As soon as Sean walked in his apartment, he knew he was doomed. He knew there was no way in hell he would survive this attack, there was no way he could make it. Today, he would die, and there would be no one to hear his screams.

The day had started normally enough. Sean Mcloughlin was just your normal Irish twenty-two year old living an average life. But, then again, he hadn't told anyone about his...secret.

His secret was something he would die to protect. No one could know. No one could know, because if they knew, they'd kill him.

Either way, he was going to be dead.

The trouble had started as soon as he'd walked through the door. Sean hadn't felt anything abnormal all day, but being alone in his apartment made him feel uneasy.

"Mark?"  he yelled, his voice echoing all around him. No Mark. Mark Fischbach was an old friend-turned boyfriend who had volunteered to live with him so they could share their income.   Hey, renting apartments was expensive, especially in America.

Sean didn't like it when Mark wasn't around. The whole abode had a sort of jumpy, scary feeling when he wasn't there.   Almost like things in the shadows knew Sean was vulnerable without his boyfriend to hide behind.

"Goddammit, Mark,"  he muttered under his breath, shutting the door behind him. "Why aren't ever here when I need you?"

Honestly, his boyfriend was the most dependable person he'd ever known. True, they had started out as "just friends"  but living together changed them. It made them uncover feelings they never knew they had. Sean knew he was just being selfish with his boyfriends time.

Sean set down his bag and took off his coat. Underneath, all he wore was a simple plain black tee shirt and ripped jeans. He wasn't emo or anything, he just liked the color black. "Sean, babe," he could hear Mark's deep voice in his head, "You'd wear black to our wedding. Don't give me bullshit about not being emo."

Mark always talked like they would get married someday. The Irish man admired and often fantasized about the way Mark made it seem like he would never hurt him. That was part of the reason the he loved his boyfriend so much.

The trauma hadn't started yet, so the Irish native kept thinking of Mark to slow the process. The pain would start eventually, that was inevitable. 

  Just think of Mark. Just focus. Deep breaths in and out.

Water, he thought wearily. Water would help.

He walked to their small kitchen set and opened a cabinet. Cups and plates were stacked precariously in the cabinet. Sean wanted to be annoyed because it was Mark's turn to do the dishes. But, that's when everything went to shit.

Sean felt himself reaching for a cup, his fingers curling around the smooth, cold glass, pulling it towards him, putting all his attention into that one simple task. His secret was very aggressive, making it difficult to do common things, like getting a glass of water.

Suddenly, he felt his control slipping. It was happening.

Not now, he cried out in his mind. No, no, no! Not fucking now, this is the worst fucking possible moment-

All at once, the control over his limbs was ripped away from him. He fell to the floor and the glass shattered.

That was when he knew it was all over.

The process wasn't slow, it was quicker than a wink, but that didn't make it any less painful. Sean's vision went fuzzy, the corners of his eyes tinged with black like he'd poured ink in them.

Hello Sean. It's been a while.

That voice. So innocent and dripping with deceit. He'd heard it so many times that he figured he should be used to it. But, no matter how many times he imagined Anti taking control of his functions, he was never prepared.

"Get...out....of....me!" Sean gasped, his fingernails scraping the countertop like a lifeline. If only he could pull himself up, if only he weren't so weak.

If only your precious Mark was here to protect you....

"Shut-" He tried to command, but Anti forced one of Sean's hands around his neck, so he was virtually choking himself.

Now, now. Don't say something you'll regret.

Anti had a firm grip, a death hold, if you will. Despite being halfway dead, seeing spots in his eyes, and begging himself to spare his own life, Sean was pretty calm about the whole situation. Anti's attacks were pretty frequent, about three times a week. Suffice to say, death was so common, Sean had gotten used to it. Actually, he'd gotten used to a lot of unnatural things.

Don't worry.  Anti taunted, You want death? Come and get it.

Sean's breaths came in short gasps, and when he tried to speak, Anti shoved his words back down his throat. It was torture, but at least Mark wasn't here to witness it. He was dying, and there was no one here to save him.

He was used to it, but he had a plan.

"Fuck....off...." he rasped.

Not a chance, Jackaboy.

Jackaboy. Sean's face heated in fury. Only Mark was allowed to call him that. This fury, this unrelenting anger was quickly directed into helping him defeat his secret. Slowly but surely, he reached his free hand up to the utensil drawer.

In fact...if fucking's what you want...I can give that to you.

Sean's hand froze. Now was definitely not the time to jerk off.

"You're not real!" he wheezed through constricted air pipes. "Impossible!"

I'll show you impossible.

Anti used his stolen hand to undo his prisoner's jeans.

"...Can't....y-you can't..." Sean's eyes widened.

Oh, but I can.

Despite trying to be Mark's one and only, he felt his face flushing. He had only masturbated with Anti once and that was long before his boyfriend was in his life. It was terrifying, and not just because Anti had used his own blood for lube.

"You DEMON!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. He moved his hand two inches closer to the drawer...

I'm your fucking demon, don't ever forget that! Ungrateful bitch! You created me, and you expect me to sit here and be your fucking plaything?!?

"No!" Sean was almost in tears. The drawer was open, and he was searching for a fork. If Anti caught him putting his plan into motion, he would have no chance of survival. He had to keep up the desperate act. "Just leave me alone!"

Fat chance, asshole...I'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to stand for a week. God, I'm going to eat you up. Just.....like......Mark.....

Now Anti had done it. He'd brung Mark into the equation, and that was worse than torture. Finally, his fingers grazed a mid-sized fork and he gripped it with all his might. Once Anti caught onto his plan, it was far too late.

"EAT THIS BLACK BASTARD!!!" Sean screamed, and then stabbed himself in the leg.

Black liquid oozed from the hole in his already ripped jeans. Anti's blood.

UNGRATEFUL WRETCH! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?!?

He smiled despite the throbbing in his thigh. It worked. His plan had worked. It was funny the way Anti worked. A certain amount of pain could deter his activity for a little while. Sean felt the essence of Anti slipping away, his midnight blood slowly turning crimson as his power depleted.

When Anti was finally completely cast out, Sean steadied his breathing and got to work cleaning up the glass. Just another day in the life of a normal Irish greenhead. As he swept, he imagined Mark would have a fit when he saw the mess he'd made.