How Far I've Come (Keith x Reader)

♅ Repeat; Chapter Twenty-Five ♅

Sometime within the last year, you had succumb to the same darkness. The same witch engulfed you with the same inky, dark essence, only she really topped you off this time. Darker. Stronger. More painful.

And so, for a second horrifying time, you slipped into a state of complete and utter bitter black. During that trip of pure muddled pain, every single one of your worst fears came to life. Whether it scared you for a dream as a kid or haunted you to this day, it ripped from it's darkest roots and slashed at you until you were all suffered out.

Dad was drowning himself with booze, letting it fill up to his brain. He rotted in it. You could smell it from your distance, pure and pukish.

Mom withered away like sand in a storm, curled up into herself, not even sparing you a last glance. You run over to where she once stood, scavenging the floor for recent nostalgia, or a happy memory, anything.

You stand up and turn to the sound of whistling wind.

Shiro looked at you with concern.

Keith was angered at you without a way to explain yourself.

And Lotor won.

Whatever he desired out of you was right in his hands, where he wanted it.

Only, this time, everything is worse, like rubbing salt into a flesh wound with crusty hands.

When you snapped back into the torturous false reality, just as previously, Shiro stood in front of you. All of Voltron was behind him as well; Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Allura, Coran, Keith. Their eyes were wide, bright, their smiles wide and accepting...

Until reality settles in. Grim eyes were given, some more angry than disgusted. Most were a blend of both.

"We thought you were with us." Voices hissed.

"What a waste of air, thrown away for a backstabber." One slithered.

"Just stay with Lotor, he wants you more than we do."

Keith looks the most violated. He remains silent. The group around him fades into the pitch black of the area, all except for him. You fall to your knees, scraping them against the rough surface of your abyss. He stands above you, looking down at your figure. God knows he wasn't feeling merciful.

You broke down, sobbing at his ankles, innocent and guilty in one disgusting mess.

"You had me convinced for a brief second, Y/n," He says, looking away from you for a brief moment. "You had me under the impression that we had something. Anything. That you even loved me at all."

What could you say?

"I-It's not my-...my fau-ault.." You hiccup, sobbing out every letter, barely choking out comprehensible English. It's pathetic, so awful and pathetic, and it sounds the part.

"I see now why I could never stand you. Why you were always such a pain in my neck." He spits, deep and vile. "I was never good enough. When I tried to give you your journal, all of the sudden it was my fault for reading it, for missing you. Every time I tried to put forth something, you did it better. When I try to protect you, you were able to do it yourself all along."

Your throat is as good as dry wood. The words coming out can only deteriorate the more you try; "Keith...I-I-"

"Why did you drag me along, Y/n?! Why did you let me believe that you ever cared about what I did, even if it was for you?!" A boot stomps between your shoulder blades, forcing you down by your open back. "Why did you make me think you cared about me?!" Keith cries.