An Act of Death [William T. Spears x Reader]

11 Color

"That is a lie." she hissed, pressing the blade harder. She felt a prickling against her skin as the edge threatened to puncture the skin. However, her arms were trembling. She briefly wondered in the back of her mind if she truly had what it took to go through with her threat. No-- entertaining such terrible doubts was pointless. All that was important was William. “You need me alive. I won’t pretend to understand what you’re doing with my blood, but I know you need a steady supply.”

“Oh? Are you willing to bet your life on that assumption?” Dr. Sheppard asked.

_______ didn’t miss a beat. “Kill him, and I won’t hesitate."

"Very well. I’ll let him live." Dr. Sheppard said, and the demon dropped William unceremoniously like luggage. Sheppard then approached her, slowly at first, before suddenly grasping her hand holding the scalpel. Leaning in, he tightened his hold with so much force that her wrist joint crackled. "Don't misinterpret this act of good will. I'm just not done with you quite yet."

* * *

For months, ______ had prayed she would see William again. But here, in the godforsaken space that was her cell, she realized how selfish her prayers had been. Guilt filled her as she realized that if it wasn't for her, none of this would've happened. 

She sat with her back against the bars and his head in her lap, using her night's ration of water and ragged blanket to gently wipe the blood clean from his face. Ironically enough, she was in far better physical condition than William. While she was weak from drugs and anemia, they had beaten him ruthlessly before tossing him in her cell, making sure he would lack the strength to fight back when he came to. In addition, the demon had crushed his glasses under his heel for good measure, disappointed that he really couldn’t kill him on the spot. ______ set down the cloth, grimacing as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. ‘It really is my fault… I’m sorry...’

He began to stir, startling her. She touched his shoulder with desperation, "William? Can you hear me?"

Chartreuse eyes shot open and what happened next occurred so quickly that she hadn’t the time to react or cry out. He grabbed her by the neck and slammed her down against the concrete floor so hard that her vision flickered. She went into an absolute panic, mouthing his name and trying to pry his hands off of her neck. But these attempts to get him off of her were in vain. His hold was too strong. 

Running out of air, she laxed. Suffocation truly was a bizarre feeling as a shinigami; while it couldn’t kill her, the lack of air emptied her mind, disconnecting her from all the physical pain she was feeling. And when she saw William’s face, she stopped trying to pry his hands away. His expression made it clear that he was terrified, confused, and cornered all at once. There was no mistake where his sudden burst of energy had come from: it was the strength of someone fighting to survive. It was fight or flight, and there was nowhere to go.

Even if the fight was over, and he didn’t know it.

“Isn’t it counterproductive to kill the damsel-in-distress yourself?” Dr. Sheppard mused from outside, his coat slung over his shoulder in the doorway. 

William gasped, immediately releasing his hold. Wide eyes looked down at her, but this time, the lack of focus in his gaze conveyed something she didn’t realize before. Him attacking her was more than sheer instinct: he was blind. It wasn’t a farfetched assumption that the person hovering over him when he came to was an enemy. The door closed, marking Sheppard’s leave. William’s voice sounded different than she remembered. “______?”

She touched her neck where he’d been strangling her, the skin throbbing. “It’s me. Are you okay? Can you move?”

“How can you ask that?” He whispered. “I nearly tried to…”