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trigger warning: self-harm
but not too much of a trigger cos hes using magic anyway
Vincenzo watched the man do nothing. He did not fight back, and he hardly seemed to try and get up. His body was hunched on the floor from being knocked down, his legs and back folding into his torso like he was trying to regress to the period before he was born; get into fetal position, cry for mommy. It heated Enzo’s face, adrenaline and blood pumping through his body while he looked for some semblance of a man who would return a damn punch.
He crossed his arms in front of his face, and Vincenzo found himself hitting his forearm instead of his face, causing more pain in his knuckles, glistering red with blood he had not seen before.
From his peripheral vision, he noticed Nic’s fingers clench together, and even though he was not scared, he was ready for something. Finally, the man would do himself a favor and defend himself so Vincenzo embraced it, pumped by confidence and readiness for the blow he was going to face.
But nothing, nothing. Nothing was happening.
What did he think? That if he didn’t fight back against Vinnie, he could charge him for assault? He couldn’t do that, he wouldn’t let him try. If he had to, Vincenzo was going to keep hitting him until he had the courage to return the favor, he refused to be the only guy with blood on his hands yet again.
He was doing that weakling a favor, hitting him again and again, moving around his useless dodging arm and hitting him where he was unguarded. On his fingers, he felt ribs, and the center of the man’s chest. Vincenzo was losing his aim, beginning to hit blindly wherever his hands landed. He hit him in the stomach, jolting his body where he seemed like he was losing his ability to even process what was happening to him.
Was it bad how much Vincenzo loved the sight of that?
He knew that he was winning, so he strengthened the weight behind his punches, and hit him in the stomach harder. And again. Two more, targeted times where he felt the vulnerable shape of his weak abdomen concave the soft fabric of his disordered clothing around his hard fist.
Under the last impact, Nic coughed, and blood shot from his mouth to his shirt. He got what he wanted; blood for his sacrifice. Vincenzo retracted, pulling himself away to realize how many fearful faces watched him now, just like that court room years ago. His knuckles were throbbing, and Nic’s nose bled, his breaths were shaky and shallow. Tomorrow there would probably be green bruises all over his abdomen. Inside Enzo’s chest, he felt an ache that was not from any physical injury but from sorrow for Dominic.
He swallowed.
On the bright side, if Nic was the only one bleeding, there was another secret of Vinnie’s that no one had to find out today.
“Do you think you’re a hero? Do you think you’re better than me because you have some apparent self-control?” Vincenzo grunted. “Because you’re the one on the floor,” he continued, watching Dominic’s light-headed body sink lower and lower, his head inching toward the carpet that would soon be stained red.
Enzo pushed the man’s body a bit further back, so his feet could stop slipping and his neck would be bent where he could no longer sink, forced to face him. “I didn’t even need support from them to take you down,” his hands signaled back to the men at his back. “Do you know how-” He stopped, realizing how dumb he would look yelling at a man who looked basically dead. “You’re embarrassing.”
No matter how much it costed him sometimes, Vincenzo had to remind himself why he acted the way he did, what it took to leave his old life behind.
“Some advice; you’re not a hero, as much as you try and justify yourself. Whoever told you to turn the other cheek just said that so they could hurt you again.” And he said it looking into Nic’s eyes but he was saying it to himself, too. The boys; some of them needed to hear that as much as Nic did. The whole situation seemed like a metaphor of sorts. In this room, Dominic had been the kindest person, and he had failed the test of his initiation, and at Wyndham as a whole, the top students were the people no one could locate. And Vincenzo, as cynical as he was, was perfectly safe from all of that because he prioritized nothing before himself. Not school, not his morals, not his friends, either; or at least that was what he liked to tell himself.
“And don’t think anyone here is going to defend you if you try speaking up now,” Vincenzo spoke bitterly, trying to believe his words because he could not afford getting reported again. The hard truth was that since Dominic didn’t fight back, the initiation really did count as assault. And although it wasn’t nearly as bad as what he did last time, he made a reaction formation hoping no one would find out about this, and he wouldn’t be at risk of being incarcerated again. The majority of the upperclassmen were loyal to him, and they were friends, but he didn’t know if the smooth-brained freshmen would give it a try to talk to the headmaster. He was terrified of getting caught. He would hate to see anyone else finding out about this.
Luckily, Vincenzo was a bit reassured when Bradford came to Dominic’s side, placing a small vial beneath the man’s nostril as promised. All he needed was one drop before pulling away, going off to one of the other rooms.
After he was slightly cleaned up, Vincenzo extended out his hand, and used his to pick himself and Nic up to where they stood face to face. His body still appeared frail, like his legs could wobble, so Vincenzo still held onto his wrist, helping to stabilize him before his words let him down.
“You failed your first test, Nic, so you may be a technical part of Adrian Dear’s umbra coven, but we don’t take in weaklings to the brotherhood. If you want to join us; you’re gonna have to prove yourself.” He breathed, letting go of Dominic’s wrist and looking into his pained eyes. Uneasy from the sight of them, Vincenzo turned his head to the side.
Looking lightheaded, Chadwick stabilized his body before he could fall, and then took Dominic over to the makeshift Umbra kitchen where he could get frozen peas for the soreness, and Vincenzo headed toward the hallway for a brief intermission. Most of the guys would probably just think he was taking another smoke break.
“I’ll be back out soon, boys, let’s get this sh^t started,” he said, and then opened and shut the door behind him.
Outside in the long, dark hallway, Vincenzo spun his wrist with two pointed fingers, summoning a whirlwind of shadows. He placed himself in straight in between the walls, and wordlessly instructed the dark figures to come near him, one of them pushing back one side of his shoulder. And with no words, the shadow winds spun and slapped where they hit his face hard. A few of them only disheveled his appearance, and some others hit him in the gut, one straight in the eye. He winced in pain, but forced himself to stand back up and endure it. He needed to be bruised, too.
They knocked him to where he bent his spine inwards, and at the next swing he gathered the strength to raise his hand and push the shadows off, their grey hues pulverizing when they hit the wall, and falling down beneath the floor. He had made sure not to hurt himself too much to where it seemed like the fight had been equal, just enough to make himself suffer.
If he had left the previous scene unscathed, he no longer looked the part. He felt buzzing soreness in his eye and knew it was swelling up more, and if he touched the skin of his lip it would feel thin and breakable. He knew he had to return to the sleepover, but he didn’t want to. His friends were going to know he was hurting himself again, which never got any easier to admit, so he took a breather and leaned back against the wall beside the Umbra entrance, exhaling downward as he looked at the floor, the outline of his silhouette crowding the view.
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@idiot.exe Dominic
@Tina.G Oggy
@astxrism soon maybe