Page 66 of The Mourning Throne
No words.
Metal and silence, heavy with unspoken consequence and threat.
Ollie stared.
Morgan didn’t blink.
The blade hung in the air between them like a ritual offering.
Ollie took it. Hesitant. Both hands. His fingers trembled as he looked down at it, then up at Lex—eyes wide, wet, searching for a shred of empathy that wasn’t there.
And then—finally—he pressed it to his arm.
Just above his wrist.
Shallow. A thin line of red. Barely more than a scratch.
Lex clicked his tongue. “You can do better than that! Right? I know you can.”
Ollie’s lips parted. His breathing caught. He looked down at the knife like it was alive.
And then—again.
The second cut was deeper.
An inhale of pain. A trembling hand.
Blood welled from his wrist, slipping in dark, slick lines down to his thighs.
Lex leaned forward, eyes bright and sharp. Morgan could feel his excitement, a low hum pulsing through the room like static electricity.
Ollie’s eyes glazed over. He was probably somewhere else, far away from here, searching for any moment of joy he could grasp.
Morgan could see it, plain as day.
“Is—is that okay?” Ollie voice shook. “Did I—”
Lex looked over the camera, then back down. “You can still do better.”
Ollie flinched, fingers tightening around the blade until the knuckles whitened.
“You’re almost there, Ollie,” Lex said, soft and sickly sweet. “You’re so close. A little more, okay?”
The tone was truly nauseating. Lex would have to work on that, or Morgan would have to be in a different room.
Another cut—closer to a vein this time. Dark blood bubbled up faster, warm and sticky, its metallic scent sharp and unmistakable in the stillness.
Ollie glanced back at Lex, tears streaming freely down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m—trying.”
Lex crawled forward, face inches from Ollie’s.
“You remembered to ask for rules. I’m so proud of you,” he said.
Ollie nodded too quickly, desperation in the gesture. His fingers tightened on the knife like he wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to let go.
Morgan reached out, took the blade from him carefully. No blood touched his hands.
