Sweet Devil [BL]

Misha didn't see much of his mother's corpse in his past life. Back then, Masha had quickly run over to take him in her arms, firmly holding his head against her c.h.e.s.t. Despite the child's struggling, she had refused to let him go, placating him again and again.

Still, the little Misha had seen was enough to give him nightmares for the rest of his life.

And now, his sister couldn't hide the gruesome sight for him as she herself laid on the ground, her legs crushed.

Although their mother had shoved her away, as a teenager, she was heavier than little Misha, and Mrs. Brown wasn't strong enough to completely push her out of the way. As a result, Masha fell, and the pick-up ran over her legs, shattering the bones and tearing the flesh.

However, the pick-up didn't stop even after hitting two persons and continued on his way, leaving behind it a trail of blood.

In the snow-white scenery of December, the deep-red color particularly stood out, giving off the feeling that angels had shed tears of blood.

The first one to react was Gabriel, just like in their past life. He took out his cellphone and called 911 while running toward the girls.

As if awakened by the teenager's sudden movement, Misha followed him in a hurry, while Alexey stayed frozen in place, his face as pale as a ghost.

The boy first rushed to his mother, throwing himself on the ground by her side. Her breathing was labored and slow, each breath further from the last. Her body was a mess, yet she still managed to turn her head toward her daughter, seemingly staring at her through her blurred vision.

"Don't worry, mom. Masha will be fine. The paramedics are on their way, and Gabriel is by her side. He won't let her die, I promise." A muffled sob escaped his mouth, and he added softly, "I love you…. I love you so much, mom."

A sad smile seemed to stretch her lips, and then his mother breathed her last as if reassured by her son's words. The light in her eyes slowly dimmed, and her pupils dilated, blackening the crystal-clear blue of her irises.

As tiny snowflakes started to fall, Misha ran his hand in her bloody hair one last time before standing up and sprinting toward his sister, who had passed out due to the pain.

The boy rubbed his eyes to wipe his tears off. Now wasn't the time to cry. His sister still needed help.

Lifting his head, Misha looked at the teenage boy, who constantly reported the situation to the assistant on the phone, and with a hard gaze, he asked, "What can I do?"

"…" The teenager stared at the boy for a short second, seeming to think about something. His lips hesitantly parted, and ultimately, he gave him some instructions, "Help me lift her legs. She's bleeding too much."

Misha nodded and bent over, carefully lifting one of his sister's legs to slow the blood flow. As he did so, there was a disturbing, cracking sound that made his stomach churn. Biting his lips, he swallowed back the lump that was burning his throat and concentrated on his job, distracting himself from the nausea and the cold.

His small hands rapidly became sticky with blood as he also put pressure on the wounds. While doing so, he kept on mumbling like a broken record:

"Stop bleeding, stop bleeding, please stop bleeding…"

.

When the paramedics finally arrived, Misha felt like an eternity had passed. At first, he didn't realize that they were two men by his side, that there was a hand on his shoulder and a gentle voice asking him to leave it to them now, saying that he had done a good job.

It took him a moment to stand up, and he only did so because Gabriel talked him into leaving his post. The teenager then led the child a little further away to give more space to the paramedics.

The boy absently watched the two men put his sister on a stretcher. From the corner of his eyes, he also saw a paramedic examine his mother before shaking his head, indicating to his colleague that she didn't make it. Her wounds were too severe, just like in his previous life.

The child saw them cover her body with a white sheet. He couldn't observe them for long, though, as Gabriel turned his head toward him so that his mother's corpse would be out of sight.

"Look at me, ok?"

For once, the boy didn't protest and obediently nodded.

And behind the teenager, Misha noticed that a policeman had approached his father at some unknown time. The man wrapped Alexey in a blanket, trying to talk to him and get a reaction, but his father was in a state of shock. His face was haggard, looking as if he had lost his soul.

But who could blame him? He had just seen the love of his life died horrifically, and his daughter wasn't in a much better state. The police officers were afraid he would break down and collapse.

Eventually, he realized that his grandparents were also there and that a few other relatives had come out of the house after realizing that something was wrong.

His grandmother was on her knees, her sunken cheeks covered in tears, while his grandfather was beside her, holding his wife in his trembling arms. He was repeatedly kissing the top of her white head, trying to calm her.

The boy averted his eyes. Instead, he looked at the ambulance.

With a firm voice, the boy asked the paramedics, who had just loaded Masha in the vehicle, "Can I come with you? I want to stay with my sister. Please."

Misha knew a family member had the right to accompany the patient in the ambulance. Well, it had been the case when he had slightly injured himself once. He didn't know if it was possible when the injuries were more severe, but it didn't hurt to ask.

"Can I also come? She's my girlfriend," added Gabriel, and only then did Misha notice the tremble in his voice. "I don't think anyone is in the right mind to drive us to the hospital."

The teenager glanced at the a.d.u.l.ts standing near the house, and the paramedics followed his gaze. One of them seemed to hesitate for a second before saying, "There is only one place in the front. You can't sit at the back. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I will drive them to the hospital."

A voice resounded behind the teenager and the child. As such, they both glanced over their shoulder, meeting the gentle gaze of a female police officer.

Gabriel didn't wait for Misha's answer and politely thanked her for help. Right now, he didn't want to leave the boy alone, not even for a second.

They quickly got into the police car.

Before taking off, the woman gave them tissues to wipe off the blood from their hands. Because Misha was blankly staring at it without taking it, Gabriel ended up accepting it for him. Then, he proceeded to clean the child's cold hands, gently and carefully.

From the beginning of the ride until the end, no one talked, but they couldn't stay still once they reached the hospital. Without delay, the police officer led them to the waiting room near the emergency room and stood by their side.

For many reasons, she couldn't leave them alone, and although Gabriel had given a detailed description of the run-away pick-up on the phone, there was a possibility she would need to ask him a few more questions.

They had to find the culprit as soon as possible.

After waiting in a daze for a few minutes, reality finally hit Misha and hit him hard. The emotions he had suppressed until now started to overflow, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

When Gabriel saw the child burst out crying, he instinctively got closer, wanting to take him in his arms. However, Misha reacted faster, and his small fists heavily landed on his c.h.e.s.t, again and again.

"Why!?" He screamed, "Why did you forget the gift in the car? Just why!"

The teenager didn't avoid his fists, letting the child hit his body to his heart's content. He glanced at the police officer, letting her know that it was fine. She didn't have to intervene.

"I'm sorry."

Hearing Gabriel apologizing made Misha shudder, and his cries became louder while his fists became slower.

"Don't…" The child tried to choke back a sob. It was without much success. "It's not your fault."

The words had barely left his mouth, and Misha buried his head in Gabriel's stomach, wrapping his arms around his waist. He repeated in a weak voice, "It's not your fault."