40: A Final Sacrifice

You cry until your tears run dry. Your muscles shake until they're exhausted. Not once does Levi's grip ease up. Throughout the night, he holds you in a crippling, painful silence.

Before the sun rises, your half-sleeping mind tells your hand to check on the vice around your waist. Drifting a palm down to your belly, you touch your jacket and realize that the fierce embrace is gone. Like echoes from his strength, your muscles are tender and your skin bruised where he once held you. Dull pain reverberates when you feel the area.

Your eyes are closed. You think to open them, but you also prefer the idea of slipping back into nonexistence. Opening your eyes means facing reality; it's better to delay that option for now.

There's a gust of breath on your ear. Lazily, your mind reactivates its sense of hearing to accept the words offered.

"Ten minutes," Levi's low tone murmurs. "You won't even notice I'm gone. Ten minutes, and we'll be free."

His words take very long to process. They enter your mind, one at a time, forcing their way through a wall of drowsiness. You mentally read them, over and over, while you send several signals to your eyelids to open.

They don't. You eventually shelve the words and drop back into slumber.

The next time you wake, voices from beyond your door waft into your ear. Coarse voices, filled with anger and betrayal. They're yelling, scoffing, huffing.

"—sense of loyalty, runt—"

"Loyalty? You think I ever wanted to be loyal to you?!"

"You know your heritage as well as I do. Ackermans are meant to—"

"Fuck that. Fuck the Ackerman name—I don't give two shits about my fucking last name."

"It's your mother's name too, dumbass."

"Quit bringing her up like that's a goddamn factor. Quit acting like our blood has anything to do with this. I'm sorry you're pathetic—that you're so desperate to keep your nephew around because you're a lonely piece of shit. Just because I'm your only relative left does not mean you get to own me."

"You're so fucking stupid," Kenny's voice gnarls. "I'm all you have left too, kid."

Sitting up in bed, you wonder if you ought to alert them that you're awake. The door's still locked; Kenny must've let Levi out sometime recently before caging you again.

"There's a woman in that room there that completely contradicts that." Levi speaks strongly, backed by dogged, almost blind arrogance. "I know you miss Mom, but that doesn't give you the right to chain me up and pretend like we're a happy family. Find some other way to mourn—quit hurting others with your stupid grief."

"You don't know a damn thing about—"

"And I'm not interested in learning. I'm going to take her, and we're going to leave. I should've done this on day one."

"Kid—"

"Are you honestly going to stop me? Count that fucking cash—you should be rejoicing."

"You think some money is enough?"

"Fuck no. But you don't have any choice but to take it." Levi's steps move fast, darting into the backroom. "If you think about stopping me, I'll make sure you can never take advantage of me again."

"Don't touch that door, runt. We're not done talking."

Levi ignores him, his body pressing against your door. "Intern," he murmurs, his voice momentarily painted over with concern. "I'm getting you out of here. Are you awake?"

You gasp. "Levi—"

You hear Levi's body get torn away from the door, sent crashing into a stack of shelves.

"Did you not hear me?" Kenny snaps.

Levi's tone resumes its aggressive sting, unfettered by the assault on his body. "I said you don't have a choice, Kenny. Keep beating the shit out of me if it'll make your sorry ass feel better."

"What the fuck happened to you?" Footsteps litter the ground, then bodies clash again, and both men grunt and curse as they scuffle. "Oh, you pathetic martyr. Don't just fucking stand there."

"Are you going to hit me again? Get on with it."

"You're such a coward."

"Get on with it. You clearly don't have any issue harassing innocent, defenseless people. Hit me, jackass."

"What's your master plan, runt?" Heavy weight is jostled then thrown aside, an entire human body crashing to the floor.

"Thought you would've figured it out," Levi huffs, the sounds of a beaten but prideful animal. "Guess you were pretty fucking distracted, though."

"You—"

There's a click that sends Kenny silent, the sound of a gun's hammer cocked back.

You hold your breath.

It's quiet for a moment, the tension strained and the air still. You can only imagine what's going on beyond that door—Levi with a gun, Kenny perhaps on the other end.

"Stole it right off me, sneaky rat," Kenny murmurs. "Do you even know how to use a scary weapon like that?"

"I can pull a trigger as well as anyone else." Levi shifts, probably picking himself off the ground. "And you've got this damn thing fully loaded. Doesn't matter—shouldn't take more than six shots to kill someone."

Kenny scoffs. "Held at gunpoint is routine for me. Is this really your threat behind 'you have no choice'? Killing me?"

"You'd want that," Levi mocks. "I'd never let you think you'd get an answer as easy as death. No—I know what you really don't want to lose."

You have no clue what Levi's doing, but whatever it is makes Kenny curse in shock.

"You fuckin' lunatic—"

"Don't take another step closer. Don't."

"You wouldn't seriously—"

"Try me, Kenny!" Levi roars. "Being under you is worse than death. I'll take this damn bullet before I even think about spending another minute in this horrible place."

Your eyes go wide, finally catching up to the mental image Levi's describing. The gun's no longer pointed at his uncle—it makes you sick to imagine what exactly Levi is threatening.

"You are so fucking crazy," Kenny mutters, his teeth gritted.

"Maybe."

Footsteps again, back to your door. Levi wrenches the bolt off and opens up your cell. "Intern," he calls.

He looks terrible. His eyes are furrowed with deep bags underneath them and his black hair is damp with sweat. There's a tremble in his hands as he stiffly holds the gun at his side, keeping its muzzle pointed at the floor. He's glaring at you, his eyes reeling you in like a hook in a fish. It hurts, but it also wants you so badly.

"Levi," you say, but your voice is a cracked whisper.

"Let's get going." He jerks his head to the shop's entrance. "We're free. Take my hand and let's get out of here."

You take weak steps to the doorway and peek at Kenny. "We—there's no way—"

"Just go," Kenny grunts. "Fuckin' go. You're an idiotic maniac anyway, Levi. You'd get both of us killed if you stayed here any longer."

"Come on." Levi's voice has that soft quality to it, absolutely absent of hostility when talking to you. "My car's right out front."

"But..." You stare at your hand, suddenly held by Levi's. "I...I can't believe—"

"Don't worry about it right now. Let's just get outside."

Levi tugs, and you follow. It's a slow pace, one wherein you're dumbfounded and Levi is gentle about guiding his hostage to freedom. It's hard to look at Kenny as you go.

In the main area of the shop, Levi takes you from behind the glass counter where a clean briefcase has been left on the counter. You don't recognize that case from anywhere in the shop.

The windchimes bid a soft farewell as Levi pushes open the front door. You squint in the sunlight, your eyes burning from radiant rays bouncing off the melted snow on the asphalt. You've forgotten how bright the world can be.

"What?" you breathe, comprehending a complete paradox that fills you with doubt. "Why—why do we get to leave?"

"Because your owner is a stubborn idiot," Kenny answers as he comes to the doorway.

Instinctively, Levi puts a hand on the small of your back and keeps himself between you and the enemy.

"Not even a goodbye?" Kenny chucks out the question in a joking tone, a wry smile cranking up the corners of his lips. "Come on, kid. We might as well part with some flair."

"I have nothing to say to you," Levi spits. "I never wanted this—and I never will. This is not the life Mom wanted for me."

"You're not the same. Not cut out for adult shit anymore." Kenny waits until you cast a timid glance over your shoulder, giving you a sickening smile as a parting gift. "Missy, you know you made him a weak child, right? I almost envy your talent for manipulating him."

"I'm glad she did." Levi defends himself before you can step in. "I'd rather be like this than be like you. I'll make sure to stay with her, so she can keep manipulating me into being soft and weak." With a push, he ushers you to his car.

"Kid!" Kenny calls to his nephew.

"What?" Levi snaps back, his pace unstopping.

From the doorway, you hear Kenny's voice for—you hope—the last time. "I'll always be at this shop, runt. Come visit whenever you'd like—especially if you change your mind."

"I," Levi starts, his voice firm with thickened anger, "hope to never see your face again."

"Mmhmm. 'Bye, Levi."

Levi yanks the door of his sedan open and pushes you in, then sprints to throw himself into his side. He locks the doors, starts the engine, and takes off without a single look back.

You're lost in fog for several minutes, confused and scared and struggling to feel free in any sense.

Squinting, you see a paper bag by your feet, inside which lies your phone. Taking the device, you open it to see almost a week's worth of notifications pending your review. Texts, emails, push reminders—all of it left unanswered by a kidnapped woman.

"Where'd you get this?" It's not the most pressing question to ask, but it's the first that pops into your head.

"Kenny held on to your stuff—I got it back from him this morning." Levi drives cautiously, his eyes checking every corner of his surroundings.

Indeed, the bag also holds your wallet and keys. Returning them to your person, you remember what it's like to be a functioning person, part of society.

"Why did he let me go?"

On the highway, Levi sits with stiff posture and fingernails digging into the steering wheel. He doesn't look at you, dead set on navigating the road ahead. "I paid back my debt."

"Your tuition debt?"

"...Yeah."

That must've been a substantial amount, yet it seems like a rather simple bargaining chip. Kenny's lost his leverage over Levi in exchange for money—whatever the amount, it must've been enough to balance the scales.

"That's all it took?"

"Yes." He puts the word out, listening to it in his own voice. After a moment, he slumps back in his seat with a single, lazy hand resting on the wheel. He shakes his head. "Well, not entirely. You heard us. I convinced him that I wouldn't help him with anything else, and then paid him."

"That's it?"

"More or less." Taking his eyes off the road, he chances a look at you beside him and seems quite pleased with the sight. Free from malice, he drinks you in as though a real celebrity is sitting in his car right now. Content, he returns his gaze to the road and allows a perfect little smirk to grace his lips.

Furrowing your brow, you wonder where on earth he decides to make a face like that. You also think that if he presented himself a little differently, this smirk is a good indication of what a smile on his face would look like. It's a curious fantasy that you save for a later time.

"What?" you question, your caution piqued.

"We left behind a loser and a moron," he declares, that smug look stuck on his face. "He's brainless if he thinks we made anything near a fair deal."

Protecting yourself, you cross your arms to withstand his insult before it comes. "Yeah, right: I'm sure a hostage is worth way less than what you gave him."

"Are you kidding?" He almost asks as though he's genuinely fearing for your mental competency. "He fucked up hard. You are worth so much more than what I gave him—he should've known that. Five times—no, even ten times the amount. If he had demanded that, I would've paid. That shithead didn't grasp the fact that you are fucking priceless and I would've stopped at nothing to get you back."

Your heart pings around your chest like it's in a pinball machine, all while your mind fruitlessly tries to remember how terrible, awful, and horrific Levi is. The forces contrast against each other as his speech wraps you in a blanket of confusing comfort.

"That—um..."

"But he is a greedy fucking pig that wanted money, so I gave him crumbs and he celebrated. I have you back, finally, and he'll never bother us again."

"Really?" you wonder. "Will he truly never come back?"

"Never." Levi's so certain that you don't even think to doubt him. "I told him that I'd rather be dead than follow him forever. If following him means you hate me...well, fuck. I wasn't going to live a life like that."

It grows harder to dislike him with every word he offers. He'd rather die than live with your hatred—extreme, maybe, but no doubt truthful. The weight of his life rests is a heavy, precarious burden to carry.

"But we don't need to think about him anymore," he says. "Just relax for now. I'm taking you home."

You don't have much to say for the rest of the journey. He brings you to your apartment complex and even walks you to your unit, though he slows to a stop outside the door.

It takes several beats for you to procure your apartment keys and only once you've brought them close to the lock does he speak.

"Hey," he says. "You must want some time alone, right? I think I should head home."

The key slides into the lock. You hesitate. "You're honestly going to let me be on my own?"

His brow sinks, but he doesn't roll his eyes or scoff. It's like he's upset, though not at you. "Yes—well, what the fuck do I have to do with it? You can do whatever you'd like." With a wary step closer, he puts hands in his pockets as if shackling himself before looking over your profile with an unusually soft expression. "It's not my place to let you do anything. Kenny's not going to threaten you anymore—but him aside, you have the right to be your own damn person."

"That's a new mindset for you." You flick the key clockwise.

"I know. It's something else I should apologize for. The way I treat you, and the way Kenny treated me—I get it. It's horrible, and rude, and absolutely controlling, and I shouldn't make you suffer the way he did to me."

So it takes a taste of his medicine for the professor to learn a lesson. It's a damn aggravating way to teach him, but it's better than thinking he can never change at all.

"Maybe things will be different now," you say, your tone plain and untelling.

"I'll make sure of that."

You push the door open, revealing the neglected apartment space. It's shabby and empty, a rather pathetic home to return to. For a moment, you think Levi's apartment would be more inviting.

You sigh, already regretting your choice before you've made it. "I'm sick of sitting in rooms by myself."

With that, you cross over the threshold and enter your space, leaving the door open.

Levi lingers in the doorway, coiled up but hopeful. "Are you certain?"

"Not really." You dispense your effects on the kitchenette counter, dropping your keys beside your wallet. "But I think it'd be worse if I was alone right now. I'm...I don't know how I feel."

"That's not a surprise. These sorts of things can wreck anyone." He slips inside, gently clicking the door shut behind him. "Kick me out whenever you want."

"Mmhmm." You go to the couch, curling up and turning your head to the window. It's still bright out, a rare winter sun coming forth to melt as much snow as it came before another storm comes through.

Levi's trepidatious in his actions. He adjusts the thermostat for you, puts your phone on the coffee table for you, and starts a kettle for you. When the metal of the pot is warm under his palms, he finally finds the strength to make a small request.

"It's...gotten a bit musty in here."

You nod. "It has." And already assuming what he wants, you glance over at your closet. "I've got some supplies against the wall in my closet. Soaps and cleaners are under the sink."

"Thank you." With permission, he moves fast to tackle the new task he's been assigned.

"Thank you," you echo, with about as much enthusiasm as a passenger thanking a bus driver.

Watching him clean from the couch, you can't seem to lift a finger or run a coherent thought through your head. Exhaustion weighs you down, coaxing you to cease existing as you have done repeatedly to break away from the nightmare.

There's tea for you in a few moments, along with a slice of slightly hard toast. You accept both and eat while Levi sweeps, not a word exchanged.

When he's done, and thus out of ways to distract himself, he comes to the couch and sits on the other end, careful not to touch you.

"Do you need anything else?"

You shake your head.

"Okay. Would you like me to stay longer?"

You shrug. "I really don't know, Levi. I don't know what I want."

He remains silent for some time. He can't look away from you, but he also can't comment on what he's feeling.

You put labels on your own feelings just to get rid of the confusion that's plagued you for days. You're fearful—hopeless. You're in a state of worry, feeling as though you and him can never return to where you once were.

Because, no matter how much you want to deny it, you'd like to go back to that time. It would be lovely to spend time with him again without the stench of betrayal and doubt.

"Levi, what's become of us?" Eyeing him, you recognize that you both seem like despondent children, neither stronger than the other. "I mean—is this something we can recover from?"

He shrugs. "That's...mostly dependent on you. I'm about as guilty as Kenny—I'm not the one that's hurt here."

"You're hurting, too. You can't act like all of this did nothing to you."

"What I'm feeling is nothing compared to your pain." He shifts an inch closer. "But I want to think we're...salvageable. That's my stupid, childish, wishful thinking, though. Like I said, you determine what happens here."

It's soothing to receive that prerogative. Finally, you have control of some part of your life again. It won't be dictated by a frenzied mentor or an insane uncle.

"I don't know what I want yet." You put your feet on the floor, opening up your frame. "I'm not...rejecting you. But I'm not enthusiastic about continuing what we had."

"Of course." He sees the hand you plant on the cushion and restrains the urge to hold it. "Here's...here's what I'll do."

He moves closer, facing you with his whole body with an arm across the backrest. Without a single part of his body touching you, he locks in eye contact and starts again.

"I'll wait. I'll do absolutely nothing but wait until you're ready. Be it days, weeks, or years: I'll wait."

You shift your weight onto your straight arm, silently demanding that he continue.

"And when you're ready," he murmurs, his breath hitting your lips. "I'll be here for you. We can continue from where we were—and go any direction you like. Whenever you're ready."

"Convenient." This close, it'd take not much more than a twitch to meet his lips. You don't indulge in the thought. "Frees you of responsibility, hm?"

"Frees me of control," he corrects, "and puts it where it belongs. That's the way it always should have been."

"Maybe." It simply took him ages to realize that. "Am I the mentor now, too?"

He scoffs quietly. "Earn your master's and become the department head, then I'll consider it."

"Noted."

He lingers, wondering if he only has to wait a few seconds instead of a few years. Alas, the moment passes, and he realizes he'll have to practice more patience than that. It will not be so easy to mend deep wounds.