All Chapters of Why the moon roars: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

TW: Suicide, self harm, negative thoughts. STEPHEN'S POVI gripped my pillow harder in my hands, my back aching from how long I've been in this position. I was resting against the headboard of my bed. And right now, I realised how uncomfortable and unnecessary the carvings and designs on the headboard are. They were too much, and were very stupid at this moment. My throat hurt from how much I'd been screaming in to the pillow, and my head was aching, but even with all these physical inconveniences and pain, none of them could compare to the feeling on my heart sinking even further down my body as my tears tainted my pillowcase like they never had before in my life. I buried my face further into the pillow, trying to bring up my knees closer to my chest so my knees could prop up the pillow in a better posture that won't have me crying from both my mismanagement of emotions, and from back pains. It didn't work, and the position only seemed to be getting worse, which fueled my tears.

STEPHEN'S POV I hated walking in front of others. It was honestly among the top list of things I hated doing. It wasn't anything personal or complicated, really, I genuinely just preferred walking behind people so I could watch their movements and such. It was all just a matter of being on guard all the time. Clyde was having none of that though, and I had a feeling that it was because he was worried that I would run away if he let me out of his sight for even a split second.He wasn't wrong though, but it wasn't like I would run away the exact second he turned; I would at least wait for a minute or so. Hell, I would plan it all out in my head first before I would actually run away. It wasn't that I was trying to run away from him exactly, I just didn't want to burden him in any way. Knowing him, the second we got back to my room, he would give me “the talk” and then I would be forced to sit through a, at least, three hours long lecture. I knew he would only do it because he meant

DEVINA'S POV I bit my nails, starting from my left thumb as I clenched my teeth on it until it stung. Tearing off the extension from my finger, I spat out the nail and moved on to the next — my middle finger. I wasn't a fan of biting off the nails of my index finger, or my pinky one either. That was gross. I preferred to stick to my thumb, my middle, and my ring finger. Those made the biting more comfortable and didn't make me have to arch my wrist in an odd angle. I was very much aware that biting your nails wasn't exactly the best of habits, neither was getting so frustrated that you'd pull on your hair until you'd accidentally tug quite a few strands off. I wasn't so much of an innate peasant that I didn't know that much. But, ultimately, I had to choose one of the two as a coping mechanism, and I wasn't so sure I wanted to be walking about and parading the streets while the blazing sun would shine on my bald head with an unforgiving heat. That seemed like a special kind of tortu

STEPHEN'S POV Clyde sat down on the bed, gesturing to the chair behind me. I grabbed it and drew it closer to him, sitting directly opposite. We were facing each other, and like this, it was possible to see every one of each other's facial expressions. Clyde crossed his legs, putting one over the other as he laced his fingers together. He rested his laced fingers on his knee, leaning forward as he stared at me. “Stephen.” Clyde's posture, even though he was leaning, was still inhumanly straight as he addressed me, his tone filled with faux gentleness. “I think it's about time we talk everything out. Don't you?”I waited with laboured breaths for Clyde to start talking. He seemed to take much pleasure in building up the tension because he really did just stare at me for over a minute. I shifted in my seat awkwardly, the thin layer of fabric covering the foam of the chair wrinkling underneath my weight and making a weird sound. I brought my hands together, fiddling with my fingers i

DEVINA'S POV We stopped at the airport's entrance, just in time for us to get organised and settle before our flight left. Hell, it hadn't even landed yet. The driver didn't bother turning off the car's ignition, and while we were seated, I took the liberty of uncuffing Cynthia's hands. I removed the gag from her mouth as well, throwing it on the floor and waiting for her patiently. I observed as she stretched her jaw, opening it and closing so as to soothe the ache that must've been present in the joint. She also rubbed at her wrists, the area slightly red and irritated, but it looked like it would be fine in a few minutes…or hours. Cynthia sniffled, and I brought up the spare handkerchief that I had come with to dab at the place underneath her eyes, cleaning her face with it as well so she looked a tad bit more presentable. Denzel helped her smoothen her hair, running his hands through the tangled locks. If you ignored the redness of her eyes, and how her bottom lip was trembling