BEAST

The second Sloth let go of my wrist, I was somewhere else. With his touch went reality and I quickly found myself in one of his wretched dreams.

I had been here more times than I could remember through jokes and pranks.

This was neither of them.

At first, it was difficult to tell the difference between real life and the dreams Sloth wove through minds.

But all dreams have a tell.

The edges would always blur like ruffled pages—like a memory; the colours became brighter—brighter and luminous as though my mind itself was glowing.

I was on the landing outside Pandora's room. It was the same landing I knew—pale marble slabs encasing the floor, rich daylight flooding in through the windows, and rooms lining the walls on either side.

Something was off.

I felt myself skid along the floor, slipping against a thick liquid. Bright red was smeared beneath my feet, tainting the pale slabs of marble in the deepest shade of crimson. My heart careened in my chest as I whirled around.

"Pandora?"

Dreams could not kill us. They could not hurt us.

But they could make us hurt ourselves.

"Pandora!"

•••
PANDORA

My Vessel scratched and pawed against my bones, its complaints growing louder and louder in my ears. Sloth's Sin could only affect me.

Not my Vessel.

The Vessel crawled loose from behind my ribcage, its inky swirls racing down my arms in a pattern of desperation. The black pigment spread abnormally fast, curling around my wrists and fingers. Power radiated through me—it was consuming and the only thing it wouldn't destroy in its path was me.

I wiped the back of my hand across my cheek, forcing myself to my feet.

I had to find Sloth—that son of a bitch.

And more than that, I had to remind myself that Beast had not killed me—I'd only dreamt of it. And dreams were not real, this was not real.

The corpse in the room was still there, bleeding and lifeless. I didn't let myself look at her as I tread around the puddle of blood to check the other rooms. Each room seemed to take shape only when I turned to look at it. Before my eyes laded on the mundane furniture, it was always a blur in my peripheral vision—there, but not quite.

My Vessel wound its way down my legs, hauling my steps from room to room—corridor to corridor.

"Sloth!" I called.

The only answer was an echo of my voice.

Sloth.

I froze when the echoes continued. I dared not move an inch as the walls called back amongst themselves, repeating my words back and forth. The doors, the walls, the furniture—everything seemed to mock and repeat after me in a taunt.

Sloth. Sloth, Sloth, Sloth.

"Sloth, where are you?"

Sloth, where are you?

My voice bounced around, filling the dream in a wave of noise. It was the only thing I could hear. The more I called, the louder the echoes became until my voice filled each room I searched.

Beneath the buzz of the echoes, beneath the hum of my voice, there was a low vibration. The sound trembled through the echoes, reaching out to my ears.

"Pandora?"

Suddenly, the echoes felt silent.

I would recognise that voice anywhere. It was the voice that rattled through my soul; it was the voice that soothed me. It was the voice of the man that had stabbed me.

Not me, I reminded myself.

"Pandora!"

The urge to run tensed through me. I didn't know if I could die in this dream—if Beast would kill me this time instead of another version of me. Perhaps this time it wouldn't be a dagger; perhaps this time it would be his fingers curling around my throat, or perhaps he would push me down a flight of stairs. I would fall, screaming out in agony to my death.

BEAST

She was close. I could feel her; at every turn I made, her scent lingered in the air, strong enough to drive me mad with desire. A growl tore through my chest as my Sin nudged at me, aching to spiral free and take control.

A figure blurred past me, hurdling an object toward me with dangerous speed. I ducked smoothly out of the way and the vase splintered sharply as it fell to the ground. The dark blue shattered ceramic was almost black, the same colour as the Vessel that had wound around Pandora's skin.

I had never seen her Vessel spread so far—it was darker than the pitch of a night sky and the designs shifted with her every movement.

I tugged her into me. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breaths shallow as she fought against my hold.

"I don't know why you're here—,"

I interrupted her, pinning her hands behind her back with one of mine. "Listen to me."

I had to help Pandora out of here—out of her nightmare. Pain was scrawled over her expression; it was all I could do not to tug her closer, to kiss her, to whisper in her hear that everything would be alright.

Because I couldn't make that promise. The woman in my arms wasn't mine to love, she wasn't mine to cherish and that thought was enough to make me tighten my hold on her.

"—in my dream—,"

"Pandora," I said, louder.

Her eyes were glazed over in fear. "—but please—,"

"Listen to me," I said again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. My touch seemed to make her freeze and I watched as her skin turned pale.

"Please don't kill me," she whispered.

Every fibre of my being turned cold. "Kill you?"

"You stabbed me," she gasped. "You stabbed me."

"Stabbed you? What?"

The realisation hit me like a harsh slap. The blood on the floor had been Pandora's. She'd bled after dreaming of me killing her—she'd done the only thing nightmares could make us do.

She'd hurt herself.

I looked down at her clothes. Two, thick crimson lines were cut through her white dress, the stain spreading through the fabric like veins.

She'd stabbed herself only because she thought I was capable of killing her, of hurting her.

"It was you," she said. "You killed me."

I had to force myself to breathe. "Why would you think I'd want to kill you?"

It was a stupid question—it was a question that laid me out bare to her. Gone was the mask I'd tide to keep bound over my emotions, gone was the neglect and carelessness I had treated her with.

She didn't spare a second—the answer came rapidly to her. "Because you hate me."

I shook my head slowly. "No."

"Yes, you do. You hate me so much you can't look at me. And I," she trembled, "I don't know why." Shaking, she dropped her head against my shoulder.

I eased her wrists out of my hold to rub small circles over her skin. My brother was a man of sinful laziness; he had no will to stick around in someone else's dream and run from them. To escape Sloth's lair, you only had to do one thing.

You had to fall asleep.

You had to catch your own Sloth.

"I don't hate you," I murmured against her cheek.

She took in a sharp breath. "I can't believe I love someone that hates me." The air was knocked out of my lungs as she continued. "I can't believe I'm dreaming, I don't want to be dreaming."

Her body fell limp against mine with sleep.

•••

Aaa the confession!! How do you think Beast will react if he reacts at all?

Leave a vote if you enjoyed <3

Love,
Laila.