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trigger warning

This chapter contains implications of domestic abuse and rape. It also contains depictions of bulimia. Please skip to the first '#' if you feel that you might be affected in a bad way by such content.

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Nikolai walked inside his house. He closed the door behind him and took off his shoes, setting aside his cane and turning around.

A bottle of diamohjin crashed into the door, an inch away from his head. He blinked and stepped back.

"Late again!" The furious bellow echoed in his ears and he flinched. "Where have you been? Have you seen the time?"

Nik didn't dare look up. "I was at a gathering for Chessmasters. I informed Mish before I left."

His grandfather snorted. "Misha hasn't been in a condition to talk," he said, and Nik's heart clenched. "Go make me some food, you brat."

Nik nodded. He took off his coat and hung it on the stand near the door, turning. He watched his grandfather retreat into the recesses of the house, hatred making his blood boil and fists clench.

Nik hobbled into the kitchen. He picked up a knife and started chopping vegetables, listening to the muffled noises that made it past the door of his grandfather's room, self-loathing eating up his charred heart.

"Dinner's ready!"

"About time." His grandfather emerged from the darkness of the hallway, smug and sated as he tottered to the kitchen. Nik looked past him and made out the outline of his sister's small frame as she shuffled out of the master bedroom, hunched in on herself.

Nik grabbed his coat from the coat-stand, walking to her and draping it over her shoulders and chest. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her. Misha's tears dampened his shirt, and his eyes burned. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Misha nodded, wrapping her small arms around his waist. He stroked her hair and let her pull herself together.

Dinner was quiet. Misha sat close to Nik, across their grandfather. Nik couldn't swallow more than a few bites, the empty chair next to him making grief and agony clog up his throat.

"Why aren't you eating?" Romanov noticed his full plate when his own was empty.

"I'm not hungry," Nik said, toneless.

His grandfather's eyes bulged. "What did you say? Trying to starve yourself again?"

"No, I'm just not hungry."

"Don't lie to me!" Romanov slapped him so hard his glasses flew off. "You know what'll happen if you lose a chess match again, right? Better not compromise on your energy, Nikolai." The last word was a long slur, and Nik closed his eyes. His hands shook. He knew what'd happen if he lost a match again. Misha's cry made his eyes fly open as terror filled his lungs. Romanov had grabbed her long brown hair. "Eat, brat, or it'll be her paying the price for your stupid tantrums."

Misha's terrified gaze met Nik's, glassy with shock from before and wide with fear. Nik swallowed, shaking. "I'll eat," he said, stammering out the words. "Please don't." His voice cracked.

"That's what I thought." Romanov released Misha's hair and crossed his arms, his smile smug. Nik looked down at his food, forcing down each bite even as bile burned his throat. His hand shook every time he raised the spoon to his lips and his head spun with fear and nausea.

"That's a good boy," Romanov said with pride when the torture was over and Nik's plate was spotless. "We can't have you starving yourself now, can we? How will you focus on your chess matches then?" He stood up, his grin broad and sickening. "Go to your rooms now, both of you. Have a good night's sleep." He swayed and tottered out of the room.

Silence ensued, thick and suffocating. "Are you okay?" Mish asked, at last, taking his hand. She picked up his glasses and handed them to him, peering at him as he put them on again.

"I'm okay," Nik said. He cupped her cheek, covering the fresh bruise on it. "Are you?"

Misha leaned into his touch. "I am now," she said, and her smile eased away all his worries.

Nik threw up in the sink when he got back to his room, emptying out every morsel of the food he'd forced down his throat. He grabbed his toothbrush and stuck it into his mouth when the heaving stopped, forcing himself to ensure that none of that accursed food was left in his stomach. His throat and eyes burned with bile and shame, and his vision spun.

When he made to walk, weakness made him wobble and he limped out of the bathroom, shivering in the cold. Sinking down on his bed, he raised his shirt and checked his bandages. They were spotless.

Nik reached over to his nightstand and put his glasses on it. His gaze fell on the photograph on it and he flipped it down before he could stare at it. He couldn't look; he'd already emptied all the contents of his stomach.

Nik lay down, still shivering. He pulled a quilt over himself and stared at the ceiling. His throat burned still, and he swallowed past the dryness. He could hear Misha crying in the next room. It was going to be a long night.

#

By the time morning arrived, Nik's skin was burning with a fever. He stumbled out of bed and brushed his teeth. His stomach growled the way it had been doing for most of the night, and his knees wobbled.

Swaying, Nik grabbed onto the sink. His hair fell into his eyes, and he stared at himself in the mirror.

He'd lost weight. His face was thin and sickly. The scar on his face almost blended with his pale skin and his eyes were shadowed with dark circles and a faint bruise from last night. He picked up concealer from his sink and worked to hide the bruise and the bags beneath his gaze.

When he was done, Nik changed and shuffled out of the bedroom. Misha was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. She hummed along to some tune as she worked. He leaned against the counter because his legs weren't steady and watched her.

She didn't notice him for a while, but finally did when she turned to pick up something. Her eyes widened when they fell on his face. "Nik!" She hurried to him, reaching up and cupping his cheek. "You're burning up! What happened?"

He didn't have the heart to tell her that he'd thrown up again, so pulled her hand off his face and held it instead. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not!" Misha grabbed his hand and dragged him to the table, pulling out a chair for him. "Sit!"

Nik sank onto the chair with some relief; he didn't think he'd be able to stand for much longer. Misha turned to the stove and returned a moment later with a bowl of hot soup. "Eat." She crossed her arms.

Stuck under his sister's watchful eye, Nik picked up his spoon and took a sip. The soup was warm and delicious and he found himself digging in for once, starving. Misha served herself some soup and sat across him, smiling between spoonfuls.

Their grandfather walked in when Nik was sated. "Eating, boy?" He ruffled Nik's hair. "Good. What's your agenda for today?"

"We'll be heading to the hideout," Nik said, fisting his hands in his lap. "I'll practice chess with Mikhael there."

"Excellent! That's my boy!" Romanov thumped his back and sat down. Misha served the old man soup and retreated to the hallway. Nik pushed himself to his feet and followed.

"Are you sure about this?" Misha asked him once they were outside. "You're burning up, Nik. You should rest."

Nik shook his head; he couldn't handle the thought of closing his eyes and falling asleep. "I'm fine, Mish. Don't worry about me."

Mikhael was waiting outside the hideout when the arrived. "The old man's been waiting," he said when Nik jumped off his horse, and the two strode into the building.

"Finally," Immanuel said when Nik and Mikhael entered his office. "I thought you'd never arrive." He frowned and peered at Nik's face. "You sick, boy?"

"Just a slight cold," Nik said, dismissing the weakness in his bones. "What's up?"

"Sit." Immanuel was still frowning, but for a different reason entirely. "Our men found some data about the stadium attack. Turns out, the men who attacked that place were the same who ambushed you the other night. But that's not all. These men are not only after your life. They've got Azaelya Mae in their sights as well."

* * *

Anyone else scared for our dear Mae? 'Cause I totally am! :/

Who hates Nik's grandfather? (me!) If you found it too extreme, the door's this way. No, but seriously. Don't say I didn't warn you, 'cause I totally did and it's gonna get more extreme from here onwards. So if you think this kinda stuff isn't your cup of tea, please exit right now.

Whew! That was hard. What type of writer asks their readers to reconsider/stop reading anyways?

So, thoughts? What do you think is going to happen next? Who remembered that little detail about Nik's grandfather from the synopsis and totally saw this coming? Or were you totally caught by surprise? Tell me what you think!

*looks for an assassin to take out Romanov Elric*

See ya!

Next part: 28 January at 6:30 pm IST. Stay tuned!

Here's a little hint: "Do you want my money or my skills? Or is it my body that you seek?"