you can occupy my every sigh

Chapter Seventeen

TW: Tyler gets tortured in this chapter - the entire chapter is just torture. If you cannot handle graphic violence, body horror, and psychological and physical torture, skip to the end for a recap! I've marked the roughest section with a * when it starts and ends (in that section there is a depiction of skin being removed). CW: minor, and I mean minor, grooming - nothing sexual, just Laurel being strangely creepily motherly.

The first feeling Tyler registered was the splitting ache in his head. It felt as if multiple nails had been driven into his skull, and the hammer was still pounding away at one or two of them, causing the rhythmic throbbing of his headache. His eyes slowly opened, his vision blurry as he took in his surroundings in the low light. Tyler couldn't see much; he was in a small, windowless room with a singular overhead light that flickered weakly, a metal table covered in assorted items and a wooden chair. He was bound, the thick, icy chains chaffing against his bare wrists and ankles. He wiggled around, but all he could do was lift his back off the chair. He wouldn't be escaping on his own.

The walls of the room were pure cement, so there was no chance Tyler's screams would be heard anywhere other than the room. It was evident the space was designed for a kidnapee. The cultist had finally got her hands on him, whoever she was. Dust filtered from the ceiling like snowflakes falling, the small particles visible where the flickering light illuminated them. Tyler tried to clear his thoughts, but it felt impossible; the pain in his head was too great. He could feel dry blood congealed to the back of his head from the strike the kidnapper had landed earlier. It was highly likely that he was concussed.

Tyler felt like he was underwater; everything was hazy and slow like he was experiencing the world in slow motion. He couldn't remember much of what led up to the blow on the back of his head. He'd been in a forest, he knew that much, although he couldn't remember why. A flash of ebony hair. Pale, corpse-like skin. Dark, unblinking eyes, darting from place to place, fear and paranoia evident on her face. Who's face? Her name was on the tip of Tyler's tongue, but he couldn't reach it. It was just beyond the wall of memory loss the concussion had given him.

There'd been a fight. Someone was running, and he was pursuing. The girl, she'd looked at him in both horror and anguish before racing off into the forest. For some reason, it had been imperative that he follow her. She was important, this he knew. Something about a golden string? Something connecting the two of them? Tyler tried to feel around for the string, which he knew resided somewhere in his mind, but it was just out of his reach. So close, and yet so far. Tyler sighed, closing his eyes and trying to recall as much as he could.

The girl was clad in all black, her skin pale as moonlight and her eyes dark as pitch. Seeing her put him at ease, despite her uncanny mannerisms and strange quirks. No, strange wasn't the right word for her. She was eclectic. No, wrong again. What was it? Tyler could feel how important she was, but he couldn't recall anything substantial about her. Weird? No, too common. She was anything but common. Kooky.

That was it! The girl was kooky, but she preferred spooky. They met earlier this year. She wore his mother's promise ring. Her necklace had a dahlia flower pendant. He was wearing a matching one. Wednesday. Her name was Wednesday, and they were bonded. Fuck, how could he have forgotten? Everything came rushing back - not fast or all at once, but slow and steady, like molasses dripping into his skull. The fight. Xavier. Running through the forest. The decaying bond. The bond!

Tyler felt around for it, searching for the string of golden light. It came much easier now that he'd regained memory of what had happened the previous night. Or, was it the previous night? How much time had passed while he was unconscious? Was Wednesday alright? Had the madness taken over completely? Tyler sighed, trying to focus on one thing at a time. He reached out for the bond, finding it less decayed and blackened than before, to his relief. It wasn't its usual bright gold, but it wasn't the rotting oil-slick black it was before. Small victories.