, dark eyes? His edgy fashion sense that seemed to line up with hers? Or was she pretending to love him like Cassiopeia, because she felt sorry, or because she was lustful and she missed the porn industry? What if he was just her sex toy?

What if he was just her sex toy that she mothered to please herself?

Felicity noticed his typical dreamy stare. “Claudio? You're spacing out.”

“I'm—I'm sorry,” the dragonfly stammered. 

“What do you want to eat? I'll bring it to you. Tell me what you're craving,” Felicity pressed.

“Just get me anything.”

No wonder you're fat.

Don't eat it.

Claudio looked up from his boots with dread in his eyes. Kinder's room was ahead. He wished he did not need to eat, for he was so tired and desired sleep, but the voices were starving him, and he was getting noticeably thin, despite what the voices said. But were they right? Was he hallucinating his weight? 

Out of the blue, Kinder gasped, her gaze to the right, and softly giggled, “Ooh, drama.” 

 Claudio had to look. A strong, giant polar bear hybrid was intimidating the new hybrid, claiming he killed his friend. For some reason he did not care. Kinder could care, he did not mind, but he wanted to eat and sleep.

But when the bear raised a hand twice the size of the fly's head, Felicity charged after him, and Claudio ducked beneath the ceiling of Kinder's cubicle, and watched. 

Kinder slowly copied his actions. “That is not safe for her. I say he should accept his fate and let Ezekiel kill him,” she whispered when she was down to his level.

Chino was beyond terrified. The worst part was that he did everything to himself, and it bothered him. All he had to do was accept Kora's change, and none of this would have ever happened. All he had to do was cool himself down before ripping off her wings. At this point he was okay with being hurt, being blamed for the execution he was forced to watch.

Ezekiel turned to Felicity threateningly. “Don't protect a murderer!” he growled, and pushed her back, so powerful he sent her to the floor. 

“He is not a murderer! Get in your room or you will be punished!” Felicity argued, lifting himself to her knees.

“Don't lie. He killed my friend!” Ezekiel's voice was like a lion's roar, like his best friend's ancestors' call. “If he didn't need to come, Elias wouldn't have died!”

“To your room! Leave him alone!”

“Don't defend a murderer!” Ezekiel screamed, and kicked her frail, woman body, stunned her.

Kinder hid behind Claudio, a hand over her mouth. 

Claudio watched like the scene like it was a violent movie, listened to Felicity groan and attempt to form words through pain. The polar bear picked her up, and she fought, mercilessly kicked, so fragile in comparison to him.

Then, he thrust her above his head, and threw her to the ground. She cried out in agony, the sound echoing through the hall. Kinder and Claudio ducked away inside the cubicle to protect themselves.

The butterfly stared at the curtain in shock for a few seconds, but eventually turned to Claudio with a smirk. “Sooo...”

The dragonfly's antennae perked, letting her continue.

“Let's fuck? Need to get my mind off of this.”

He could only sigh at the question. 

It was like everything was her fault.

Chapter 17: Chapter 15: Body

Notes:

just a disclaimer:

i do not support any themes in this fic (and the other one), i just like to write abt disturbing sht. (incest, rape, child abuse, etc..)

chapters taking longer because im more busy and trying to improve writing.

Down he glared at that peculiar frame of his with a heavy feeling of contempt as the scalding water from the showerhead rained on him. Round beads of water rolled down his uncomfortable skin to prove its unpleasant reality. His hand reached unwillingly for the bottle of body wash, his thumb popped the cap, and he poured the gooey substance all over a cloth. The point of this could have made him sigh. It was all futile in the end to even make an effort to clean himself when he was going to dirtied again right after. At least the water was hot, and nobody could see him within such a secluded place. It felt delightful to be alone. To be naked alone.

Sadly, that feeling, that place of such inexpressible joy, would not last forever. It started to be difficult to find pleasure. Sex was getting boring and repetitive. Nobody cared about him except for the nurse that was currently in the hospital. Trust was breaking between he and Kinder, which was his fault, though for some odd reason he felt no remorse for his trust issues. 

The thought of death and afterlife began to creep over him as he rinsed his hair. He was not religious, but somehow he desired the feeling of thousands of dragonflies swarming around him, filling him with peace. The feeling of bathing in a steamy pond with the sweet scent of water lilies. The feeling of having everything he had ever dreamed for—happiness. Something that was exclusive in the realm of the hybrid afterlife.

It seemed death was the only way out.

The only way to be with his mother.

When he was finished with his shower, he turned the knob to let the water stop spilling onto his repulsive being. He then stood there with dread.

He was not alone anymore.

Micah was behind the thick curtain, giving him the company that he did not want, but company he needed. Behind the mirror, he trimmed his neon hair carefully. He paid no attention to his son, and that was a good thing. 

So Claudio stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a ragged towel, trapped himself in warmth. He could feel his father's gaze in his reflection, could understand he was finally being acknowledged. Before the situation worsened, he snatched his clothes from the floor.

Micah set down the scissors. “No. Come here.”

Claudio's antennae fell over his head steadily, and he sauntered over to his father grudgingly. 

The older dragonfly guided his son, whose head was hung, in front of him. With a touch that was less gentle than intended, he raised his son's chin so he faced forward. Then, he uttered, “Your hair has gotten a bit overgrown.”

Claudio's lips barely even twitched as Micah began to snip a few centimeters of his brown locks off. Speaking was even risky near Micah; he never knew what he would be punished for. He watched himself in the mirror like a movie with horrible acting, his face slowly distorting the longer he stared. His surroundings became more unclear and frightening.

Micah placed the scissors on the counter and put a hand on his son's hip, excited when he winced at it. His other hand played with his hair. “You look better now.”

“May I get dressed?” Claudio stammered softly, his stare finally snapping.

“I guess,” Micah sighed disappointedly. “What a shame. I've started to admire your body now that you've lost weight.”

“Papa, why do you love me?” Claudio asked as the towel fell to his ankles.

“Because you're my son?” Micah was puzzled by the question, but knew he had to be patient with someone like him.

“That's not what I meant.”

Micah padded over to his son, a couple feet apart now. “So what did you mean?” 

Claudio slipped on his slim pants and started to button his casual black shirt. “Love is a strong word. Why do you treat me like you love me in a romantic way? And in sexual ways.”

“Because that's what hybrids do,” Micah replied dubiously. 

“I'm not an idiot. You didn't do this to Sam, did you? Darlene? Chester? So am I just the 'favorite'?” Claudio's voice was a little more bitter.

“Well, you're my only dragonfly, so it makes sense for you to be my favorite,” Micah smiled.

“You gave me this illness! You killed my mother in front of me! You drugged me when I felt happy! You hurt me and raped me countless times! Love is a strong word, but so is hate!” Claudio spat, and to his surprise, his father flinched.

Micah was shocked, so stunned he could not form words.

“You're just sad because you're lonely, your family fell apart, and all of your selfish fucking dreams are hopeless because you're here. And it's your own fault! And because you're so sad about yourself, you pretend to love me to make me feel as bad as you do!”

Micah's hand was over his mouth. “You don't understand. I'm not doing wrong when we make love—”

“Make what?” Claudio sounded disgusted. “Neither one of us feels love when you rape me.”

“I wouldn't call it rape.”

“I didn't ask for it! That's rape!”

“Last time you gave in and told me just to not hurt you. And you came for the first time with me. That's love.”

“You would beat me until I passed out if I said no! And I'm concussed! It was either you fuck me or I die! I'd rather live than be killed by you!” Claudio huffed, shaking with anger. He sighed heavily then continued, “And you pleased my body, not me.”

A soft but ignorant smile was painted on Micah's face, its deceit caged in a translucent veneer of sweetness. With that fake expression, he said placidly, “And I love your body. It's what makes you, you. Without a body, what would you be?”

Claudio hesitated as fury steamed from his body. “Decapitated,” he replied.

“That's the wrong answer. You'd be nothing.”

“How is that the wrong answer?! Being decapitated means my head would be cut off, separated from my body! If I was nothing, if my head was nothing, then all my thoughts and feelings would be nothing, too! You're pretty much decapitating me with your words, because what you're saying is that you love me for my body and just that!” 

Micah looked to the floor, defeated. Like his ego had finally been shattered, and all strength to get back at him like he had been doing for years was finally gone. He took a step closer to the door.

“Sadly, I thought you were dumb,” he muttered, then left.

Claudio ran his hands over his face slowly, a long sigh slipping out through the action. Irritation flooded his veins, head, his entire being. But aside from that emotion, he also felt pride; he had finally won an argument against Micah. It was something that had never occurred before in his life.

“Fucking dumbass, what does he assume I think with, my dick?” he growled into the air, then let the silence surround him for a little too long.

Time was ticking, though, and soon he had to get out of here before other hybrids were infuriated. So he threw his towel in a pile of other dirty towels.  Before he left, he focused on his hair in the mirror one last time, studying each detail that Micah put in, satisfied with the effort.

He did not bother to clean up a couple things, so he left. The janitor could do that. As soon as he closed the door, he looked to his left, and the curtain in Kinder's room was shifted. He rolled his eyes and crept into the cubicle.

Kinder's eyes lit up with admiration at the sight of him, but a light worry was buried in them. “You're back.”

“Obviously,” Claudio mumbled and lazily hugged her on his knees.

“Oh no. You have an attitude,” Kinder gasped, pulling away from the hug. Her eyes went into his like a key would go into a lock. “What did Micah do?”

Claudio snapped the eye contact in a sudden frustration. “We had a big fight. He was pointing out how I lost weight and saying he loves my body, and that I'm good for just my body,” he replied, almost entirely through gritted teeth. A breath slipped from his lips, cooling him off. “He didn't hurt me. He didn't even touch me.”

Kinder nodded. “I could hear the shouting, but it was hard to make out the words,” she said. There was a peculiar silence and she filled it with her arms around him again. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Claudio grumbled, then squeezed her tightly. “Feeling as horrible as always, but I'm used to it. I'm fine.”

Kinder played with his wet hair lovingly. “I know. This week has been a little stressful for you...” Gradually, a smirk grew on her lips. “I hope our, you know, fun times has helped keep it low.”

Claudio did not smile back. Sex was getting as boring as staring at the walls, but it was hard to confess that to a girl like Kinder. 

Thoughts of the earlier circumstance flew back to him. What if Kinder only loved him for his body? She had to. Loving a schizophrenic boy with no idea how to help himself was the most ridiculous thing ever. It was stupid.

Still his eyes remained into nothingness, and he allowed the butterfly's delicate fingers to circle his back, to soothe him. He figured he would ask the same question he did Micah.

“Kinder, do you find my body attractive?”

Kinder paused her motions. “Of course.”

Claudio did not feel uplifted. “What if I wasn't attractive?”

“Hm.”

“What do you mean by that?” Claudio asked questionably, although he expected the answer. The pain was present, but it was unable to be felt, to be precieved by his numb brain. “What if I didn't touch myself that night?”

“I was drawn to your sounds. I don't know. I guess I still wouldn't pay attention to you,” Kinder replied.

“Why do you love me?” Claudio asked, and his lover's body became like fire for a split second. His antenna twitched with alarm.

Kinder swallowed dryly. “You're cute.”

“What's so cute about me? I'm insane,” Claudio's voice slightly shook.

“Everything. Especially your voice and the sounds you make when I please you—”

“Dear God, is sex all you think about?” The dragonfly pulled away as he snapped it.

Kinder's eyes went as wide as a baby deer's. She reached for him, but he could not sink into her untrustworthy embrace. “Well, no. J-just let me finish.”

Claudio sighed.

“You look cute when— Just everything, okay? You always look cute,” Kinder beamed, though internally, she was having images of him under her, whimpering, writhing, heavily breathing, begging for more. She was too ashamed. He was right; his mentality was not cute at all. She fell in love watching him stray him from his suffering, watching him delight himself with his own hands. 

She was taken on a journey to his notebook. He wanted to be raped because he was so unloved. So unloved even by himself. It hurt to know he hated himself so much he wanted to be raped, because it would trick him into thinking he was special. 

Claudio's body suddenly felt uncomfortable, unsafe, and unclean. Dread washed over him like a quick tsunami.

“Claudio, I love you... Stop looking so sad,” Kinder pouted.

“Be careful with that word...” Claudio whimpered, close to tears as he realized what was happening to him. Realized how much of an idiot he had been for not seeing it earlier.

“I mean it!” Kinder pressed, grabbing his hands urgently. “Claud, stop... I love you. I love you... I don't know what else to say... Just please believe me.”

Claudio felt as if he was handling a virus. “You only love me for sex. You're just horny. Every time something goes wrong you're horny. Every time something goes right you're horny. I'm...” A shaky breath of anger was drawn in, and out came the same emotion through his teeth. “I'm nothing but your fucking sex doll.”

“Stop, that's not—”

“I feel so stupid because this whole time I thought you genuinely loved me!” Claudio's hands were over his face as she began to cry. “You're so heartless to hurt somebody like me! You're... so...”

As his sobbing conquered his speech, Kinder stared at him with guilt. It was hard to deny everything, because now that he mentioned it, she noticed he was right. They never really loved each other; they were horny. Especially her. And she was immature enough to let herself fall in love with an adolescent dragonfly boy who was still exploring his body and emotions. She felt stupid like him. Stupid because she thought she loved him, too. 

Her hands almost cupped onto his arms, but she stopped herself from touching his young body.

Claudio quieted until he could speak again. “I'm still a boy...”

Kinder sighed. “I know. You're right... I was stupid to think I loved you, too...”

“I... I hate you...” Claudio sobbed, his lungs nearly imploding with sadness. 

Surprisingly, Kinder was not offended. In fact, she adored those words. She deserved them. “I'm sorry, Claud. We could still be friends, if what you're saying is that you want to break up. I loved being with you, but I guess you're right... Sex was heavily involved in our relationship. Or we could start over... I don't know. You're really young...”

Claudio wiped his wet eyes. “I want a break from you, if that's okay... It's hard to forgive you right now. I want some time to myself for a little while. I feel so used up and dirty...”

“That's alright,” Kinder said soullessly. “I still admire you, and I think you're more than the night I watched you masturbate, but I want what's best for you. I just want you to know that I care about you. I really do. So if you ever need to talk, you don't even need to knock. Just come right in.”

“I think all my problems are going to be centered around you for some time...” Claudio had a smile on his face as he uttered it, but his inability to express his feelings properly did not shock Kinder.

The butterfly nodded casually. “Want a hug before you leave?” Her eyes were charming.

Claudio let out a long sigh. “No... I'm going to my room... I want to think about this and forgiving you so we could be friends. Because I really admire you, too.”

Kinder smiled reassuringly. “Okay.”

However, the second he turned his back to depart, the tears were already rolling steadily and silently down her soft cheeks. It was the first time in a while she had ever cried this intensely. How badly had she messed up? She curled up in the corner of the cubicle and cried her eyes out.

Meanwhile, Claudio climbed into his room to put his boots on. And while he was in there, he flipped to the dirty page in his notebook where he had written his sexual fantasies, ripped it out, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it at the wall. Forget that. None of it was worth it. 

Now that he had his boots on, he jumped down to the floor of the hall and began his journey to the kitchen. It was time to prove to everybody he ever thought he loved who he really was. Eagerness spread through his body like a wildfire, and like the flames, he moved faster.

His fingers were already playing with the buttons on his shirt, fumbling to undo them. He had memorized which drawer owned the knifes, so that was where he went immediately. A sharp blade displayed its love for him, and he was drawn to that, and soon it was being hugged by his hands. 

Finally, his shirt was off, and the blade kissed his bare chest with its edge. It was not enough, though blood seeped out slowly. Each time the knife tasted him, he was even more infatuated, and he needed more of it. Red was soon the hue of his torso, and a loving pain was the soul of the color. 

Soon, he jerked down his pants to his ankles, and drew harsh marks on his thighs with his metal paintbrush. It was his favorite place to cut. Blood would pour out uncontrollably. Eventually, almost his entire legs were painted a romantic, deep crimson; the color of roses. A perfect flower to describe his love for harming himself.

But, like a heartbreak, the pain his cuts caused him began to crawl to his senses. Moving a leg was insufferable, his chest stung, and his arms seemed paralyzed. All he could do was bend himself in the fetal position on his side and whimper softly in pain as he eyed his least favorite color spill from his frail body. Despite everything, he shut his two, tired eyes, and let himself melt into the suffering.

 A startling sound rose him from his trance, but he did not want to face it, for it hurt to turn his body even slightly. It sounded like someone had opened the door, which was unfortunate. 

He winced at a cold hand that lifted his head, then suddenly he felt as if he was in a warm embrace when a familiar strip of leather collided with his bare neck. His collar. 

Four fingers slipped into the space between his neck and the collar, and Nicole's voice was audible. “I saw you on the cameras.”

“Mm,” Claudio hummed. “Okay?”

“Who told you to do this to yourself?” Nicole interrogated as she stole the knife from the floor. 

“Me,” the dragonfly replied. “If you want me to be honest, the voices encouraged me.”

The manager nodded. “Okay. Why?”

“Because I want everybody to stop loving me for just my body. I thought I would make it unattractive,” Claudio answered.

Nicole spoke into her walkie talkie, then set it down and focused on him again. “Whether you like it or not, you're going to the nurse and being cleaned up. By the way, Felicity is in the hospital; she was injured yesterday. And we can't have our night shift worker right now. So now Nikki is in charge. She's a former medical student. Come with me, okay?”

Claudio moaned, a long one of misery. “It hurts to move...”

“I believe in you.”

*****

In the evening, they were serving chicken and honey roasted carrots for dinner, and Claudio happened to be there. Now that Felicity was gone, his lonely table in the corner was even more lonely. Kinder used to let him sit beside her with her girl friends, let him listen in on their girly gossip and subjects. That he did not mind, even as a male. Her friends adored him because he was Kinder's boyfriend. 

Faintly, he could hear them all talk, hear Kinder speak, so close to sobbing as she explained what had happened to her earlier. Her friends sounded hurt, too, even some of them glanced at him, which was absolutely humiliating, considering the fact he was wearing nothing but a light turquoise hospital gown, his boots, and his boxers. 

A stomach pang of guilt attacked him out of nowhere, and he continued to eat slowly, making challenging endeavors to ignore the girls. The food was difficult to consume with his poor appetite, but he somehow managed to force it down with water. Benefits of eating in a harsh mental state were not simple to find, but at least he would go to sleep later with a full stomach.

When he looked up to sip from his glass of water that was already almost empty, he saw Kinder gingerly ambling towards him. His eyes narrowed, but soon, he smiled shakily, even if the gesture did not last long.

The butterfly plopped on the space beside him, then looked him up and down with worried eyes. “What happened to you?” she asked lightly.

“I...” Claudio lifted his shirt and revealed the many bandages that coated his torso. “I hurt myself because of you.”

The only emotion Kinder could sense in her heart was remorse, and her eyes displayed it to him. “I'm sorry...”

For some reason, Claudio was sorry for breaking her heart, but what good would staying with her do? “Listen Kinder, I know we both care about each other but there's not really any genuine love between us. You wanted me because you were horny.”

“I know, and I hate myself for that...” Kinder whimpered, beginning to twirl her caramel hair between her fingers, a nervous habit. 

“I saw Chino in the nurse's office and he helped me a little bit, but he explained to me what grooming was and told me that it was happening to me,” Claudio murmured quietly, eyes full of sympathy. 

“What? No... Grooming has bad intentions... Like raping you... But I just wanted to be in a relationship with you,” Kinder explained calmly, offended by the assumption. She would have searched for the fly among the hybrid crowd and glared him down, but it was too much of a risk, and it was definitely not the right time.

Claudio disagreed. “From what I remember, it seemed like you really only wanted sex from me.”

Kinder exhaled deeply, at a loss with him.  “I genuinely loved you.”

“It's not that I don't believe you. You just can't show love in a way I like,” Claudio hissed. “For the last time, I'm still a boy!”

Kinder could only match his tone. “But I didn't groom you!”

“And I'm fifteen years old!”

“And that's your fault for not knowing it was wrong!” The butterfly raised her voice quickly, a useless attempt to steal the upper hand.

“If you knew it was wrong, then why did you stay with me?” Claudio quieted, frightened by her intimidating shout.

“No, I thought it was okay at first! But now you're saying it wasn't because you're a fucking teenager!” Kinder slammed a fist on the table. 

The commotion caused the dragonfly's head to slowly start aching, and he blocked his ears in response.

Kinder took advantage of his defense mechanism, and stood up. “Just admit that it was your fault! I didn't groom you!”

Claudio found most eyes in the room to be glaring at him, hungry for their drama. 

*It was your fault. They're looking at you.*

Kinder shook him, nails digging into his skin. “Listen to me! I just want to sort this out!”

They're watching.

He closed his eyes; they were beginning to burn with frustration and the last thing he wanted was for everybody to watch him cry. The last thing he wanted was for everybody to see his vulnerability.

Your fault. It's all your fault.

“Claudio, please!” Kinder growled, her voice buried in the hundred of others, in his head and in the room.

“Stop...” Claudio squeaked, his voice wavering, on the brink of screaming and crying.

Hurt her. They're coming for you. She's right.

Finally, he snapped, and held his face in his hands, sobbing immediately as he submitted himself to the noise. His breaths were heavy and ragged; the scream for help inside was begging to be let out. Everybody was staring at him. He knew it, even if he could not see.

Kinder sat down beside him again, her heart drowned in sorrow. “Baby... What's wrong? I— I mean— Sorry, I didn't mean to call you that, Claudio...”

Claudio found it impossible to speak through his emotions.

“Did I say something wrong? You need to tell me... I hate when you cry; I always have...” Kinder consoled him.

“Stop yelling at me,” Claudio managed to whimper.

A wave of guilt engulfed Kinder at the speed of light, and again, she twirled her hair in her fingers to battle her anxiety. “Claudio, I'm sorry... I'm not yelling now, but—”

“I hear different things than you,” Claudio grumbled, clearing up his foggy eyes.

“I know, I should've been more aware... Do you want to talk this out more calmly?  I won't raise my voice this time; I promise. But you shouldn't raise yours either,” Kinder suggested. 

“Okay,” Claudio agreed. 

“So... Can you explain to me why you think you're right?” Kinder asked softly.

“How old did you think I was when you saw me for the first time?” Claudio interrogated.

“Don't know, but not a minor.”

“Why didn't you ask me after breakfast on our first day hanging out?”

Kinder had to smile at the memory. “I don't know. Didn't cross my mind...” Her voice trailed off as she started to daydream, then, her smile grew wider and she said, “God, I miss that day! I was just thinking, 'Fuck, a cute horny boy.' I feel like at first I was just horny and then I got to know you and I was like, 'Damn, he's cute as fuck.'”

“But it was after when you sucked me off you asked me,” Claudio's voice still had a gloomy hint to it. Kinder's positivity did not seem to break through his unhappy layer.

“I know, and that was wrong...” Kinder's short-lived, ephemeral joy withered off into the atmosphere. “Both of us were wrong.”

“I guess, but that doesn't mean that you should have been more mindful. Before that I told you that I'm delusional and crazy, but you still stayed. I'm not stupid; I remember things,” Claudio mentioned. “Did you take advantage of me?”

“No, what? I swear,” the butterfly defended herself. “I didn't believe you were what you called yourself. I thought it was just Micah who said that.”

“You believed me after I tried to kill myself,” Claudio snapped. 

Now, hybrids were slowly exiting the cafeteria, finishing up their dinners. Some of Kinder's friends were gone already, and her plate was stranded like a ship lost at sea. Hopefully they would finish this conversation soon; he did not desire to sit here alone with her for hours with his food growing cold by the second.

It seemed like Kinder was mimicking him as she watched hybrids leave. The stress was building up inside of her. “When you did that, it showed me you were vulnerable, and I wanted to help. So I stayed with you. Because I cared, Claudio. I held you every time you cried. And when you tried to kill yourself again, I was the first in the nurse's office. Before Felicity! And you still think I didn't love you because all you think about is sex!”

Claudio's antennae drooped. “Please... Don't yell at me...”

Kinder whispered, “I'm sorry.” 

The dragonfly cleared tears that started to form in his tired eyes. 

“You know I loved you,” Kinder reminded him gently, watching him battle tears. “Even if it doesn't seem like of, just because I spyed on you touching yourself to start our relationship, doesn't mean I was unable to fall in love. I did. I fell in love with you in the shed. And I would brag to my friends about having you, and most of the time I didn't mention sex. I wasn't using you just for sex. I loved you, Claudio.”

“I'm going to my room,” Claudio grumbled, pretending everything she had said was useless, but deep inside, he knew she was right. 

Kinder sighed, frustrated. “Me too. And by the way, my blanket still smells like you.”

Claudio walked through the aisle and into the hallway, his hospital gown enclosing him in humiliation, burying him in claims that he was stupid for hurting himself. Almost all of his cuts were stinging, it was hard to take one step without wincing, and his body was trembling with pain. All of this for nothing. All of this for everything to be his fault in the end.

When he arrived in his cubicle, the first thing he did was release the tears that he was choking on for minutes. It hurt to know everything was his fault. Of course it all was. 

He lifted up his gown with a shaky hand, frowned at the red gashes that painted his body from head to toe. His eyes narrowed; how could he be so stupid to do this to himself? 

There was a huff from outside, and he swung open the curtain slightly to find it was Kinder, with crossed arms, walking back to her room. He cursed himself for her attitude. 

But now he faced a new problem: if Kinder did not loving him anymore, who was there to love him now?

Chapter 18: Chapter 16: Flower Girl

Now that Claudio's heart no longer yearned for Kinder's love, the Pound was dreadfully boring and miserable, and the days stretched to the point seconds felt longer than before. Being by himself all day bothered him; being alone meant being comforted by his hallucinations. And it was not easy to interact with Micah even if he wanted to, even if he sometimes soothed his mind with those special dragonfly hybrid chemicals Chester had, too.

At breakfast, Claudio was afraid to admit the fact he carefully observed each girl instead of eating. He was not hungry; he was too focused on the beautiful but fragile figures of hybrid damsels in the room to have an appetite. Sadly, he only wore loose brown pants and a sweater that failed to hug his scrawny frame, and a lazy attire the “nurse” forced him to wear was not enough to catch any girl's eye. 

There was a girl who kept glancing at him and silently giggling—he heard it on her face—who was a leopard hybrid nobody liked. Perhaps she was making some cruel endeavor to fit in, however, she would always be known as the girl who lived on the courtyard's biggest tree, who always had flowers in her look, with no social skills, who tried so hard to be loved. Perhaps she thought picking on someone like him would make her superior, but Claudio's ego forced him to think there was something special about him she hinted.

Minutes passed quickly, his food was cooling down dangerously, and he still day dreamt about girls. Wonderfully, Cassiopeia managed to strike him with an arrow through the heart through Cupid. He still cherished her soft voice, her jokes, her quiet laugh. Angelic lips were perfectly alligned on her round, tight face, her eyes as celestial as the sky, her dainty frame all of her clothes knew how to wrap in a way to make her appear attractive. The ethereality of her beauty always succeeded in pressuring him to fall into a risky ditch of love he could never climb over.

It was not long before he began to ponder about murdering Cepheus, even make a detailed plan on how to lie about killing him, just so Cassiopeia would not hate him for it. 

But the way their names matched made his blood boil. The imaginary visions of them holding hands in the hall, mocking his illness, them fucking in the bathroom, making passionate love behind a curtain with him to witness were all it took to drive him closer to the edge he felt like he would fall to his death over. He despised their relationship, and would do anything to end it, just for the girl he loved. He would kill for her.

His thoughts were murdered, he flinched, snapped out of his trance, when something white flew past his face, missing him by an inch at least. There was a laugh across the cafeteria, and his eyes fixed confusedly onto the sound, which came from Cepheus, and upon finding that out his eyebrows slightly furrowed. Then, his gaze reached the object thrown at him; a crumpled ball of notebook paper.

Now, he was thirteen again, in the back of class, counting down the seconds until school ended, and he could go home, as students around giggled at their notes about him. After a prepared sigh, he unraveled the paper slowly, and read the words, written in ink.

HAHAHA you are lonely again!!!?? freak!!!!! also stop staring at my girl you're not getting her back WEIRDOO XD

He felt them; the tears in his eyes he was always indirectly forced to hold back, otherwise he would be alleged for being a baby. It was just like being thirteen, in school, but this time he could not go home.

Boys don't cry, he thought, over and over again as he ran his hands over his face. Boys don't cry, boys don't cry...

Breakfast seemed an hour longer, but time was finally up soon enough. There were almost no hybrids in the large room, for most of them were finished with their food. Remaining hybrids included a sick rat he always say with the nurse, Kinder, who was definitely still upset about the situation, her friend, a few other random, not hungry hybrids, and Cassiopeia and Cepheus. They always stuck around; it was a way they could sit together and almost be alone without being secluded in a cubicle. Claudio wished they would go away.

The chef walked down the aisle between the rows of tables, scooping up trays from each hybrid with displeasure. When he finally approached Claudio, the dragonfly was not ashamed; he had undergone this too many times. 

“Not hungry again?” the chef asked him, but his only answer were dark, depressed eyes. “Get your life together, bud.”

As the chef walked away, Claudio mumbled, “I'm trying.”

He really was, though it did not look like it, because he had no idea what he was doing. So far he had broken up with two girls, made a single friend who he rarely talked to now that he was preoccupied with girls, and besides every way he injured himself, nothing positive was accomplished. Right now, his body still ached from his cuts, his stomach felt empty despite his lack of appetite, and his throat was still thick as he held back tears. The pain he endured every day with still present since he lived at home. What good did running away do? What was the point of murdering his owner? He almost preferred to be at home. But why would that be better?

Micah wrapped his arms around his son from behind as they lied on his large bed with heavy, thick blankets. Claudio felt a little lucky to sleep here instead of his own bed, for Micaj's bed was more comfortable than his, even if he suffered first, but his father's arms were so suffocating; not physically, but mentally, and tears were on the brims of his eyelids.

A quick whimper of misery slipped from his lips, and Micah embraced him tauter, pressed himself closer against him.

“We do this all the time,” he said, pushing his crotch into the back of Claudio's jeans, causing him to wince. “Why do you still cry? You're making me happy when we do this.”

Claudio sobbed the answer as his belt was pulled out of its loops. “It hurts... Because it always hurts...”

“Oh, stop...” Micah whined, undressing his son's lower half to match his. “God, you're such a handsome boy... You get it from me.”

Claudio began to cry audibly as his hips were caressed, expecting his soon fate. “Please, please don't— Ow!” He felt his father enter inside of him, and let himself sob uncontrollably. “Ah, it hurts, please stop... Please... Please...”

“Please what?”

“Please, stop!”

He felt a sharp tinge of fury at the memory, and balled his fingers into fists so hard his hands shook. His body began to shiver in rage and warmly tingle, each atom in his body fighting the urge to let him explode and hurt himself, a way he wanted to take out his anger. Burning were his eyes as he choked back angry tears. He was on fire.

It happened every week in the summer, or so it felt like that. But each time, each time his father undressed him, each time he was sore, each time he would wake up feeling dirty and empty, was so vivid in his memory, and he begged himself to forget. 

The cafeteria was emptying. He stared at Cassiopeia. Kinder kept looking at him.

Then, one last look, and she left.

Claudio stood up and sighed, the memory escaping from his body, stealing his bitter emotion. He glanced at Cassiopeia again. Took one step forward. One step closer to her.

“There's that ticking— Ugh...” the moth girl sighed ever so softly before her boyfriend's words started to mean nothing as her focus strayed.

Claudio's heart was untouched; a sigh from somebody you loved would hurt, but he felt nothing, so used to mistreatment. He sat down beside her on the bench, and with that, she growled out a breath, annoyed.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“Do you want to just be friends with me?” Claudio asked her innocently.

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, of course.”

Claudio smiled—

“I was sarcastic. Does it *look* like I'm going to say yes? You're a psychotic freak driven by suicide,” the moth said and then faced her boyfriend.

Cepheus peeked at him and made a fake gagging sound, pointing at him to mock a child's behavior. “Freak!”

“Should be in a mental asylum.”

“Right? Also,” he whispered the next part, “I'm way more attractive.”

“And you have four wings.”

Claudio was done. He stormed off, heart broken, wanting to do nothing but kill them, but instead, he stomped to his room to cry his eyes out. Who cared if boys were not to cry? Even though sometimes it felt like it, this was not school, not home, but prison. And he was fifteen years old. Crying would be natural, and he was so sick of hiding his feelings.

*****

The next thing thing he knew was that he was in that big tree, approaching the flower girl.

The leopard's ears perked up as she heard him rustle through the branches and leaves, and her gaze pointed to the sound, the holes in the bundles of green lush making her able to see him. Her ears pointed back nervously, and she gritted her teeth; up here was a mess, and there was a dragonfly, the most elegant, clever insect there would ever be, a creature's whose flight was as smooth as ballet dancer doing pirouettes, a dragonfly that would soon see this, and she would feel horrible.

The Pound had built a small treehouse within the popular tree, dehumanizing the hybrids, taking advantages of their abilities, and giving them a life similar to a life of a zoo animal. Nobody liked the treehouse; most hybrids were young, and preferred to be social and find mates (another dehumanizing way to say “hookups”). However, the leopard, Nellie, loved it, for it was the only way to be alone, even if her bullies trashed it for that reason, and that was why it was a mess in the first place.

Claudio pushed the thin branch away above him, and the treehouse, decorated with so many flowers, was revealed to him. He almost fluttered his three wings, but caught himself; it would be awkward to unveil the fact he was missing a wing, and was depleted of hybrid hormones. Instead of using his wings, he clenched a plank of wood that was protruding from the treehouse wall, and jumped up into the treehouse.

The leopard gasped, and stammered, “H-hi, sorry for the mess...”

Claudio planted himself on the side of his knees. “I didn't notice until you said it,” he replied. His head was more of mess than this, so was his appearance, and he was more focused on that than the mess.

“Oh, well,” she said softly, trying hard not to stare at his delicate wings and features. “You can come in here whenever. It's very... Lonely. In a good way. Do you ever need to hide?”

Claudio remembered his evil hallucinations, the recurring black figure  that was noted in his notebook, and the feeling of wanting to fold up in a corner and be unseen that came upon seeing it. The feeling of wanting to cry but never being able to because everybody was around, because the voices were overwhelming and he wanted to scream, too. 

He answered her at last, “Always.”

Nellie admired his edgy attire in spite of hers. “You look nice. They captured me while I was swimming. I just have this bathing suit.”

“That is unfortunate, I'm sorry,” Claudio pouted. “I shot my owner and turned myself in.”

“Didn't you also murder a woman and her baby?” Nellie asked, eyeing his criminalistic wristband, the way it hugged his tan wrist...

Claudio swallowed. “I don't want to answer.”

“You can trust me,” Nellie assured him.

“I can? You were laughing at me at breakfast. Looking at me and giggling.”

“Yeah, because...”

“Huh?”

“I want your babies.”

Claudio was speechless. He was infertile; should he tell her that? It was not like he was attractive either, and of course she wanted him for just his body, it filled him with rage, but if he was honest, he really just wanted to talk to a girl, hopefully more than that. He wanted to fuck, too.

“When I undress, you'll change your mind,” Claudio warned her, praying cutting himself worked.

“I'm here for babies, not your body...” Nellie said with an awkward smile.

“How old are you?” Claudio asked, in case she was not mature enough, because her frame was so narrow.

“Fourteen. I had my period, so I'm ready,” Nellie replied.

“I'm fifteen. Close enough. Is that okay?” Claudio asked her gently.

“Yeah,” Nellie answered with a sweet tone. 

“Do you just want babies or do you want pleasure?” Claudio questioned as if he was interrogating her like the police did with him a month back.

“I've masturbated before. More than once. I want more than that. I want you.” Nellie began to undress herself. “You dated Kinder. You have to be something else.”

“Fuck her, she's manipulative and she's a whore. She groomed me. She's not a good person.”

“But now you have experience.”

“By the way, what you're saying is that you want me for my body, too.”

Nellie pinned her ears, frustrated. “You're more than your body. I love your species and your personality.”

“I'm literally schizophrenic.”

“So?” Nellie unbuttoned his shirt, and when she found the scabs of his cuts, she ran a thumb over them and whispered, “This explains the gown last night...”

Claudio was turned on by her fragile touch. “I did that so nobody loves me for my body.”

“Sorry...” Nellie let his shirt fall through his arms, then pulled him over to the other side of the room, across the door.

Claudio crawled instead of letting her drag him. “It's okay,” he assured her, then   undid his fly with her eyes on his hands.

Nellie watched with anticipation. What they were about to perform would change her life if it worked, and she took a short moment to revise her choices. She was so glad that he came up here first; confessing that she wanted offspring with him would be awkward, especially if he was always in his room or in the nurse's office. But coincidentally, that was what he hoped for, too.

Her white bathing suit and the translucent, long skirt that came with it was in a pile in the corner, and with his dick out, there was no turning back. They were both ready. She stood up and pressed against the wooden wall.

Claudio ran a hand through her long, silky, pale blonde hair, then moved it to the right side. He inserted himself into her, grabbed her narrow waist with his strong hands, exhaling deeply with relief. 

Nellie gasped as he began to move slowly  back and forth inside of her. Fourteen was such a risky age to do this, but she was a hybrid, so it was different. And she knew his father and his breeding history. He was okay with this, she hoped.

Claudio, although he was having fun, he still felt an uncomfortable wave engulf him, for he felt just like Micah, the person who he never wanted to be like. It was his first time breeding without mutual love, and they had not gotten each other's names. To him, she was just “flower girl.” But he still fucked her.

Nellie squeaked out her moans, and found that he adored her voice, as his pace was rougher each time she made a little sound. She wished she could look at him, memorize his actions for the future, but her primary thought was still children. 

The dragonfly's nails soon made dents in her skin as her actions converted his behavior from gentle to uncontrollably animalistic. It was inheritated from his father, he knew it as he grunted, shoved her against the wall with just his hips, and fucked away all of his stress. He did not feel like himself, but he felt amazing right now, so perhaps he could not always be a reserved, vulnerable bug.

Nellie croaked, “Just a little more,” as she became sore, but too afraid to tell him, and besides, the pleasure was hard to handle, especially from somebody she felt understood her.

Claudio made endeavors to resist from biting her, breathing shakily on her neck and ear, his teeth and lips brushing against her skin, with groans rising from his throat. He understood that biting hurt; Micah had bit him countless times, and it was something he never liked doing, even if it was a part of the dragonfly breeding ritual.

Nellie moaned repeatedly, though she was fighting to keep them in, seeing that they drove him to fucking her more roughly, and her body could not take it. But it began to hurt, and she knew his father and his sexual kinks and fantasies, and how that could pass down to Claudio.  She was so small compared to him, just five foot two with a slim, overly feminine frame, and he was almost at six feet, skinny just like her, but slightly toned.

“Gentle...” she encouraged, waiting for him to slow. He was schizophrenic, he told her, and she kept that in mind to be patient with him, but unfortunately, she was under the ideas that demonized schizophrenic patients, and blamed his aggression mostly on that. 

Claudio's stomach sunk in desire, and he became less harsh on her physically, thrusting slower and lighter, quietly whining as if he was sobbing, at the peak of delight where all he could think about was this, their bodies, the feelings coursing throughout his body. His hands raced along her sides, attempting to find the best spot to grip while having his orgasm, which was close. All of his thoughts of Micah went away, all of his flashbacks to each time he was raped that lead to his hypersexuality was gone. The aroma of hybrid arousal filled and lingered in the air around them, dooming anybody that tried to peep at them. They were alone. He was alone. With her. With the best feeling of his life.

But Nellie arched her back, letting him go deeper, and he was so, so, so close... 

It only took one of her whimpers to make him fall over the edge and cry out, loading her with exactly what she wanted, loading her with babies. The pleasure had started in his groin, and spread to the rest of his body like electricity was in his veins, burning him up, tingling every limb, nearly knocking him off his feet. He listened to her moan with him as swear words stemmed from his tongue, listened to the sound their bodies expressed as they collided again and again, slowing down by the second, and eventually stopping.

It was over.

After a minute of heavy breathing, sighing, and pressing himself against her sweaty back in a hug, he pulled out carefully. The desire to kiss her until they fell asleep smothered him, but she did not love him, even if it was the only way he could show he was grateful. 

Instead, he zipped his jeans and puffed, “Thank you.”

“Thank you!” Nellie shouted, then lied down on the floor. “I hope the baby is a dragonfly. You're a wonderful creature.”

Claudio wondered if at this point, he was even fertile. It had been a while since he had overdosed, and he had multiple hormone injections over the time he was here. But what if nothing had worked? He did not know if he wanted to be fertile or not, because if he was fertile, then he would need protection during sex. 

Tiredness was soon blocking his ability to think, so he lied beside her, shirtless still, and slept, his last thought considering seeing the nurse. 

When he woke up hours later, he was a bit disoriented, but quickly remembered why he was here. The flower girl was dressed in her snowy bathing suit, skirt too, garnishing his body and hair with various flowers. He sat up steadily with a stretch, some of the flowers leaping from his frame. 

“You may stay if you'd like,” Nellie told him, reaching his shirt out before handing it to him. “I'm always lonely.”

Why would he need to leave?—

The nurse.

Claudio buttoned his shirt meticulously. “I have to go to the nurse,” he said.

“Why?”

“I'd rather not answer.” Claudio nearly spoke again, but Cassiopeia's voice caught him off guard.

“I'm crazy...” she sobbed.

Claudio's heart snapped to pieces, such a selfish act of his insides, in front of a girl who admired him. But Cassiopeia was crying. The need to leave was so much more intense, and it was driving him insane, having so many things to hear and digest and to do, but he forced himself to make Cassiopeia his first priority, and with that, he climbed down the tree, with a promise to the flower girl that he would visit later.

Cassiopeia was curled up at the end of the tree, blocking her ears, sobbing as quietly as snow falling on the ground, and Claudio saw himself there, saw himself there many times. He tapped her shoulder and sat side saddle on the grass.

The moth frowned upon his face. “You— Ugh— Claud—” she looked up at the leaves as they shook in the wind, then wiped away her tears. “You're the only one that would understand.”

“The ticking?” Claudio asked her.

“How did you know?”

Claudio hesitated with a shrug of his shoulders. “You looked like me during a psychotic break.”

“Nobody else hears it! I have nightmares about the ticking in the walls, I talk to the nurses and they can't diagnose me! They say I'm schizophrenic just like you, but I'm not! And they know I'm not!” Cassiopeia cried. “My boyfriend is sick of me talking about it because he's sick of you and your illness and doesn't want me to be like you! I'm crazy! I'm just like you! And I hate you!”

The last four words shattered Claudio, and his throat felt tight, and once again he was stimulated enough to cry. “I'm sorry.” 

“How do you deal with this all the time? I've been getting worse!” Cassiopeia pleaded. 

“You wouldn't like my answer.”

“I don't care, it's annoying.”

“When it gets bad, I distract myself by... Doing... Things to my body... Or I sleep. They go away when I wake up and come back shortly after. Felicity told me to talk back to them and go against what they say.”

“I don't have voices, I have a clock!” Cassiopeia growled. “You know what? Go away. You're no help and you don't know what you're talking about. Of course.”

“I tried to help you!” Claudio raged, shaking. “I answered your question!”

Cassiopeia shooed him away with a hand. “You made it about yourself. You've always been so selfish—

So selfish—

“You only care about yourself—

Selfish—

“And this is why we aren't together. You still raped me because *you* were horny. Of course. Its always fucking you.”

Claudio stood up, his surroundings becoming unclear, the sun becoming blinding, the wind becoming painful against his skin, himself becoming so stressed out, with her, with himself, with the flower girl, with his fertility, with his voices, with his father... With his.. With his...

You're crazy.

He needed the nurse. 

“I'm sorry, Cassio,” he muttered, or did he? His voice sounded unreal, spontaneous, like he was disconnected from it, disconnected from himself. “Block out the noise somehow. Bye, Cassio.” 

The grass beneath his boots looked greener than usual as he stepped to the doorway that lead to the Pound's halls. Different pitches of voices circled him, just like always, but it was impossible to ignore with the stress he endured. 

Everbody was around, or so it felt that way, as a few hybrids strayed through the thick halls. He was hissed at to not trust them, and he was sent into a a spiraling hole of distrust that made him want to run and hide, but there was nowhere to go. The nurse, he kept reminding himself. The nurse...

But Kinder was one of those hybrids, and they locked eye contact for a second before the butterfly furrowed her thin eyebrows and darted to her room.

She knew what he did.

Notes:

once again a shabutie reference

Chapter 19: Chapter 17: Apollo

Whore.

Beneath him, the thick blankets that were worn, white as vanilla, clawed him down to the bed.

Selfish little whore. They're watching.

Curtains all around him shielded sights from sleeping on his soma.

Don't trust her. She is exploiting you.

Do it.

Nikki was a sylphlike Dalmatian hybrid. On the sides of her head over her straight, blonde hair, she had two floppy, spotted ears, and behind her was a short tail. Her eyes were ample and an icy blue in color, just like her ancestors'. She wore a pink long sleeve that hugged her frame, and vintage dark blue jeans that flared out below her knees. 

As she handed him a cup, she told him, voice appealing, “You have to ejaculate into this cup. And don't worry; I won't be in here and I'll keep the curtain closed.”

“How?” Claudio peeped bashfully.

“What do you mean by that? What do you think?”

Claudio swallowed awkwardly. “I have to... Masturbate?”

“How else would it be done? I'm not going to do something surgical when there's a way easier option,” Nikki answered, her tone sarcastic. She fluffed her hair then strutted away. “Don't be long.”

They're all watching. She hates you.

The curtain is not real.

Claudio reached out to his left side and ran a couple fingers down the tangible fabric of the curtain that protected him. It was real if he could feel it, right? 

It's not real. You stupid!

Still, he unzipped his jeans unhurriedly with a soft moan of uncertainty. Not hard, not turned on, not feeling anything, it was so difficult to shift his visual thoughts to imaginary pornographys with his state of agony.

Flashes of naked women occurred multiple times in his head, and he battled with himself to let the images remain there, let the images move, become animated. He imprisoned himself inside his thoughts, spitting out swears to the voices that endeavored to stop him. And the girl he envisioned was Felicity.

He crawled on top of her nude body, spread her legs, and pushed himself inside of her. Dear God, it went by so fast.  It was so simple to daydream such a perfect life with everything he desired. And excited, the time in his own little world went by so quickly, and though it was challenging to keep the movie in his mind rolling, he was so enthusiastic about it that he could not escape, no matter how hard reality made it.

She moaned, and Claudio could finally shut his eyes, begin to stroke himself, then return to his perfect, ephemeral world he created. Felicity's wrists were pinned under his grasp, and she whined his name, squirming with pleasure as his other hand massaged her bosom. He thrust inside of her roughly, so close to filling her up already, watching her face contort in delight, her breasts bounce, her... Everything. 

With her wrists released, a thumb rubbed her clit with passion, and the sight of it caused him to buck his hips faster and faster. They both breathed so heavily, and Felicity's curvy hips jerked upward as she cried his name.

Like last night, Claudio felt the lightning of an orgasm race through him, heard the nurse tell him she was close to the edge, and agreeing, he pounded her wet pussy, listened to all the dirty sounds of sex, and with that...

“Fuck,” he hissed, immediately grabbed the cup, held it over his pulsating dick, interally viewing Felicity as she had her orgasm with him. Holding back moans for the sake of the other patients' innocence, he came inside of the plastic cup, his body once again tingling and twitching as it happened.

He snapped back into materiality, committed to the horror of it, opened his eyes, sat up straight. Whether or not he was fertile he had no idea, but if he was, then he hoped Kinder and the flower girl were not pregnant. Desperately hoped. He could never be a father. Ever.

After he zipped his pants with a sigh, he flopped back down onto the hospital bed, and lied there, breathing gently in the condition of unsettling ataraxia, still holding the cup upward, slightly disgusted with himself. 

He was so frightened of his own being. He fucked a fourteen year old girl, who luckily consented, and at least he was a year older, but she was too petite to carry a baby, and even though he knew that, he still fucked her. It was so messed up of him; did he only care about his sexual fantasies? What also disappointed him were his daydreams. Looking back a minute or two ago, he realized it was so wrong to fantasize about making love with a married woman that only took care of him because it was her job, especially if she was ten years older. He was just horny. 

Tears were brought to his eyes. How fucking repulsive was he. It made him want to die. And the worst part was that he got it from Micah.

Claudio wiped his watery eyes with a sniffle, because it was so pathetic to cry. So pathetic to be him.

“Nikki!” he called out, whelving his misery into her name to maintain peace. 

The fake nurse peeked at him before coming in, noticing he was lying on his stomach, so it did not matter if his fly was undone, for she could not see anything beyond that. She stole the cup from him. “Thank you. Your results will be out as soon as possible, alright?”

“Mhm,” Claudio mumbled. 

Nikki set the cup on the counter, then glanced behind herself, noticing the dragonfly still lied on the bed. She padded closer to him with a gentle smile. “You may go to your room now. Sorry, do I have to excuse you? I don't know how to do this job well.”

“No, you don't,” Claudio replied. She was so nice to him, why? 

“Oh, okay. What's wrong?” Nikki questioned, kneeling to his level.

“Nothing,” Claudio lied, his voice quivering. “Resting for a bit.”

“You just seem like you're about to cry,” Nikki pointed out, then carressed his shoulder. “You can tell me. I have to take care of you. That includes mental health.”

That was all it took for him to bury his face in the pillow and begin to sob. “I fucking hate myself.”

“Aww, don't say that...” Nikki whined, her plump lips pouty and like a hound dog's. “What makes you say that?”

“My body is so disgusting and my mind is no better,” Claudio yowled. “I want to die.”

“No, no, that's not the answer. It might feel like its the only way to escape, but I can help you...” Nikki said consolingly. “Why do you think that about your body?”

“I hate that the voices made me rape Cassiopeia, and how Micah always used me like his sex doll... And Kinder. I hate always being horny and I can never ever use it in the right way and I just want to fucking kill myself for what I did to Cassio. She's not over it. I hate that.”

Nikki was unsure of how to respond at first. He raped someone; she despised him for that, but it was caused by his illness, and that needed to be treated, although Felicity was the one responsible for his meds. But he was also raped, and that could have made him want to share the pain. Hurt people hurt people.

“Why did you rape her? Why did they make you?” she ended up saying.

“Because I was horny!” Claudio growled, rolling over to his side, facing away from her. It was such a terrifying reason. “Leave me alone, please, please, please...”

“Claudio,” Nikki asserted. “I need you to talk to me, okay?”

“No, no, please, leave me alone,” Claudio sobbed. “I don't deserve anything good. I deserve to kill myself. Go away, please go away.”

“You don't! You don't,” Nikki assured him. “It was your father that inflicted these thoughts and ideas into your brain, because that was how you grew up. It's okay to feel jealous of others that didn't go through that; it's a natural emotion. But it's not okay to act on that. Instead, you should talk to somebody or distract yourself.”

“I want to kill myself. I want to kill myself. I can't take it.”

“Claudio, this doesn't last forever. You can't do that. I'm sure she feels as hurt as you.”

“Her life is so much better than mine!”

“Don't compare yourself to her. She deals with problems too. Everybody does. We all deal with things in different ways...”

Nikki's voice began to wither as Claudio started to void all of her words, acknowledge the voices and what they breathed, and continue to cry relentlessly, but silently. Nothing could ever make him feel better. He still raped Cassiopeia. She told him that last night. It was a crime he believed one deserved to die for. Nobody could ever change his mind on that.

His cheeks were rosy and painted with tears by now, and he realized the Dalmatian did not help relax his emotions, for it seemed she was defending Cassiopeia and sided with the thoughts that considered suicide. Of course; why would anybody want to side with him? He was always wrong. 

One glance at his hands added frustration to the long list of emotions he currently felt. So many girls that most likely loathed him he had touched with these hands. So many times he had touched himself because he wanted to feel happy for once. For once is all he asked for. 

He pondered the question of why Nikki cared about him enough to sit down and explain to him why he should keep living. Everybody hated him, so much they would rather talk to the wall than him, even cherished Micah more than him, or so he believed. It was always like that. At school. At home. In his head. Nikki meant nothing in what she uttered.

“Do you want a hug?” she asked.

It meant nothing.

*****

Fuck.

Claudio paced back and forth like an animal dying of boredom. Worries raced through his brain as he breathed heavily, as his boots stepped on the exact same spots of the hallway floor over and over again, and just like always, the voices echoed the worst case scenarios in his anxiety. He was bound to trip soon; the nervousness weakened his already frail, starving body, and his speed would not save him. His head was as weightless as the air he fought to breathe in, and his vision was starting to spin, and soon his breathing hurt, for it was so swift.

It happened. He lied there on the floor, remaining with his suffering, and on top of that, his head hurt... Did he hit it?

A deep voice calling his name was heard and soon two hands wrapped around his body and lifted him.

Claudio pressed down on the painful part of his head, and focused his gaze on... Micah.

Micah caressed the side of his head for him. “What happened? I'm here.”

The fury was almost impossible to show, and all Claudio could do was furrow his eyebrows and puff in one breath, “You don't care.”

“I care. I've been thinking a lot about you lately. You're so special. You know that? I'm sorry for everything,” Micah apologized. “Breathe for a minute. Something's wrong.”

Desperate, Claudio closed his father into a hug and tried to catch his breath as a big hand rubbed his head. 

“Having an anxiety attack or something? What's going on?” Micah asked. 

“Fuck, dear... God...” Claudio whimpered, calming as his father's magical presence did away with his hallucinations. 

“Shh... Breathe. Focus on breathing.”

After a few minutes, Claudio was breathing steadily, but he was sweating, trembling, and nauseous. And his head ached, although Micah was pacifying the pain with his gentle hand. A part of him did not want to tell Micah what was wrong; it would make him relapse in his anxiety. 

But Micah urged, “What is going on?”

“Fuuuck,” Claudio whined with a frown. He tightened his fingers around the fabric of his father's shirt. “I'm fertile!”

Micah's heart stopped and a smile grew on his face, along with a laugh of joy from his throat. “That's amazing!”

“No, it's not, because all of the girls I've ever fucked could be pregnant! And I'm not ready to be a father! I can't do that shit!” Claudio raged.

“So? You're single. The kids aren't your problem. And you could boost the dragonfly population!”

“I hate to think the baby will grow up with one parent just like me because their father is a psychopath!”

Micah's grin began to evanesce as he recalled that ladybug—who Claudio was referencing to—Momma. He had been that psychopath nine years ago, and the memory replayed in his head like a rewinded scene in a film, the exact same way it replayed for Claudio, but now, in a different perspective. 

The gun lowered to his waist. Silence. Blood was strewn ahead of his mad gaze. His son quivered beneath a coffee table, unable to savor his mother's death with his eyes latched to the gore. 

Micah felt a twinge of guilt grow into a pang. Here he was, alone on the floor of a prison, alone with his son, and of course it was the son he abused, instead of another one of his children. It was like he was forced to bond with him by a superior being, to see how valuable his dragonfly truly was, to help Claudio see the importance of family in an inaccurate world that hated him. 

Claudio found the silence as a chance to continue. “And Flower Girl can't push a baby out of her tiny body.”

 Micah's antennae were lopsided in confusion. “Who is that?”

“I don't know. I call her Flower Girl because she's obsessed with flowers. She's the girl with the long blonde hair— Leopard hybrid,” Claudio answered. 

“You mean Nellie? Her name is Nellie. Bathing suit, right?”

“Yeah.”

Micah appeared surprised, wide eyed. “She's so skinny! I mean, she may be fully grown, but she's fourteen... Claudio...”

Claudio's stomach dropped, a familiar feeling whenever Micah was upset with him, and he expected to be slapped, so he squeezed his eyes closed, but nothing happened. 

“You're so stupid. What were you thinking?” Micah questioned, disappointed. “You bred her?”

“I'm sorry, Mi— Papa. Please, don't hurt me—”

“Cut it out,” Micah snapped. He always pleaded like that at home, and the flashbacks to abusing him were too sour to think about, and his chest tightened in remorse. “You could kill her.”

“I know! I know! I feel so sorry! I thought I was infertile; I'm so sorry!” Claudio stammered nervously.

“You better pray it didn't work that time. Don't fuck girls that aren't a good size. If you have questions about breeding, ask me. I get she was your first mate, but you made a bad decision,” Micah scolded him sternly.

“I'm so sorry, Papa. I was stupid. She wanted babies and I was horny. I thought I was infertile! I could've sworn!”

“And I understand that. You should still be safe and not even have sex with girls that can't carry offspring. You could hurt them.”

“I'm sorry, Papa. Just don't hurt me—”

“But I'm not like that anymore—”

“You were sorry last time before you raped me!” Claudio shouted before breaking away from his father's embrace, standing up, then running off.

Micah stayed there, heart shattered, for a few minutes as he stomached his dreadful sorrow. Trust between the two of them was so weak, and it was all his fault. His fault for hitting him, his fault for throwing him over small mistakes, his fault for verbally tackling him over tiny mishaps. His fault for killing Momma.  Tears filled the brims of his eyes, and it was the first time in years he had cried over Claudio. 

He climbed into his cubicle and shredded all of his emotion into his warm palms, his warm palms that still smelt like his son. It was like the typical scent of dragonfly hybrids; a fresh pond of excessive water lilies. But Claudio's scent was more human, more disgusting, to hybrids at least, but somehow still pleasing the senses. Right now, Micah hated to smell that. He wanted his son to escape his head, but simultaneously, he was all he could think about.

Inwardly, he pleaded for him to come back, to not go crying off in a corner and become vulnerable to hallucinations, to not scream his pain onto some innocent girl, perhaps Nikki. Or worse, go to the kitchen and reveal his insides with a blade. Still, there was always worse he could do.

Minutes of sobbing passed, still his son was gone, unheard, unseen. It was too late; he could be hurt already. He was *gone.* Never had he worried for him this much.

But the tread of his boots got louder and louder...

Hope ignited in Micah's body, then he whipped open the curtain and peeked. “Claud, come here.”

Claudio sighed. “Leave me alone!”

“Don't show me attitude! I just want to settle things, okay? Where were you? Will you come here?” Micah asked him, but added in despair, “I'm not going to yell at you again. Come here, I'm sorry.”

Claudio saw his teary eyes and huffed, “Don't touch me.”

Micah allowed him into his cubicle. “I won't touch you wrong. Don't you worry. I just want to talk with you.”

“Nikki said she'll give the girls pregnancy tests and birth control, and that the chances of them being pregnant is not a hundred percent. I feel a little better, but I still worry if they end up pregnant.” Claudio fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.

“See, you need to start thinking about the solutions to your stress. That's good she's helping. But I want talk to you about something that is not about that,” Micah told him. “You know I love you?”

“No.” His voice was flat.

“I've been very guilty for the past few days after we had that fight. I realized how wrong I've been. I don't want you to forgive me, but if you manage to, then that's great. But I'm sorry for everything from the day I shot Momma.”

Claudio dipped his head. Momma...

“I'm sorry I was never a great father, and  from now on I want to be as good as she was. She loved you so fucking much. I didn't like her much, but I shouldn't have killed her. She was everything to you. She still is, right?” Micah questioned, but was answered with silence. “Claud?”

“I miss Momma...”

Micah pulled him into a tight hug. “You always have. And I hate myself for shooting her. I want to be as loving as her because I realized how important you really are.”

Claudio's somber eyes began to burn with wistfulness. “I want to see Momma.”

“She's dead, Cl—”

“I know!” Claudio cried, then buried his face in his father's chest. “I really miss her!”

“Shh, don't cry...” Micah hushed, then stroked his head sweetly with gentle fingers. “She still loves you even if she's not here. She will always love you. When you feel unloved, remember her.”

Claudio fought to recall certain memories of his mother, most being in grayscale instead of in color. She was always a lovely mother, and he was her prized possession. But he was only six years old when she died, too young to hold onto and cherish memories, too young to not hold onto and cherish her. If she was still alive, would they be the best of friends and hang out everyday? Would he hide in his room like a typical, tired teenager who was upset with his mother? How different would life be if she was still by his side?

Micah sniffled and hugged his son tautly, beginning to weep once more. “I'm so sorry, Claudio.”

“I wish she was still alive,” Claudio brooded.

It was hard for the older dragonfly to stifle his tears. “I know. I love you so much and I'm so sorry... I can't believe I treated you like a disgrace. You know how me and Momma met?”

“No?”

Micah smiled through tears. “I went to New York for a party hoping for a mate, and luckily, I found her, and she took me home. She wanted to date me, but I only wanted you. And she wanted you, too, but not me. You were an accident to her, you know. She was only horny and drunk. But she became pregnant and suddenly she couldn't wait for a baby and all the time she would call me asking for name suggestions and other random shit. She cried after giving birth to you because she was so happy. Don't ever feel unloved. She loved you to death. Literally.”

Claudio wiped away tears, his throat becoming tighter and tighter. “Why did you kill her?”

“Because I was fucked up and dumb back then. And she kept you no matter what, and I wanted to have you.”

“If you wanted me so bad, why did you hurt me?”

“Because I hated her so much and all I saw in you was her. It wasn't just because you were mean to me. You remind me so much of her. You attach to people too easily. Just like she did. You still have her in you.”

Claudio squeaked, “Am I really like Momma?”

“Yes, oh my God... Just like her. It's obvious she raised you,” Micah replied. “The attitude, too. You have her bad attitude. You've always had.”

Claudio could not handle the conversation regarding Momma; he missed her so much, and each thought of her rotted his heart until he was forced to cry about all of the things he wished he could tell her, do for her. Cry about not being able to touch her. All he wanted was a hug from her. A hug from his mother would be the cure to all of his problems. But it was impossible, and that was why Nikki's hug would have meant nothing, for she was not Momma.

“She loved you so much your name was her last word,” Micah reminded him softly. 

Claudio sighed deeply, releasing the tense feeling that was brought with tears. Their moment together was too depressing; both of them had damp, pink cheeks, though Claudio was clueless as to why Micah cried. He was tired of being upset and stressed all the time, and a conversation about his mother was the last thing he needed. Leaving felt necessary, but his father wanted him. 

Micah's hand cupped his son's forehead, and he thumbed his antenna to grab his attention. “May I tell you something, chéri?”

“Mhm.”

“I know it's going to be hard for you to raise offspring if your mates end up pregnant. But try to be as good as Momma was. Youre like her, remember? Always remember. You can be a good parent, too.”

“It's not that I think I'll be bad, I'm just not ready. I have too many things to deal with already and I don't need a baby.”

Micah shrugged. “The things you deal with as in finding girlfriends? You don't deal with a lot.”

“Yeah, you're right, I have nothing to worry about. My life is carefree. I'm not schizophrenic,” Claudio grumbled sarcastically, lifting himself from his father's chest. “I don't deal with other things on top of that either.”

“You're still a teen. Your life isn't that full."

Claudio shoved the curtain until it layered onto itself, and the light poured in to stab Micah's vision. “Yeah!” he snapped, then hopped out of the cubicle. 

“Don't leave!”

Claudio huffed and ran his hands over his face, frustrated. The violent winds of stress were annoying to stand through, and it was any second he would he knocked to his knees. Blown away into suicide. What did he have to deal with that was not so bad to Micah? Everybody. Everything. Micah. Flower Girl— Nellie. Kinder.

Kinder.

As if she was not standing right there in displeasure.

Claudio stared into her eyes, his angry, bloodshot glare pleading her to leave him on his own. Could she not tell he was bitter towards his father, or did she not care? Her gaze screamed at him to be guilty, and his sensitive soul followed the command without question. They both knew what was wrong.

“What's the matter?” he asked her, his voice low.

Kinder crossed her arms. He knew. But now was not the time she wanted to be teased, and this time he was not trying to be sexy with his teasing.

“Tell me.”

The monarch butterfly hybrid rolled her eyes and gestured with her hands as she rambled, “You break up with me because I was too horny, and shortly after you have sex with another girl. You don't make fucking sense at all. No, I'm not mad it wasn't me, I'm mad because you made me feel worthless. How is that fucking shy bitch better than me? Does that make sense? It doesn't,” Kinder's voice then amplified and trembled with rage with the intensity of a fire. “And now I'm even more mad at you because I overheard your fucking conversation and I might be fucking pregnant! Fuck you, Claudio!”

“I'm sorry.” It was all he could say as she stormed off.

Kill yourself.

Before she entered her room, she howled, “You're a fucking dirty whore and this time I don't mean it in a good way!”

Kill yourself. Go ahead.

Do it. Momma is waiting.

Claudio's eyes meandered around the hall, searching for a room to be swallowed in. Anywhere could kill him. The walls could murder him with a few punches. This time, the kitchen was not where he longed to be; he did not wish to be caught on the security cameras and rescued. But the images of his body as the knife had bit him, had let his torso and legs drool crimson spit; it was so inviting. The thought of being destroyed a second time was delightful. 

His feet began to take him somewhere. Finally, he could rest in peace in death, while the rest rested in peace in his death, alive. 

And somehow he ended up in the nurse's office. Nikki welcomed him into her support with her bright eyes. Claudio welcomed her into his suffering with his sunless gaze.

She beamed like the moonlight in his dark night, “Hey!” But his lifeless stare made her uptight. “Are you okay? You're back already.”

Claudio mumbled something; he could not find his voice between all of the others. And he had no clue what he said, either.

“Huh?” Nikki cocked her head like a dog normally would when confused. 

Claudio stood motionless. Wordless.

“Why did you come here?” she asked him, approaching him carefully before grabbing his hand. 

“I-I was going to... kill myself,” he stammered as he cherished her touch. 

Nikki pouted, then smiled gradually in hope. “Why didn't you?” 

Claudio squeezed her pale hand and was taken back in time to their earlier interaction. “Because of you.”

Nikki released his hand, released the little gesture to turn it into something bigger. 

“Do you want a hug?” she asked.

It meant something this time. Something so special. 

And now there was a delicate dragonfly suffocating in a delightful Dalmatian's arms. The best way to die.

Chapter 20: Chapter 18: The Dragonfly Story

Notes:

cw : self harm

It felt strange to finally feel alive.

The turning point in his life was finally reached, or so it seemed. Micah loved him; he acted genuinely sorry, for by now Claudio would already been hurt if he was pretending, but Micah was intelligent, sly, so Claudio could not be sure. Was Micah only a talented actor with his cries? Or were his tears true?

Even just a hug, even words uttered by a dog that did not bark helped him.

He was still alive. If it were not for Nikki, he would be dead. And he could feel it, could feel his heart pump, his chest rise and fall, his eyelids fall against each other, and it felt so blissful. 

In his notebook, he wrote down how he was feeling. No salty tears dropped onto the paper. It was still lined, still white, still clean. 

I feel alive. I don't know why but I feel lovely.

Soon, boredom smacked him against the wall, and as he fidgeted with a ballpoint pen in hand, he stared at the paper, mind clear of ideas to add. His head leaned back against the gray paint. What did happy people usually do? What did happy people do when they did not need to deal with problems?

Of course, there was still weight he carried on his back, but none of that weight danced in the forefront of his mind. It was all of yesterday's problems; his fertility, the fight with Kinder, the confusion regarding whether or not Micah really loved him. And today's problems were subtle, for it was only his schizophrenia symptoms, and those were experienced on a daily basis. 

He was happy.

After clicking the tip inside, Claudio set the pen down on top of the paper. It was so uninteresting to bide in his tight cubicle when there was much better to do with the amount of joy he was undergoing. He placed his black boots in front of him and buckled them on to go out to the courtyard.

It was a repetition of yesterday, hopping out of a cubicle, only without red eyes but instead eyes one could tell were tired but casual. But they paired with new red eyes hiding in the color of a lost sky without clouds. They were not red with blood, but red with anger. And Claudio could not decide which he despised more: fury or blood.

Kinder bat those deep blue eyes then glared at him, and he could feel his mood rot... Rot... Could feel her suck in his euphoria, until it was diminishing, and when it was small enough she broke eye contact, for she could not bear the spooky gaze she once found attractive.

She snapped, “Nikki wants me to take a pregancy test. If I end up pregnant, I'm going to fucking kill you. I told you; they torture the mothers here. Look! Go in the nursery! Look at all of those unhappy faces on the children. Look at the mothers; look at the stress on their faces. Look what misery you will put me through!”

“I thought I was infertile, Kinder,” Claudio reasoned. 

“Well, you were fucking stupid not to make sure first!” Kinder shouted, then walked in the direction of the nursery, only to take a left into the hall that brought her to the nurse's office. “No wonder Cassiopeia hates you!”

Claudio's heart was like a flower that once blossomed in the face of the sun, but wilted in the absence of its necessities after being poisoned with darkness and drought. Come what may, flowers always die in a perpetual night.   

And therefore he did not feel alive. 

He ambled to the sunny courtyard, the weight that was once in the back of his mind sliding down to the forefront, too heavy for him too carry, so he hung his head low. Watched his boots take one step forward. Two steps. Three. Until he was in the light of the biggest, burning star. How could one be in the sun and in the dark at the same time?

“Feliz sería que hora?” he muttered and planted himself in an overgrown patch of weeds and flowers. 

His hands plucked out many white and yellow flowers at once, his knuckles pale with frustration. Laughter from other hybrids around him wounded his already dead heart with a pang of jealousy to his stomach. He looked up; hybrids in love, hybrids with friends, hybrids alone but content. Unlike him. What made one ecstatic was something he would never have, and not knowing what was out there that could give him temporary pleasure bored him. How could he be so stupid to believe in his own ecstasy? How could he be joyful when he had hurt so many girls like Kinder? It was selfish of him.

One particular, gentle laugh caught his ears, and he turned his teary gaze upwards, to see Cassiopeia walking along the sidewalk, hand intertwined with her boyfriend's. And what a delight it was to see the embodiment of the sun in front of him until it burned his eyes, but he extinguished the fire with tears. When she was far off, he was in the storage room, in the middle of the night, standing there, heart bleeding on the floor, crying lightly in the shadows. He deserved that.

He wondered; did anybody else feel despised by the sun? It was like his skin was pink and sick with cancer at the sight of Cassiopeia, a harmful effect of her rays.

But he shook the thought. She was long gone; he had to stop obsessing over her, especially because she hated him, as Kinder stated. Despite her beauty, her voice, her laugh, her hidden sense of humor... The list went on. Her eyes, her heart-shaped lips, her strawberry blonde hair, her glowy skin, her perfect hourglass build, her style, her personality—

Forget it. He could never get over her.

With white flowers, either dying or fully alive, in his hand, he stood up and pivoted to the doorway. Cassiopeia was coming back around the corner to scorch him again, and he needed to leave before it was too late.

In the hall, Kinder was nowhere to be seen. She was either still with the nurse or in her room, but he could not be sure, so he tracked the volume of the tread of his boots as he advanced across the concrete floor, ensuring quietness, in case she wished to see him, for he did not maintain a kindred desire. 

Nicole crossed her arms at the sight of him, and he stiffened, endeavoring not to be noticed. The nurse's office was four... Three... Two... One room away. And she stopped him.

“What are you doing?”

Claudio stuttered, “I- I'm going to see Nikki.”

“What do those have to do with it?” Nicole bobbed her head at the flowers.

“I want to give them to her,” Claudio replied. She did not seem satisfied. “To thank her.”

Nicole remained unimpressed. “She's busy. You can't keep interrupting her unless it's serious. She's a young girl and it's hard for her to do this job by herself. That's why Chino sometimes helps her. Leave her alone for now.”

“I'm unhappy; may I go in there?” Claudio questioned hopelessly.

Nicole shook her head. “You're always unhappy. Go to your room.”

The dragonfly clenched his fist around the bundle of flowers, snapping one in the process, causing half of the green stem to fall gently to the floor.

“Let me go in there,” he demanded, voice low and unsettling.

“Nikki has hurt and sick patients to take care of. She's only one person. You'll only stress her out more.”

“I'm hurt and sick. In the head. Does that not count?”

Nicole shook her head a second time. “You're a murderer. It's common sense you're sick in the head.”

Claudio sighed and stomped by her, ignoring her. He needed to visit Nikki, his only source of pleasure. In the doorway, he stared at her, observing her duties, silently claiming they were simple, for not many injuries were expected to happen here in the Pound, due to high security. Then she noticed him, and her eyes worriedly leapt around the full room before she allowed him in with a gesture.

He almost smiled in adoration.

But the Dalmatian did smile, unlike him. She said, “Hey, Claudio. The room is a little full; some hybrids got into a rough fight. Wanna come back in a little bit?”

Claudio did not desire to be stubborn in front of her, but it felt natural, so he held out the flowers, an implicit way of disobedience. “I wanted to thank you for saving me.”

Nikki accepted the kind gift with a grin. “Oh, of course! If you ever feel down or suicidal, come see me!” she beamed, but her teeth were closed in by her pink lips slightly, watching the unchanging depression in his expression. “Let me put these down.”

Claudio stood in place, following her with his sight as she set the flowers down on the counter before she turned to the other patients, checking if they were okay, then back to him.

“What's up?" she asked him sweetly, tucking that one snapped half of the flower between her blonde locks.

“I'm just feeling unhappy,” he told her.

“Oh. I don't want to leave you to cry in your room. What's wrong? Did something happen?” 

Claudio softly exhaled through his lips. “No. I just don't feel happy. I never feel happy.”

“Aw, well, sit down on the edge of the the bed right there with me so we can talk,” Nikki replied, then lead him to the nearest bed on the left. She placed herself at the end of the white bed, in front of a fox hybrid's covered feet. When Claudio sat beside her, she smiled.

Claudio made sure there was at least an inch or two of empty space between them. There was a new fear within his soul, and it was intimacy. Especially with girls.

Nikki began the conversation. “Why don't you feel happy? Do you let yourself feel happy?”

“What? What do you mean?” Claudio questioned, puzzled.

“Do you constantly beat yourself up?” Nikki quizzed, and with this, he looked away in shame. “You do, huh?”

“Everybody says I do.”

“Tell me, what do you like about yourself?”

Claudio peered blankly at the tiled floor. The answer was nothing. He hated his writing; it was too delusional, as everybody told him. He hated the one and only childhood he would never get a chance to restart. He hated his only father. He hated his family and home. He hated his past school and the bullies inside. He hated his untreated illness. He hated his past relationships and the hate his ex girlfriends have for him. He hated his appearance. He hated everything.

“Nothing,” he eventually rasped.

“Well, I think it was very sweet of you to gift me those flowers because I helped you. You have a caring heart,” Nikki offered. “How about that?”

“I guess,” Claudio agreed. 

“There's a lot to love about yourself. Do even you like the way you look?” 

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don't fit the beauty standard.”

Nikki examined his entire body with her eyes. “Why does that matter? You aren't fat. You're quite tall, too.”

“I don't have short hair. And I'm not muscular,” Claudio brooded. There was so much more than that he detested about himself, so much he wished he could fix forever.

Nikki reached her pale hand up to his head and began to play with his curly hair. “Don't cut it. It's a unique part of you. Don't give it up for society. In my opinion, I think you look better like this anyway.”

“Cepheus always makes fun of me.”

“Well, Cepheus is a fucking jerk,” Nikki snapped. “Sorry, don't mind my language. He's a loser for picking on you. You are beautiful. Look at me!”

Claudio steadily shifted his sight to her. 

“You are beautiful! Cepheus probably thinks he's tough and cool for making fun of someone who clearly can't handle it. He's not. He's a loser, and you're so much better than him. You're a sweetheart,” Nikki assured him, but there was still doubt in his demeanor, and her heart cracked in helplessness. She looked away. “Do you want a hug?”

Claudio sighed. “I don't... Deserve a hug...”

Nikki shook her head, slowly, so slowly. “What do I want to hear?”

He knew exactly what she wanted to hear. After a dry swallow, he corrected himself, his voice dead, “Sure, I need one.”

Two forearms slipped under his wings,  which fluttered in surprise, and his chin rested on a shoulder while his eyes shut. The warmth surrounded him tightly and it made him exhale into the fabric of her pink shirt, his breath tickling her to the point she shuddered.

Her fingertips drumming his back, Nikki purred, “Are you okay now?”

Claudio shook at the touch. He lied in spite of the delight, “Not yet.”

So Nikki held him longer, showering him with oaths that would stain his brain and linger long enough to keep him content. But he already was. He was safe in a girl's arms, a girl who manifestly never had a thought of undressing him, and a girl who cherished his feelings and gave up everything else to support him.

However, Nellie was outside of the office, sobbing upon the sight of the daisy in the nurse's hair. That dragonfly was the only one who made her feel real, seen, heard, feel like she was somebody instead of nobody. And he was gone to somebody else. 

After all, the story went about the dragonflies and death, and Claudio could play the main character in that tale. He could be the little dragonfly nymph that wondered what happened to the other dragonflies that escaped the pond. He could be brave enough to climb the stem to the top that was like a stairway to heaven, only to take a nap on a pleasant lilypad and find three wings upon waking. But Nellie was still in the water, waiting anxiously for him to come back as he began a new life on land. He was dead to her. The same could not be said for Nikki.

Dragonflies symbolized change and always will. He changed and there was no denying it. 

Nellie swam away. At least he was happy being dead. 

***** 

Claudio's knuckles beat against the concrete wall that surrounded Kinder's cubicle. He awaited a reply, nervous and trembling.

The butterfly whipped open the curtain, her blue gaze curious before focusing on him when it aged to be upset in seconds.

Claudio kneeled down to meet her level. “Hey.”

Kinder huffed. “What do you want? If you're feeling kinky, leave. It's all you want. A hookup.”

“No, no, no,” Claudio hushed her, voice panicked at the assumption. “I just wanted to ask you something. It's important.”

“Funny you don't deny that you're obsessed with hookups,” Kinder scoffed. 

“Hm? You're the pornstar, remember?” Claudio matched her attitude. “I'm not. I'm a writer.”

“Okay. You could write porn.”

“I don't. I write sci-fi.”

“Sci-fi can have porn.”

“Well, mine doesn't.”

Kinder laughed and laughed. “Surprising. Really fucking surprising.”  She looked at her nails instead for a second, needing a break from his face. “You're still not denying it.”

“I've only had one hookup,” Claudio grumbled. “Will you let me ask you—”

Kinder began to cackle. Claudio's antennae drooped and he suddenly found interest in the floor and a side saddle position. She exhaled noisily, calming down from her amusement. “So far! I find it ridiculous that you're trying to change the subject. You hate accepting the fact that you're addicted to sex. You couldn't take being with me because I'm too horny but you couldn't take the break up either because you realized you still wanted sex. So you fucked Nellie. You are a fucking whore.”

“I know,” Claudio hissed. “I did that to cope.”

“I don't care why you did it. You still made me feel like I'm not good enough,” Kinder snapped. A terrible silence stood like a wall between them. 

“I'm sorry, fuck, okay? I'm sorry, Kinder!” Claudio shouted. He let out a quivering breath, his frustration slipping away. “I know I'm a whore; you think I don't hear it everyday? I don't like it! I feel disgusting all the time because of how fucking horny I am! You're not the only one feeling bad!”

Kinder scooted back, sensing the aggression in his tone. “I feel disgusting. Don't make everything about yourself. I'm ashamed of myself for fucking your filthy body. At this point, I just want you out of my life. You need serious mental help because you're fucked up. Go. Now. Get help.”

“I'm trying!”

“Go!”

“Are you pregant, Kinder? That's why I came here! I just wanted to know if you're pregnant!”

Kinder growled like a vicious dog. “No! Get out of my face!”

“You're really not?”

“No, you dumbass! I said no! I'm not pregnant! Go away!” She slammed the curtain shut.

Claudio stood up with a soft sigh. He then pivoted as a hand lost itself in his curls. She knew what she was saying and he realized she might have been right. His addiction to sex had gotten out of control to the point it affected his relationships with girls. Nikki could be the victim next; he needed to figure himself out soon. Get serious mental help as Kinder told him. 

So he began his way to the main office, brain being eaten by an amoeba of shame and regret. He turned left into the first hall, relieved to find out Nicole was not there, yet, at least, with knowledge that she monitored the cameras constantly. Watched his every move to the point he was never alone, no matter how lonely he felt. Why did she care about him so much? Was he really so crucial she cared to make sure he would not murder himself? He failed to believe it. Nobody would care if he was gone.

When he entered the room, the secretary first greeted him with suspicious eyes, but went back to work when he walked past. Straight ahead was Nicole's office, and with a racing, scared heart, he entered.

“Hey,” Nicole muttered. She watched him take a right into Archie's office, and in spite of his ignorance, she continued, a bit irritated, “Come see me.”

At the sound of her command, Claudio hurriedly snatched the bottle of suicide from the shelf and popped the lid until it was on the floor. With his shaky palm cupped facing upward, he tilted the bottle, and spilled some pills onto his skin. A panicked exhale slipped through his lips as his fist enclosed the miniscule drugs, and he lifted the cap from the wooden floor, twisted it back onto the bottle, and set the entirety of his lethal pleasure back onto the shelf. 

Before exiting the prostitute's office, he made sure. Three pills in his right hand. One in the left.

Nicole raised her eyebrows. “Swallow that with water then come see me. How many do you have?”

He opened his left hand.

“'Kay. Good.”

Claudio left, dragged himself straight into the nurse's office, and fed the one pill to his right hand. As always, his and Nikki's eyes met each other's, playing the roles of the day and night in a psychological drama. He stood there until she approached him, his patience lasting years in a life where thoughts flew instead of crawled and shrunk a minute into a second. He stood there for seven minutes. 

Nikki finally sauntered closer to him, keeping a small distance. “You alright?”

Claudio forgot why he was here until he felt the pills that were hugged by his hand. “I need water.”

“Oh!” Nikki exclaimed, then skipped past him for the sink. She took a miniature white paper cup and filled it to the brim with cool tap water. 

While he back was turned, he covered his mouth to mock a yawn, when in actuality, he was tucking the four pills into the pocket of his mouth.

“Here you go. You know, you're free to go get water from the kitchen, so when you finish that, why don't you go there?” Nikki informed him.

“Okay,” Claudio acknowledged, though  it did not match his plans. He flooded his mouth with more than enough water, only to swallow his suicide. 

When she saw that he was finished with the water, she robbed the cup from his hold, and tossed it into the garbage. 

Before he could think about turning away, she embraced him tightly, and his arms rested on her back involuntarily. It was their last hug. He did not want to tell her that.

Still with him against her body, Nikki mumbled, “Good?”

“Yeah.”

She pulled away and let him leave. “Bye, Claudio!”

“Goodnight, Nikki.”

But the Dalmatian read the clock immediately after. It was five in the afternoon. She stared at his back as he drifted from her field of vision, sceptical with furrowed eyebrows and pouty lips. A fingertip carressed the flower she could never get herself to remove from her hair. There was something about that boy, and at this point she could not tell if it was good or bad. Could she really worry? Could she really worry when he ensured her a lovely sleep tonight?

Claudio eagerly faced Nicole. Whatever she did would not matter. He was dead by tonight.

Nicole pushed out her chair to speak to him more easily. “You didn't listen to me earlier.”

“I didn't care,” Claudio replied.

“Yeah? You think you can do whatever you want?”

“Am I allowed on my last day alive?”

Nicole began a sentence, but a squeak came out and she cocked her head. “That's a... Weird question...”

“Answer me.”

“Well, if I was told I have a day left to live, I'd do whatever I wanted. But today is not your day.”

“How do you know?”

“You're on suicide watch. You can't die. So you can't do whatever you want.”

Claudio's antennae moved gently and he leaned on the back of a chair “What if we all die all of a sudden one day? What if you didn't know it was your last day alive?”

“There's a low chance of that happening. Don't act so sure about it. Hey,” Nicole told him, then pressed her forearms on the table, closer to his dreadful expression. “Why don't you see Nikki? You're showing signs of a psychotic episode. I don't want anybody to feel unsafe.”

“How am I showing symptoms?”

“I'll be honest; you're saying random things and being paranoid and delusional,” the manager stated.

“I hate that I tell the truth and you shrug it off as delusional because you don't believe me,” Claudio grumbled in frustration.

“I won't ask you again. See the nurse. You need to start listening to staff better.”

“She can't help. She has nothing to help me with,” Claudio refused, his voice drawling. The truth was he did not want help.

“Claudio, you are not believing me because you are paranoid. I am saying you are experiencing symptoms and you aren't listening because you are paranoid. Paranoia is a symptom. You have to listen to me. I'm right and you're wrong.”

“Always wrong!”

Nicole hushed him, “Shh.” She planted herself to her feet and pinched the collar of his shirt with her hand to hold him in place. “I'm not asking you to get help. I want you to stay in there until your symptoms calm down for the safety of other hybrids. I'm not saying you'll hurt them; I'm saying they could feel like you will. Okay? So go to the nurse.”

Claudio dipped his head, his body beginning to sweat. “I'm fine.”

“What did I just say? It's for the safety of other hybrids. You may feel fine and not need help but you still need to go.”

“I don't want to,” Claudio complained, two fingers slipping under the collar of his shirt so he could tug it away from himself and cool himself off. Was it just him, or was this room really getting hot?

“That's too bad. You have no choice. I'm telling you to go to the nurse and you aren't listening.”

Claudio gasped softly, losing weight in his head. He knew his symptoms could  cost his... death. Only if Nicole noticed. An instinct ordered him to make a clever excuse. “I'm getting hungry.”

Nicole failed to agrue with that. He never ate. It was all the staff wanted and begged for: him to eat. “Okay. Let's go to the kitchen first. You may pick out whatever you want to eat, just as long as you have something in your stomach.”

As they walked, Claudio's collar held by Nicole's firm claw, the dragonfly acknowledged that in hours he would be gone. Micah would lose a son. Chester would lose a brother. Travis would lose a friend. Nikki would lose a patient. Felicity would come back to either good or terrible news, depending how she viewed him. At least Cassiopeia, Cepheus and Kinder would benefit. So would Momma, for he could finally be with her. It was all she wanted. She loved him.

Exhaustion began to beat at his body. He nearly groaned, feeling a swoon coming on.

There was no point in saying goodbye or thanking anyone. 

Nicole could feel his high temperature through the skin on his neck. “Are you anxious?”

“Huh? No,” Claudio faltered.

“No? Are you feeling okay?”

“I'm all right. Why?”

“You're getting hot. May I feel your forehead?”

“I'm okay,” Claudio hissed. 

Nicole pressed the back of her hand to his forehead anyhow. “You are starting to feel warmer. Are you sure you're hungry? Seems like you're running a fever.”

When his head was light enough, vertigo hit him like a speeding train. He pleaded to sit down in his room and die there, but he was on his feet with the manager, and for now, it was going to stay that way. Death would be slow and painful; it became clear to him.

Nicole pushed the kitchen door open. “What do you want to eat? Something light on your stomach, for sure. How about crackers?” she offered, then released him. She ambled to a cabinet while he stood there, wobbling.

Claudio veiled his spinning eyes. Her back was turned; she could not see him act on his dizziness. Another sigh poured from his throat, and he lifted his gaze to the manager, whose words began to become inaudible. 

Suddenly, a myriad of colors filled his vision in a noise like pattern. He could not see Nicole staring at him with worry.

“Claudio, seriously, are you okay?” she questioned, and approached him. He did not reply, seeming to not hear her. “What's going on? You need the nurse. You're hallucinating; I can tell.”

“I'm... Not...” Claudio mumbled, and crashed down to his knees involuntarily.

Nicole dropped the package of crackers, and tiny bits of a few biscuits spread across the floor. A hand flew to her walkie talkie and she kneeled down. “Nikki, come to the kitchen, please.”

“I'm okay; leave me alone!” Claudio shouted, his voice weak. He did not want Nikki here. He did not want her to see him like this. He did not want anything to do with her right now.

But Nicole thought he just did not want help. Knew he did not want help. She tried to keep him in place with a hand on his collar, but he swung a fist at her, so she slapped him and yelled, “What is your problem?”

Tears burned angrily in Claudio's eyes, a fist slammed into Nicole's body again, but he was so frail it could not drive her away. Giving up, his hands cradled his face, and he sobbed in defeat.

“What's wrong? What did I do?” Nicole questioned bewilderedly. When she heard footsteps outside the door, she stood up with a heavy exhale. Her gaze laid on the dragonfly, searching for signs of what was wrong, with nothing to turn up with.

Nikki shoved the door open, and her expression switched from determination to worry at the sight of Claudio. Her heart was pinched. “What's going on?”

“I think he's hallucinating. And he also has a fever. But I don't know why he's crying,” Nicole replied. 

Nikki nodded and kneeled down to him. “Okay. I got it,” she said, then her voice alchemized into gentleness, “Claudio.”

Without a response, she tried again. “Claudio? What are you feeling?”

Claudio shook his head, refusing to answer. 

“Are you stressed out? That sounds like a lot for you to handle,” Nikki consoled him, stroking his hair. “I know you can't express your emotions properly. I'm trying to help you.”

“I don't want help,” Claudio whined, breathless.

“Are you frustrated?” Nikki asked. He was silent. “Let's go to my office. That way I can check your temperature and you can get some rest. You seem to be weak and you're trembling.”

Claudio adored her kindness, and pondered if he really did hope for death or not. Could he only live for her? 

Their hands connected like a key into a lock, and he was lifted from the floor with her. She wrapped a hand around his waist to keep him upright, and he blushed, did he not? Did he really blush?

And for the first time, Claudio sensed something strong between them, but still, he was dizzy with sickness, and his brain was spinning like always, just now it made a little less sense than normal. He could be wrong about  the spark between them, but what if he was not?

Chapter 21: Chapter 19: Guilty

Notes:

gonna try to finish this fic before summer starts.... *crossed fingers*

There was more than the soft, white gleam from the overhead light that collided with the darkness of night to meet him upon waking in the nurse's office. Sleep troubles; he knew it. With just his eyes, he searched the room, drawing the conclusion that the night shift nurse did not come today, and if she did, she was not in the room. Claudio was glad because he hated her, despite her weird, eerie beauty. And the fact he could mostly think about girls for their appearances reminded him that he really did wake up instead of dying in his sleep, so he closed his eyes, brooding his beating heart. 

What happened last night? Nikki had taken him here and laid him down to inject hormones into his system. To save him. She saved him. Why did she feel it was necessary? He raped Cassiopeia; he deserved to die. His sexuality was the reason his death gave him pleasure.

Nausea was coursing through his stomach; was this why he woke up, or was it because of his aching body?  Either way, he was alive, so what did the reason matter? He was breathing, wishing he was not. 

Anyhow, he sat up, wincing at the pain that ate him from inside out. Everything hurt; his legs, arms, especially his wings, and his head. On top of all of that, he felt sick to his stomach, and was so ferverish his temperature was unrecognizable as he shivered off his own warmth. 

He then stood over the sink, nearly hunched over, softly squeaking out involuntarily in pain as he allowed his nausea to take control and eventually wipe out the contents of his stomach. Shakily, his hand turned on the faucet, and he washed away his bile, breathing deeply. Those little cups that Nikki had last night were still here on the counter and he stole one to fill it with cold water, only to soothe the burning in his throat. He whimpered, then stepped backwards to flop back down on the bed and curl up weakly.

That black-haired nurse he had only seen once appeared in the room and fixated her eyes on his moving figure, and for some strange reason she seemed to be in a better mood than last time. “Are you awake?”

Claudio could tell it was useless to lie when she spoke like that. “Uh-huh.”

She padded up to him and rested a hand on his warm forehead. “Feels like you aren't getting better yet,” she told him hopelessly, then rubbed the openings of his dry wings. “Want something to eat before you go back to sleep?”

“No,” Claudio answered, burying his face in a pillow, tensing at the tender touch at his wings.

“At least drink some water,” the nurse suggested. “Don't forget you have a glass on the counter. You need some strength; it'll help your body work normally again.”

“I don't care,” Claudio moaned.

“Come on. We know now what you were planning. You too young to die and you have a whole life ahead of you. Things may be hard now, but it gets better. There are more ways out but you only see one, and it's the worst way. Please stay strong,” the nurse advised him, fetching the glass from the counter and handing it to him. “Drink this, please.”

Claudio lifted himself and downed a few sips of water as she watched. He gave it back to her when he was finished, observing the trembling in his hands and how it made him feel closer to death. Silently, secretly, he prayed the water would not benefit him.

The nurse tested his sensitivity with her fingers on his antennae. As she excepted, he winced, an abnormal reaction to a touch to the hybrid parts. She dropped her hand. “You've woken up so weak. Of course, hydration won't take effect immediately, but if you keep drinking at every chance you have, we'll see a change. Are you still tired?”

“Yeah,” Claudio replied, wanting to frown at her order. “I woke up because I felt sick.”

“Makes sense. Your body is overreacting to the sudden change with your hormones and chemicals, and that's why you're sick. Is your stomach feeling better now?” she asked him.

Claudio processed his symptoms for a short minute. There was a faint ache in his stomach, but it was not strong enough to nauseate him. “I'm okay.”

“Good. I'm assuming you have a headache too because of your sore antennae. Are your wings also sore?” the nurse interrogated.

“Uh-huh,” Claudio mumbled, rubbing his spinning eyes and falling back down on the mattress. After his reply, the nurse stared down on him for a solid three seconds. She appeared guilty for some reason. Why?

“Go to sleep,” she sighed, and then she walked away. 

Claudio watched as her body was swallowed up into the hallway and she was eaten away from his sight. Now he was alone with himself to comprehend everything, but it was difficult to process his feelings on top of being horribly ill. 

Sleep was grabbing him, pulling him closer and closer, until his eyelids fluttered repeatedly and his thoughts turned into erratic, spontaneous dreams. Voices bounced around, making their casual senseless comments that were hard to make out tonight. Sickness lounged inside of his organs, leaving him with a slight, persistent nausea, with pain in various parts of his body. Naturally, he needed sleep, and no matter how hard he was trying to stay awake, his body was letting itself cherish the rest of the dark hours.

“Hello?”

The sudden sound woke him quickly.

“It's Sarah. I'm sorry it's so early; I'm a little stressed out.”

Claudio shut his eyes, but remained alert.

“You know, the dragonfly. I can't let a hybrid die. It's so messed up.”

She was talking about him on the phone.

“You're right; maybe another shot will help. It'll put him to sleep, too, if he's not sleeping already.”

Claudio braced himself. He despised shots, mostly because they kept him alive, but he believed they hurt, a child-like quality of his.

“Don't hang up. I'll be back,” the nurse said, and set the flip phone down on the counter beside her. She withdrew a syringe from a clear, plastic set of drawers and a bottle of medicine inside a cabinet with a lock. It was silent in the room as she filled the transparent tube with medicine, with a sigh of remorse after. 

Sarah shook the dragonfly until he looked up at her.

Claudio averted his eyes immediately, distrusting her for some reason. 

She held his arm and whispered, “I'm going to inject medicine into your arm. Stay still. And I'll do your thigh after.”

Claudio groaned, tensing with anticipation as he awaited the needle. Eventually, it poked him, and he winced. A Band-Aid was laid over the spot his skin was punctured.

“Last one,” Sarah warned him, pulling out his belt to yank his jeans to his knees. 

The sense of exposure rattled Claudio's brain with anxiety. It reminded him of the reason he attempted suicide in the first place; his fertility and sexuality. Then, he remembered Kinder, her shouting, her disappointment, how he upset her. He wanted to die all over again.

The nurse was back to stab him with life. Again, he winced, a Band-Aid was coated over his skin, she zipped up his pants, and before he knew it, it was over. He let out a complain in the form of a whine into his hands. Why could he not die?

“You'll be hormonal for a day or two. Control yourself. I was informed of the incident that happened last time you were injected with medicine,” Sarah commanded him, then snatched the phone from the counter.

Claudio's heart stung at the memory. Please, just fucking kill me, he begged silently, tearing up and turning to rest his cheek on the pillow. I should not be alive.

He was dozing off already as a few tears gently hit the fabric of the pillow. Nobody seemed to notice. The nurse was on the phone, chatting, with no work to do. All the hybrids in her office were asleep, and he was on the brink of it. 

“He's sleeping. Great. Where were we?—Right. The law...”

*****

As Nikki listened to her patient's heavy breathing beside her ear, on her shoulder, she pondered the state of the Pound. Ever since Felicity's injury, or since Elias's death, or both, the entire place has seemed... Darker. And now Claudio was on the edge of life, holding up with two shots of hormonal injections that slightly altered his personality. He was never this touchy; he would never lean on her shoulder unless she told him to. He was usually wary of her personal space. Things were changing. How could she give in?

“Claudio?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Wha— Yeah. Okay.”

Nikki smiled shakily as the dragonfly's head rocked back comfortably in the crook of her neck. Was it the stress confusing her and shifting her mindset, or did a part of her really like this? She was still hooked on the realization that there was something about Claudio, and now she noticed that it was not a bad thing. He was interesting, for sure, but she did not see him as a delusional, sex addicted rapist, like he viewed himself. Eccentric was the right word. 

Nikki thought the side of Claudio that shone through was certainly not the rapist side of him. He changed from that. It was in the past, and although Cassiopeia might not be over it, she had a loving boyfriend that helped her through the pain. Claudio had himself to help with the pain of the overwhelming guilt, and it was not enough at all. He knew it was wrong and he was guilty to the point he became suicidal. Why did he want to die? Nikki thought he had suffered enough, a punishment for committing that terrible crime.

Cassiopeia might look at him like he was a rapist, but Nikki did not. She saw him as a victim of trauma that was trying to find an outlet which turned out unhealthy. He needed support, not death.

“Claudio, wanna talk?”

“About what?” Claudio's reply came out as a lazy mumble.

“A sensitive topic. We can wait until later if you want. But I want to talk about when you raped Cassiopeia.”

Claudio lifted his chin from her shoulder and looked away instantly. “Oh... Oh, okay.”

“Everyone says it wasn't that bad and could've been worse but you say you deserve to die for it. Cassiopeia is constantly intimate with Cepheus; she seems to be coping. What really happened?”

Claudio swallowed. “I got mad at her... She was making fun of me, and before that, we consented. Yeah. We consented. But she was getting angry and I was, too, and I was horny. And the voices started screaming at me. I couldn't really think, so I gave in. And... I was... I was on top of her,” he explained, beginning to fidget as he continued. “And I was biting her... And it... It—It felt good but she was screaming... And Nicole came in and I snapped back into reality and got off.”

He made no excuses. Nikki could hear the remorse clear in his voice as he admitted everything truthfully. “Do you think if you weren't psychotic then this wouldn't have happened?”

“No, it- it wouldn't,” Claudio's voice began to quiver with emotion. “I'm sorry. You probably hate me.”

Nikki ignored the last bit. “Cassiopeia has every right to be frightened by this event, but do you think she needs to have some empathy?” 

“I don't deserve that. She should be scared... I'm a freak—”

“Don't start.”

Claudio blabbered to himself, and flopped over into a fetus position. “Don't hate me. No, hate me. I'm addicted to sex, I'm disgusting, I'm just like my father, I—” The rest was gibberish as he sobbed.

“Claudio, we really need to sort this out. This won't help you get better,” Nikki informed him, peering down on him in despair. “I could get Cassiopeia here.”

Claudio shook his head. “No, no, don't do that. I'm not ready.”

“Okay, well, later, we'll do that. I'll give you time to prepare. How about that?” Nikki suggested gently.

“Okay.”

“No more negative talk about yourself.   You know what?” Nikki pulled Claudio up by his collar. He looked at her, eyes wet and attentive. She continued. “We need to take this seriously. From now on, you're going to get better. What's the first step?”

Claudio choked back sensitive tears he wanted to pour out. “I don't deserve help. I deserve to die. There's no first step.”

“Well, then I think the first step is to get rid of the suicidal thoughts. It's going to be really hard, especially with your hallucinations, but I believe in you. You need to love yourself.”

“There's nothing to love about myself.”

“All you see is a rapist, right?”

“That's who I always will be. I don't like it. I want to die. I ruined my life.”

Nikki stood up and stepped to the front of the counter. She rummaged through drawers, Claudio watching curiously behind her. “Death isn't the only option. There's still plenty of time for change—”

“What change? What do you mean? How am I going to lose the 'rapist' title? It's been done; I'm a rapist. I raped her.”

Nikki spun around, a notepad and pen in her hands. “Are you still looking forward to raping anyone? Are you ever gonna do it again?”

“No! Why would I put myself through that again?”

“So you aren't a rapist. You were one, but now you aren't. You've changed already; it's just hard to accept because you're so stuck in the past that you can't see the future.”

“I do see it. That's when I die.”

“You have an entire life ahead of you. You're not thinking of death in a beautiful way. You're supposed to live until your old and ready for your inevitable death. You shouldn't be afraid of death when it comes; you should be happy about the life you lived.”

“I'll be sorry for rape until I die! I'll never be happy with my life! I've ruined my life! It's over!”

“Claudio, calm down, okay?” Nikki held out a hand in front of her, signalling him to settle. She cautiously tiptoed closer to the bed he sat on the edge of. “You're hopeless. There's still room for good memories. You need to try to be more positive.”

“I can't...” Claudio moaned, a new wave of tears coming over him. He ducked his face into his knees. “There's nothing to be happy about.”

Nikki set down her notepad and pen to open her arms. “Claudio,” she purred. 

Claudio tilted his head to look up at her, but rocked it back into his knees. “I don't deserve it.”

“Come on,” Nikki whined, and plopped down beside him. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him until he was tense. He eventually returned the embrace. “You deserve this. You've been through a lot.”

“I deserve to die,” Claudio sobbed.

“No, you don't. This doesn't last forever. I promise. One day you'll be really happy and you'll barely think about it. One day Cassiopeia will be over it.”

“I want to kill her.”

Nikki's heart stopped; she forgot he was capable of such things. She forgot he was a criminal. She forgot he was a killer. “No, no, no, Claudio. That's not how you solve it. You want to get out of here, right?”

“I'll die here,” Claudio brooded. His voice never changed; it was always flat and without emotion, no matter what he uttered, if it was loving or disturbing.

“Look at me,” Nikki commanded, losing patience, pulling away far enough to see his face. “What do you want in life? Do you want to be loved? Do you want to be happy?”

“I want love, yes, but no one will love me,” Claudio answered.

Nikki softened. “I promise you that you're loved. There has to be someone that loves you—”

“Who?” Claudio snapped, suddenly frustrated, causing the nurse to flinch. He sighed shakily and tried again, “Then who?”

“Your mother,” Nikki replied, releasing him from her hug.

“Someone alive,” Claudio demanded.

Nkkki's gaze meandered, it wore an ashamed deameanor, and Claudio frowned at the truth. Her mind was as blank as his voice; who loved him? Did nobody really love him, or did she not know him well enough?

“See?” Claudio hissed, then glanced at the doorway, and then the sheets. “I wish I could go to my room to escape you.”

Nikki's heart was pinched, but she dismissed the feeling and instead, she snapped her eyes to him and stammered, “I can't name who. I don't know you well enough.”

“I know myself best,” Claudio murmured under his breath, tucking his head into his hands, elbows on his thighs. “And I don't think anybody loves me.”

Nikki hid a strand of her pale, blonde hair behind her ear, sighing when she should have been comforting him. He was too stubborn. Inwardly, she begged for Felicity to get better; perhaps she knew how to help him. Her patience with him was starting to wear out like that filthy treehouse in the courtyard. He was too stubborn.

“This doesn't last forever,” she reminded him eventually. “Unfortunately, I can't say the same about your schizophrenia, but I promise your stress and guilt won't last forever.”

Claudio stared at the counter from behind his fingers. He heard. She knew he heard her. But his lack of response told her that she might be wrong, at least to him. 

“It's going to be okay someday,” Nikki urged. No movement at all. “Someday you won't want to be dead.”

“I want to be dead,” Claudio uttered, voice flat. It was like his mind processed half of what she told him. Like he was not really there; in a different, darker place inside his head.

“What's on your mind, Claudio?” Nikki asked him. 

The reply did not come until a couple seconds after. “I want to kill Cassiopeia and myself.”

Nikki glared at him with furrowed eyebrows. But this was an invitation for her to get a closer look to how he worked, how all of these thoughts came about, and she accepted it. “Why do you think killing is the only way out?”

“Cassio won't exist anymore. I won't exist. The problem will just be history. Both of us won't feel pain anymore. And if she dies and I don't, that will be okay, because I won't worry about the pain I caused her. If I die and she lives,  that's okay. I don't know how she would feel because I would be dead but I'm sure she will feel good.”

“Mhm?” Nikki acknowledged. “Do you find pleasure in hurting others?”

“It relieves me...” Claudio's voice was suddenly quieter, almost a whisper. “But I don't rape girls. I can't do that again. I like to see pain and blood because it distracts me from my own problems.”

“Did you enjoy raping?” Nikki interrogated him. 

“I only did it one time, but I immediately regretted it. I like to feel good sexually. I would fuck all day if I could, but I could never ever rape again no matter how horny I get.”

Nikki nodded understandingly. “That's a good thing. You're getting better, even if you don't see it.”

“I still want to kill myself,” Claudio grumbed. “I still feel sick.”

“I meant in general. You seem to be getting used to this place. You'll be sick for a little bit; you'll be better possibly by tomorrow if we check up on you often. But we have to put you on suicide watch and take away everything that you could hurt yourself with,” Nikki said, then whipped her gaze at him like she had an epiphany. “Speaking of. . .”

Claudio groaned and dropped his arms to his knees, allowing her to put her hands on his neck unwillingly.

Nikki unbuckled his collar and slipped it off of his neck. “Control yourself. You can't be chained without this, so please control yourself.”

“I will,” he promised, then leaned back onto her shoulder. 

Nikki held his head close with the crook of her elbow, her fingers in his hair. “Done talking? Try again later?”

“Sure,” Claudio agreed, closing his eyes. 

“Remember you're loved, Claudio. You just don't know who loves you yet,” Nikki reminded him, because it was her. She loved him. But he didn't know that and that was sad.

*****

She was looking so pretty beside him; her strawberry blonde hair straight and hanging to her chest, her clothing wrapping her body in the most perfect way, the off-shoulder shirt exposing the narrowest shoulder he would ever see. How could somebody as ethereal as her sit beside him? Did it make her look bad?

She fluffed her hair, the scent slapping him in the face. It was a little sweet and slightly florally. He adored it, but he looked away instantly, pretending his eyes were never locked in on her.

When Cepheus entered the room, chin up and posture firm with confidence, Claudio's chest tightened in jealousy. He wished so bad he could be the lucky one who got to have the best girl in the world. 

But Nikki stepped in after him, seeming more dreadful, and there was no point in Claudio hiding his emotions; his antennae were droopy and he hung his head. 

She titled his head up with a finger on his chin and purred, “Ready?”

Claudio's reply was a but hesitant; the delicate touch of her fingertip distracted him. “Yeah.”

Nikki sat down right next to him. “You in a good place to do this? How are the voices? How are you feeling?”

“Nervous... And they're quiet—could be worse...” Claudio mumbled, silently torturing the rips of his jeans. 

“Cassiopeia, how are you today?” Nikki asked across the dragonfly.

The pretty moth shrugged. “I guess I'm alright,” she replied, tugging her boyfriend's hand and caressing his skin.

“How have you been mentally since the incident in the storage room?” Nikki questioned her with a gentle smile, massaging Claudio's shoulder to ease his anxiety as his fidgeting began to grow more violent.

“I'm not feeling like total garbage, but sometimes I look at myself and feel like I serve no purpose besides pleasure. I was scared of boys for a while. Except for Cepheus,” Cassiopeia  answered, grinning at her boyfriend as she uttered the last sentence. 

The urge to spill all of his sorrow kept Claudio shaking. He whispered just one, “I'm sorry. They made me hurt you.”

Cepheus frowned at him. “Nobody gives a fuck you're psycho. Take some responsibility.”

“Why else would I apologize, dumbass? I know what I did,” Claudio snapped, but before he could continue, Nikki pinched the skin on his arm.

“You could've just ignored them and not hurt her. Easy as that. But you just wanted to get what you wanted,” Cepheus argued.

Nikki was pressing at them to stop, but Claudio was determined to change his mind. “Why don't you try to control yourself while you're being ordered by multiple voices that aren't even real at once? I didn't mean to hurt her, but I couldn't control myself and I'm sorry.”

Cassiopeia raised her voice above his, “I was crying and you were fucking attacking me because I told you I would rather Cepheus take my virginity. It's my body and you have no say in what I want to do with it, you selfish dick—”

“Watch it,” Nikki warned, her voice intimidating.

“I know, and I'm sorry,” Claudio pleaded.

“You saying sorry isn't going to make me forgive you,” Cassiopeia told him.

“Then what do you want from me?” Claudio cried.

“Nothing! You did something unforgivable, okay? I understand you feel guilty for it and you feel bad for me, and that's all I care about! As long as you're aware! As long as you know you did something wrong and you won't do it again.”

Nikki shut down the tension of their arguing with a soft reminder to Claudio, “We all make mistakes. Some are bigger than others. Both of you feel hurt by what happened and it'll take time for the pain to heal. She's right, Claudio. You're guilty, and that doesn't feel good, but it's how you should be feeling. You need to learn how to find the good in things; you'll be less sad.”

“I can't feel guilty; I have enough to deal with. I can't take it,” Claudio moaned, his short antennae hanging over his forehead again. “I just want to be happy.”

Nikki began to run her nails up and down the dragonfly's back. “You'll be happy if you care for yourself and you'll get better faster. But you keep trying to hurt yourself. It's going to be a bit harder with your schizophrenia, but that doesn't mean it's impossible. If the hallucinations are ever bothering you, don't do anything else, just see me. No matter what. See me and I'll take care of you.”

“Okay. I'll try to do that,” Claudio agreed, but slightly unwillingly. His life was already ruined; what could fix it? He had to admit, though, he enjoyed Nikki's company.

“Nice job committing yourself to change,” Nikki praised, hoping to encourage him. 

“I won't kill myself,” Claudio decided.

Nikki protruded her bottom lip; a dog-like habit of hers when something upset her. “You really know how to darken the conversation.”

Cepheus leaned over to see Nikki more clearly. “Can we leave?” he spat.

“Yeah, sure,” Nikki responded. “I wanna speak to Claudio in private anyway.”

Before the Dalmatian could even finish her sentence, both moths were already on their feet. It was disrespectful, especially to her since she now was technically a staff member, but whatever. She looked at Claudio, her expression echoing her offended thoughts.

“They hate me,” Claudio whispered, crossing his arms, but the gesture was less of something grouchy, and more insecure and protective, like he was trying to warm himself in cold weather, except what was cold were the hearts of both moths.

“So what? I have people who hate me, too. Shit like that happens to everybody,” Nikki assured him, her hand crawling to his hand, drawing it away from his chest. “But guess what?”

Claudio did not look up. “What?”

“I like you.”

“In what way do you mean?”

Nikki hesitated. “The more risky way.”

 

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Dragonflies