Stockholm Syndrome

8.

My body ached as I sat up in my bed.

The image of Murdoc beating me surfaced in my mind, sending a shiver down my spine. It was hard for me to do much of anything with that thought in my head, and I hadn't left my room the entire day. Murdoc didn't check on me at all, most likely leaving me to process what he said as further punishment.

Looking over towards the opposite wall, I saw the clock read 10:30 PM. My stomach growled, and I let out a deep sigh, pushing my feet off the bed. Pondering the idea of getting something to eat, I stared at the door to my room.

With a small sigh, I stood to my feet, my legs shaking under my weight. Being as quiet as I could, I made my way to the door, and stepped out into the hall. I ambled past the bathroom quietly.

As I made my way towards the kitchen I heard voices coming from the living room and I turned my head in confusion. The lights were dim, virtually off, which only made my curiosity grow stronger as the voices became more clear.

"Murdoc..." I heard a familiar voice slur.

As I came to the opening to the living room I peeked in to see both Murdoc and 2D sitting at opposite ends of the couch, their backs facing me. The lighting was dim, and the room was lit by a strange, eerie orange color. The lights were off, only candles lit up the large room. I watched as 2D brought his glass of whiskey to his lips and took a large swig, Murdoc paying no attention as he read a book.

"Murdoc, listen to m-me..."

"Just shut it, would yah?" Murdoc snapped, looking up at him for a quick moment.

2D's expression went cold as they sat there in silence. A few moments later he moved over to the other side of the couch, placing one of his hands on Murdoc's leg.

"Muds..." 2D cooed, slowly moving even closer to Murdoc, and I sat there watching in confusion.

Murdoc looked up from his book and gave 2D a very perplexed stare, his eyebrow raised as he watched the blue haired boy move on top of him. 2D wrapped his arms around Murdoc, setting his head on his shoulder.

"Stuart... We're not..." Murdoc struggled to find the right words as he sat there.

His confused look suddenly turned to a frown, his stare going cold.

"This isn't why you're here. I'm not the one for you... We've been over this."

"I don't care." 2D whined to him, digging his face in Murdoc's neck.

"Well you should, you git." Murdoc snapped and 2D laughed, taking another drink of whiskey.

Murdoc let off a small growl as he grabbed the glass from him and slammed it on the side table.

"I think you've had enough."

"Says who? I can have as much to drink as I want you old goth—"

"That's it!" Murdoc bellowed, pushing 2D off him and standing up. He grabbed 2D by his forearm and pulled him to his feet. "This happens every time you drink and I'm bloody sick of it, I'll tell ya'!"

He got very close to 2D, the same way he's done to me in the past.

Murdoc continued, "This isn't why you're here! You're here to make an album. I don't want to have to remind you of this, but you don't... you don't actually feel that for me. I don't want you to feel that for me, got it?"

"This is because of her, isn't it?" 2D asked in a broken tone, his eyes beginning to tear up, "No time for me anymore."

Murdoc's expression changed as the anger left his eyes, a look of guilt crossing his face. He looked to the floor for a moment before sighing deeply. His gaze met the boy's once again.