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Jack hated blood. The sharp, coppery scent always an immediate trigger to his nerves, blood meant danger.
Blood meant a scraped knee he could've prevented, a missing tooth that he should've painlessly pulled out, a stain on the spirit of those he wanted to protect.
He needed to protect. If he couldn't protect then what could he do? What greater purpose in this world did he serve?
Memories of his siblings flashed through his head, his eyes screwed shut. Their smiles, so carefree and devoid of any worry. Who was he if he couldn't preserve that?
"Remember, Jack." His grandfather had told him once, as they sat by the window late one evening. The old man had roused him from bed, still reeking of soot and oil, the product of a long day deep in the mines. "They need you. Your parents need you. Your gramma and I need you" He coughed, the sound hoarse.
Jack had looked at him with confusion, how could the beastman who seemed so indestructible need him? To Jack, the rows of paled scars and permanently dyed fur stood as proof of a life lived without fear, a body carved by battles he couldn’t understand.
He thought his grandfather seemed invincible to any opposing force, just like the spelldrive players he saw on TV! But that night, looking in those eyes set deep in wrinkles and tired from decades of toil to keep his family safe. Jack began to understand.
"I'll protect them..!" Jack had promised, standing from the bay seat, puffing himself up. "I will! I'll keep you all safe!" He'd declared, tail wagging.
His grandfather let out a rare, breathy laugh. He placed a hand on Jack's shoulders, nudging him to sit back down.
"Ey, your determination is truly admirable, my boy. But do not let your loyalty be confound to just our family." He said.
.
"Let it pull you where it's needed"
It pulled him to a slim, blond boy who'd introduced himself as Vil. Vil didn't need to be protected, he needed to be supported.
.
"Let it be one by those who persist for it"
Had his fellow first years truly been trying to earn his loyalty, or where they simply pestering him? Whatever the answer, he was rather annoyed by how they made him feel.
.
"But do not let it cloud your judgement"
Leona.. How could Leona do that? How could Ruggie do that? How could his entire dorm see no problem with it? Pieces clicked into place. How..? Why..?
Why didn't he realize it sooner? Why didn't he say something sooner?
All those people.. He could have protected them. But he didn't. Because he was too stupid. Too slow. Too cowardly.
His grandfather had taught him well, but it wasn't until years later that Jack finally began to grasp the meaning of his words.
Jack would always protect those he cared about, stay loyal to those he supported, he wasn't so sure about looking up to those he respected. Was he wrong for clinging to his naive hope that maybe Leona would one day correct the errors of his ways and recognize him as the directive?
.
Maybe he was wrong for it, because Leona hadn't shown a single sign of changing. Even though Jack had admired him. Respected him. Maybe even idolized him a little. Perhaps the blame fell on him for putting the housewarden on such a high pedestal.
Maybe Leona would never change but, by the Seven, did the image of him violently vomiting sand and blood turn his body to an icicle. He hated blood. He wanted him to.
Because maybe, if he had, he would've already came and saved Jack by now.
.
"Stay awake, traitor." A cruel voice ordered from above him. A tiger beastman circled as if he were inspecting prey.
Jack’s vision blurred at the edges, the world shrinking to the rhythmic throb of pain in his ribs and the cold, gritty bite of sand against his cheek. The tiger beastman’s shadow loomed over him, broad and heavy, like a storm cloud ready to break.
“I said stay awake,” the voice repeated, dripping with disdain, this time, the words were followed by a swift kick to his ribs.
Jack forced his eyes open with a harsh wince. He forced his breathing to steady. He forced himself not to flinch at the scent, blood, sharp and metallic, clinging to the back of his throat. His own, this time. Not someone else’s. That should’ve made it easier.
It didn't.
"Not so high and mighty now, huh?" A second voice jeered, belonging to a panther beastman who knelt beside him.
Jack only glared at him.
"That's what I thought," He scoffed.
"Of course he's not, doesn't have a Heartslabyul lap to sit on!" Another harsh kick was delivered to his side.
"Don't get me started about that!" The tiger beastman snarled, resting his shoed foot on the center of his back. "You know, Howl.. That day on the spelldrive field.. I thought Leona was wrong." He said. "You wouldn't last in Heartslabyul, because you don't even remember the first rule of the pack."
He shifted his foot.
"Traitors are to be," He ground his heel between Jack's shoulder blades.
"Removed."
With a final cheer of agreement from the small crowd, the leader brought his foot down square the center of his shoulders.
It took Jack a moment to realize the animalistic cry of pain came from him. A score of cheers followed, laughing and mocking.
Jack tried to move but was brought down by another well-placed stomped.
"Stay down." Someone ordered.
The tiger beastman continued:
"Did you really-" STOMP.
"Think we'd let you just waktz around the dorm-" STOMP.
"After what you did?" STOMP.
Jack had bitten his tongue in his crazed thrashing, the metallic taste flooding his mouth as he tried to twist away from the next stomp. His body jerked instinctively, muscles firing on pure adrenaline. Another impact drove the air from Jack’s lungs, forcing a strangled sound out of him.
The crowd roared.
Jack’s ears rang.
He pushed against the sand, trying to get his knees under him, but a heavy boot slammed down on his shoulder, pinning him like a struggling animal.
“Stay. Down.”
The command cracked like a whip.
His arms trembled violently as he tried to free them from their binds.
“Look at him,” Someone jeered. “Still trying.”
“Pathetic,” Another spat.
Jack’s tail twitched weakly, tucked against his body, his ears pinned flat.
He watched the tiger raise his form.
Jack squeezed his eyes shut.
He wasn’t afraid of the pain.
He was afraid of what it meant.
Afraid that maybe they were right.
Afraid that maybe he had lost his place.
The foot came down..
.
But it never hit.
It pounded into the floor beside him.
"Let this be a lesson." The tiger hissed, "To not forget what you are."
Jack wanted to say something, but the bile and blood had mixed to create a sticky residue in his throat. He collapsed back down.
The tiger stepped back, though not before giving him one last kick, satisfied. “Let’s go,” he barked to the others. “He’s learned his place.”
The pressure around him lifted as the crowd dispersed, leaving only the thundering of Jack’s heartbeat.
Jack stayed where he was, forehead pressed to the ground, breath shaking.
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there.. Seconds? Minutes? It was all bleeding together. But eventually, he forced his eyes open. Forced his fingers to curl. Forced his body to move, even if only an inch.
He was alive.
He had to get up.
He would get up.
He pushed himself to his feet, swaying as he walked towards his room. As he did he reached up and rubbed his mouth, his hand came back covered in scarlet.
Jack hated blood.
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