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A shrill scream ripped through the cold air of the torture room. It was followed by a loud sob from the curled up form on the floor and sharp glitched giggling from Chase's torturer.

Chase looked as if he had gone through better days. His torso was filled with open and closed carved words of puppet, mine and Anti's name (those ones were engraved even a lot deeper than the other ones). On his chest was a burned brand from the hot poker that Anti had used in one of his sessions that took the form of Anti's name placed over the spot where his heart is. The father hated looking at himself in mirrors now, the marks reminding him of his place and who he belongs to.

Tears mixed in with his blood as they streamed down his cheeks from his constant crying and sobbing. Busy as he was with trying to deal with the pain, he didn't even notice Anti stepping over to crouch down next to his pitiful form. He reached over with one of his clawed hands and cupped Chase's cheeks almost tenderly as he turned Chase's face to look at him.

Tearful baby blues were pinned on the spot by hungry acid green eyes.

"W-Why?" Chase's voice was hoarse, wrecked from his nonstop screaming and begging.

Anti gave him a smile, a smile that you could almost call kind if it weren't for the hungry and manic gleam in his eyes. He leaned closer, bumping their foreheads softly (Chase was far too tired to even cringe away from the invasion of his personal space) and leaned even closer. The demon's body was practically pinning the younger ego's to the floor, his weight pressing down on all sorts of wounds, making Chase wail softly from the action.

More tears and pain filled his beautiful blue eyes.

"Oh Chase, don't you know?" Anti breathed against Chase's lips, a hand reaching up to catch one of the tears falling. Then he whispered, almost with a reverential tone, "You look absolutely exquisite when you're crying."