Sqaure -9

Jack cursed her eyes, cursed the men that had hurt her, cursed fate that always seemed to be against her, cursed the nerve or whatever it was that had thrown a black veil over her eyes and therefore over part of her mind and kept her in the lonely dark. Something was happening. She could hear scuffling, she could hear pain and fear and urgency in Vito's words, but she could not begin to understand what was going on, why it was so important she help him.

She continued to stumble blindly forward, her hands outstretched, her ears working overtime. She could almost feel them twitching, like satellite dishes, aiming around as they tried to pick up the sound waves Vito was releasing into the open air. He said something about his hair- typical, but also rather worrying considering he would never let something happen to it.

His explanation, however, brought her to a complete halt. For a second, her breath caught and it was almost as though time stood still, her brain and heart stopped. Then it all came rushing towards her, sped up to make up for the time lost, hitting her with the force of a train and almost sending her falling backwards on to the street with the weight of the situation.

She was close to him, she could hear it. She moved forward, her arms downward having detected him being low to the ground. "Hold on," she said, trying to keep the fear and panic out of her own voice. He hand bumped something and felt around. She had reached his shoulder. "I'm here-" she felt her way towards his arm and kneeled next to him, the wand quivering in her hand. "I'm sure Diffindo or something could work." Her hand slid down to forearms, feeling warm liquid and she felt her voice catch. "I can help. Where's the cuff?"

Vito had been tortured once before.

He remembered that dark evening well; such an event was, after all, quite difficult for someone to forget. He could recall withholding screams of agony by digging his teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip, as well as writhing about on the floor that he was bound to... but he had broken in the end. He would not make that mistake again; Vito refused to express his pain as Jack ran her warm fingertips down his forearm in search of the cuff that his wrists were bound by, coming nearer and nearer to his open wounds.

Not a single scream had left the lips of the female whom he was kneeling before- Vito thought bitterly of the satisfaction it must have brought her to have him at her feet- and he would not be outdone by his rival.

This, however, proved to be quite a difficult mission as Jack’s hand met Vito’s injury and he flinched away from her touch, giving the cuff an excuse to constrict once more. Vito had run out of skin for the sharp-edged metal contraption to carve into- his wrists were no longer made of flesh, but aqua veins and rock-hard bone- and therefore, it acted rather like a pair of sheers when it came into contact with the wires that continuously fed his fingers with blood.

It was a simple snip, and yet, it was the worst damage that the thing had done.

With his face inches from the pavement, Vito’s jaw slowly fell limp against his chest, his mouth forming a tall “O”- but no sound escaped his mouth. He could do nothing but scream silently, for, despite his past, he had never experienced such extreme levels of torment, and was incapable of coping.

Someone was howling within his mind -someone who sounded quite like himself- shouting Jack’s name at the top of his lungs, but as Vito strained to form the letters that made up her name with his drying lips, he found himself incapable of speech.

It was the evening for loosing senses, apparently.

Tink!

Vito collapsed against the ground completely, having lost the strength to hold himself up. The broken poltergeist fell atop his bent arms and the handcuff clanked quietly against the pavement, this being the only noise that Vito had created that could possibly have alerted Jack Dyllan of the situation.

For a short moment, Vito wondered if Jack Dyllan had tasted the same putrid flavor of pain when he had stood at the alley's edge, listening to the words of her assailants. "How sweet", Vito thought bitterly, "you think of her when your dying." Unbeknownst to Vito, these thoughts had been translated to words without his command; a result of his crumbling mind. "The mighty Vito Dee Symons..."

Jack heard the sound of him falling- she could tell that was what it was- and he fell from her grasp, from her help. She cursed, loudly and then tried to calm herself, collect her thoughts. She could not Accio him, she may just end up hurting Vito more than helping him. She felt her fingers twitch like crazy, even more desperate than her mind to help... If only she could see.

"How sweet, you think of her when your dying."

It was faint, but he had said it. She felt that feeling again, like being hit by a rushing wall, bowled over by a train, a funny sinking feeling. She did not care what he thought of her right now- she could ponder and dwell on that later, when things were better... because they HAD to get better. Instead, she heard him admit something... Something Vito would pull all stops out to prevent.

"No," she said fiercely. "You are not dying. And I am not blind!" It was a demand, and she pointed the wand directly at her eyes, realizing the risk and ignoring it. "Episkey!" There was a popping sound in her sinuses and a bit of light burst into her vision, making her stumble back. She blinked rapidly, squinting to make out the figure on the ground.

She could not see perfectly, but it would do.

She went over to Vito and grabbed him by the shoulder, firmly rolling him over. She could not see the details, but even with her terrible sight, she could see the mangled mess of his wrists... Nothing magic couldn't solve... she hoped. Glad she was not the squeamish sort, she reached out and fumbled for the cuffs. "Diffindo. Diffindo!" She picked up both cuffs, trying to cut both. "E-episkey," she tried, not sure if it could do anything for his wrists. "We might need to get you to St Mungo's... Both of us need help."

The inconsistent drumming of Vito’s slowing heart, as well as the screaming within the walls of his skull, made up a deafening combination that continued to burrow deeper inside his ears, and it only added on to the dreadful experience. He could find no pattern to his pulse as he lay face-down in the darkest corner of London; his life was slipping away from the human form that he had taken on, and he had no cheap poltergeist tricks left to pull of in order to preserve his soul- or, what was left of the burnt and withered thing.

At some point during those long few minutes, Vito’s eyelids had fallen over his eyes, but he no longer possessed the mental capacity to keep track of what took place each second, and was startled when he found that he could no longer see in front of his face. Jack had disappeared. He had saved her from death, and she had fled from the alley with her life, leaving him behind to pay for his sins.

Vito was completely alone once more, as he had been for hundreds of years.

Ten, boney fingers wrapped themselves around each of Vito’s shoulders, and suddenly, he was ripped from Death’s arms, and was dragged back to Knockturn Alley. He had been on the brink of fading when he had been turned over by a figure that moved too quickly for his now-lethargic mind to follow- he could, however, hear the incantations that the being spoke aloud, and recognized the voice that brought them to life immediately.

Jack had not abandoned him as he had originally assumed, and he had not died.

“Diffindo”…

Clink!

There was a loud clatter of metal when the lethal bracelet fell from his wrists and collided with the ground just a few millimeters below… and the noise sounded so sweet to Vito’s ears, despite the fact that he was only relieved of his physiological torment with its removal. What felt like a large snake made up of pure electrical charge continued to slither beneath his skin, and Vito remained warm and sticky as his own blood ran along his once-flawless flesh. His white suit had most likely absorbed a good amount of the liquid, but even Vito’s narcissism was put on hold for that torturous moment.

"E-episkey”…

It was quite ironic, the fact that Vito had shown the most weakness while being healed; despite his determination to remain silent, his voice suddenly returned to his silent screams, and the noise tore through the air like a hole being torn in the universe. His veins had begun stitching themselves back together, and it was a far worse pain that that of his actual injury; the snake was being pulled out from beneath his flesh, and it was digging its high-voltage teeth into his bones in an attempt to cling to him.

The force that was packed into the charms and enchantments that healers were taught was enough to rid the human bodies of the most severe of injuries- Episkey, on the other hand, was a nifty magic trick that Charms professors taught to their students in order to grant the children permission to heal small nips and cuts; the sort of injuries that required stitches, and nothing more. Therefore, it was immediately after his faulty wiring had been repaired, when the effect of the spell called it quits, leaving Vito’s torn flesh as it was- but it hadn’t been the external booboos that had brought him to the ground...

Slowly, Vito dragged his eyes upward and met Jack’s green irises, his breath only just steadying. Vito’s face had paled dramatically, due to the immense amount blood that had been spilled, and yet, his voice remained steady and intentionally low as he spoke, “How much fun was that?”

The man’s lips had curled upward at the ends into his signature smirk, but the pain had not yet left his eyes, and his scream still echoed in the air, making it quite transparent. "Awww, but Mom, I hate Healers!" He added, unaware of the emotion that remained on his face from minutes prior.

The bracelets fell off and Jack felt a small trickle of relief in the pit of her stomach, the antagonist of the situation finally vanquished. She knew, however, that it was not over. She had only said Episkey because she was desperate for a quick fix for the moment. Something to fix the mangled flesh, or stop the flow of bloods all over Vito. No, this was not over yet.

The healing was terrifying. Vito screamed, and he screamed loudly. Jack and Vito made a point of attempting to prove to each other that they were invincible, and therefore could not be hurt by the other in any sort of means. They had only broken to pain in their worst moments, and Vito's voice had never, ever gotten this loud around her.

She closed her eyes against the noise, which meant little. Her vision was flashing in and out, unhelpfully. She did not know what wiring in her brain had been knocked loose, but she was sick of it. It was not something she could easily heal. Like it had been with Vito, Episkey had only been a quick, very temporary, fix. She needed St Mungos.

Finally, Vito met her gaze and said in as normal a voice as she guessed he could muster how fun it had all been. She tried to smile weakly, but her own life force was waning, and if she indeed wanted to get them to St Mungo's, she needed to keep her strength preserved as much as humanly possible. He smirked too, but Jack saw the pain; even almost blind, she could see it. She shook her head, wincing as her vision began to shrink again.

At his complaint, she shook her head. "Vito, frankly, I don't care. I'm apparating us to St Mungo's and then passing out. C'mon. I need you to stand." She shakily reached out, her fingertips bloodstained and trembling, ready to exert the strength needed to help Vito stand.

The chilled evening wind danced about the winding brick roads of Rockturn Alley, and the sky began to darken as the Sun set behind the tall rooftops of shops and inns. The taste of rain was in the air, but it was a rain that had not yet fallen, and it was a flavor that had been mixed with that of the his own blood as Vito licked his drying lips. It was the first step of his physiological recovery; dragging his tongue along those fleshy pinks of his.

Next came the trepidation of not being presentable, and the narcissism returned once more to take Vito over like a disease that had no known cure.

He had already begun checking his vital signs...

His favorite suit: Vito slowly began to push himself up off of the ground with his elbows, but his eyes were on his once-completely-flawless attire rather than the pavement that he was attempting to uproot himself from- an attire that had begun to cling to his skin as the blood the fabric had absorbed, sunk in.

His body: Vito was certain, as he examined the long, deep rut in each of his wrists, that the injury that the Ministry of Magic had caused him would leave a scar that not even the strongest of cosmetic potions could rid him of.

His pride: Out of determination to rebuild the skyscrapers of Egocity that had been reduced to rubble during his near-death experience, Vito refused the hand that Jack had offered him in order to assist him in pulling himself from the rough, bloodstained pavement. Slowly he climbed to his feet once more, and stood at the redhead’s side; even with as stubborn of a mind as Vito’s, he knew that apparition was not a possibility on his lonesome, and that to resist in any way would be his demise.

He had no choice but to join Jack on her trip to the hospital, for he himself would not survive without the aid of a healer.

“Watch the wrist…” Vito muttered so to make sure that Jack would not dig her nails into his wound upon taking his hand, and exhaled dramatically; the redhead was high-maintenance, for it seemed that every time he came across her he experienced some form of excruciating pain… whether it be physical or psychological.

Jack did not feel Vito's hand but she felt his approaching presence and the brush of fabric beside her, telling her he had gotten to his feet and his words told him he would not struggle. he would accept her help and the help of the Healers at St Mungo's. Jack had only ever been there as a visitor, preferring to let her injuries heal naturally. Unlike Vito, she wanted to keep her battle scars.

What a day it had been. She had not thought much of Vito, only of how strange her life had become, the turn it had taken. She had read about the Law of Attraction, how thinking obsessively about something can cause it to happen. If someone thinks about getting a new car long enough, their likelihood of eventually getting one increasing. The same works with dieting and the like.

She had been thinking about drastic changes in her life... And now they had come. Again.

And along with them came Vito Dee Symons. Again. She needed help, and so did he. Right now, he needed her help. She reached out with one arm, putting her arm around his waist and grabbing his forearm, closing her eyes and concentrating on St Mungo's. Finally she turned on her heel, concentrating with all her might. They were both depending on her.

((Next thread))