I imagine Lucas looks somewhat like this.
Here we go again. I call this one "lots of hurt and only a smidge of comfort"
I'm going to try to upload the next chapter within two weeks, however, I'm moving and two weeks from now is also my move-in date. I'm still going to try to do it, I just might get busier than expected. I believe in myself though lol.
I briefly gloss over the noncon from the last Talon chapter (one part is a bit more detailed but not very much), but there is no explicit scene in this chapter. There is however a noncon kiss and scenes of very rough and dehumanizing treatment, as well as heavy self-deprecating thinking. It is sad and very well may be hard to read. Also a CW for claustrophobia and fear of death. Please be advised.
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Talons Pov
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I woke up sluggishly from a sleep I don't even remember falling into. I blinked a few times until my vision cleared, suddenly very aware of the harsh aches and pain in my whole body. I'm staring up at the ceiling, the flat gray cement, laying on my back. With each laboured breath I take there's a painful scratchy feeling in my throat, making it even harder to take the next ones, especially with the collar there.
Every inch of my body feels like it has a pulse of its own, It throbs and stings, in some places more than others. Slowly I notice how my stomach is churning. It feels like my organs are hurdling over each other.
"How are you feeling..?" Lucas's timid voice pipes up from next to me, and a slight turn of my head reveals that he's sitting against the wall right next to me.
"L-like shit," I say with a bitter laugh, that shortly turns into a coughing fit. My voice reminds me of the first time I spoke in the mirror to practice for Sebastian. It's deeper and gravelly and broken, and my throat begins to burn. "I f-feel like I'm... about to th...throw up."
"Let me help you," Lucas responds when I try to sit myself up, hissing in pain. I swear I see stars for a moment. He slowly helps me to the bathroom where I end up puking up not much food and a lot of stomach acid, which makes the burning feeling in my throat way worse.
"He must have done a lot..." Lucas says softly, referring to my condition.
"I d-don't even remember falling asleep," I mumble as he helps me up again. We start to walk slowly when I catch sight of myself in the mirror, causing him to stop next to me.
I look sickly, paler already even though it's only been like two days. There are bags under my eyes. I lift my hand to my neck, there's a thick, deep red stripe around my wrist from where the rope was... I grab hold of the stupid purple collar and tug it slightly down and away from my neck as much as I can. Its varying shades of red and purple-- my neck-- bruises from Hardheads large hands. It's almost as if I can still feel them squeezing, and I take a deep breath just to remember that I'm still allowed to breathe.
With a slight shake of my head, I let go of the collar's hook and follow next to Lucas with his support for me to walk, though it still hurts, everything does. He helps me slide down the wall and rest as I take puffs of air, then he sits next to me.
"You fell asleep at some point... I'm not sure when, but I put your stuff away for you, so you didn't get caught," Lucas starts after the silence. Ah fuck, I can't believe I fell asleep with that stuff in my hands. How careless can I be? Lucas continues, "And at some point, uh the guy, y'know the main one-"
"I c-call him Hardhead."
He laughs slightly, "...Hardhead came in to give me food and I told him your shoulder was messed up..."
I remember now... I remember waking up abruptly from a severe pain, gasping and screaming, vision dotting in black.
"He reset it while you were sleeping and you woke up screaming, but you passed out in the middle of it, he unchained us, and you didn't wake up until now. I hope it didn't freak you out that I was watching you... I was just making sure you didn't uh... die." Lucas says looking at me.
"He recorded it," I mutter after a moment of silence. I don't know why I said it out of nowhere. I just felt like maybe he should know and I needed to get the weight of anxiety off of my chest. What if he posts it online like he said?
"Recorded what?" Lucas's voice pipes in through my thoughts.
"Everything-- he recorded everything he did to me earlier..." I answered, voice cracking slightly.
"...What's he gonna do with it?" Lucas asked softly.
"I don't know..." I whisper, "I just... knowing that he has that..." My voice trailed off. He didn't say anything, but he pulled me into a long hug.
"Thank you... for helping me," I say after clearing my throat, "And for watching me."
My mind was focused on him touching me, when he'd helped me to the bathroom, and how as he was hugging me now. It was weird, it was uncomfortable, and I couldn't even stop myself from shaking, from breathing heavy, from feeling queasier than I already had been. I think he wrote it off on my injuries because he doesn't know... he doesn't know what it makes me think of.
But we're in the same boat, he's with me in this shitty situation, he's just like me.
Just like I was...
And this is survival. We've got to work together if we ever want to make it out, and I have to get over my stupid little fear, at least for now...
I pulled my knees to my chest, folding my arms on top of my knees and resting my head on them, facing the side toward Lucas. I focused on the window on the adjacent wall. I could see distant trees, the area surrounding this building seems to be forest-like, with tall trees that looked like evergreens towering into the sky. It was dark out, had to be at least past midnight, maybe like three am.
Stars twinkled in the sky above, and it almost looked pretty- almost. The current scenario doesn't allow their full potential, but maybe one of my friends at home is seeing them and feeling just a little bit better.
"Lucas..." I called in my raspy voice.
"Yeah?"
"Were in this together right? You and me..."
"yeah, together, both of us," he responds with a small smile, though it hardly reaches his eyes. He holds his hand out between us, as an invitation.
I bite my bottom lip, but eventually, I grasp his hand with mine and squeeze reassuringly.
If we're in this together then we need to be strategic to be able to escape. One thing immediately comes to mind.
"Hey," I say to get his attention, turning my body to face a little more toward him.
"Hmm?" He hums.
"So w-we obviously want to escape right?" He nods, "Right, so we're going to have to be smart about this... At home-- normally- I don't speak; I use sign language. If you d-don't know it, then I think we should waste no time and I should teach you some. We could talk to each other w-with-without fear of them overhearing us." I explain, watching his reaction, tapping my foot idly on the concrete floor.
"Yea- Yeah. That's really smart... I don't know anything." He says to me, stretching his legs forward in front of him.
I do practically the same, changing my near fetal position to be more open, slowly though, because it hurts to move. I think to myself the best beginning words and things to teach him that'd be the most beneficial to our situation. We don't need him to learn how to sign his name or something like that- at least not now.
"Normally you're s-supposed to use a lot of facial expressions, but I think we should avoid that as much as possible- we don't want them to be able to tell we're communicating."
He nods and gives a solemn smile, "I always wanted to learn another language," he mumbles, tapping his fingers on his kneecaps, like he's drumming to the beat of a song in his head, "I never thought it'd be like this, though."
"Well, m-maybe when we get out of here ill te-teach you all of it," I say, trying to reassure myself that we will get out of here... even if it takes two years-- we will get out.
"Promise?" he asks innocently, looking over at me with large eyes that remind me just how young he is.
"Yeah. I promise," I give a reassuring smile, one which he returns, "Now, watch my hands."
I teach him the alphabet first, just because it can be a failsafe if you don't know a word, then you can just spell it out. Then I go for basic pronouns and nouns, then some phrases we may need to use. I tell him that he probably won't remember everything right away, and that's okay, but we've got to start somewhere, and we've got to start now.
Both of our heads turned as the door flew open. I quickly dropped the sign my hands were forming. We'd at least gotten in a few hours of teaching before being interrupted; a quick check to the window showed it was beginning to get light outside. I don't know why these guys want to be up so early.
"Get up, let's go," Sasquatch demanded from the doorway. He was wearing a tight tee-shirt that showed off all of his muscles, and that was enough for me to start moving. I used the wall for support, grunting as I struggled to stand when Lucas held out his hand for me. I grabbed it and pulled myself up. At that, Sasquatch rolled his eyes.
Lucas went through the door first, and I followed, hearing the metal door slam closed behind me. I jumped when I felt his cold hand suddenly on the small of my back, using it to lead me forward. I scrunched my face and balled my fists, trying to resist speeding up to move away.
Once we emerged from the doorway at the top of the staircase our moment of 'peacefulness' was ruined for the rest of the day. My eyes roamed the room, seeing who all was there. All of the men were in the living room, roaming around or getting situated on the couches like they'd all just finished getting here. I paled when I saw the tv.
They must have just turned it on as we were walking up. I saw myself, sitting on the floor of Hardhead's bedroom. I was looking at the floor and hugging my arms to my chest, glancing up and locking eyes with the camera, and then tracking the person outside of view. My eyes were somehow hollow but terrified at the same time, and I was shaking like a leaf, looking so vulnerable and helpless as Hardhead enters the frame, pistol in hand. I grimace at the scene and look away.
"Ah, it's the star of the show!" Crazy shouts from the couch excitedly, his obnoxious laugh following after amongst the chatter in the room.
"I'm excited about your performance, I'm sure you'll give us a nice reenactment too," I felt Sasquatches hot breath on the back of my neck, his hand caressing my good shoulder. I frowned and focused my troubled eyes on the floor.
I guess I know what they have planned for me today...
"Alright, let's get some beer and some food for me and the boys, right?" Vicious says loudly, and the room fills with the cheers of agreement. Lucas and I stayed where we were. Sasquatch's hand that's still resting on my shoulder pushes in and shoves me stumbling forward.
"You heard him," He says gruffly.
"Exactly." I hear Hardhead speak right after, and also his voice from the video on the tv in the background. "Now get your useless asses in the damn kitchen and do what you're fucking told!" He yells. I look up from the floor and make eye contact with him, his eyes are full of anger and his eyebrows are pulling down.
"Okay, Master, we'll get right on that!" Lucas' panicked voice responds, he does a slight bow and grabs my hand, pulling me along with him into the kitchen.
I shook my head, my eyes flicking around the room, hardly focusing on anything, "Sorry, I jus-"
"You don't have to say sorry..." Lucas cuts me off and I look to him instead.
The kitchen is separated from the living room, in a way that we could talk in here and if we aren't too loud they won't know what we're saying, unless they're totally silent I guess. It's walled off, but there's a large arched doorway that connects it to the living room. The TV in there is big and mounted on the wall, so we can see it from in here, but we're both trying not to focus on what it's playing. I can hear it faintly too, because they have it up loud, and my heart pummels in my chest, remembering last night.
Lucas opens the freezer and tries to find something to make them, pulling out two frozen pizzas a few seconds later. I get the hint and open the fridge to grab the beers. We would have to cook them a fresh meal, but if they wanted us to do that they would have had one of the guys come in here to watch us cook just to make sure we didn't try to eat anything. With something like a frozen pizza they could tell if we touched it or not.
I grabbed a case of beers and a bottle opener as Lucas pressed buttons to preheat the oven.
"I'm gonna t-take these to them then," I mumble. He nods, hair falling into his face, but he stays staring straight ahead. I lift the case back off the counter and my aching shoulder lights on fire for a second when the weight is added. I wince and switch it into my other hand, grabbing the bottle opener after.
I don't want to go back in there...
But I have no choice.
I breathe in deep through my nose and decide to continue walking. If I wait any longer I'll make it worse. I walk through the archway and around the couch. I try to ignore the tv, succeeding in doing so until I place the beer on the coffee table and grab a bottle to take the cap off. I looked up without thinking and I make eye contact with myself.
The video shows me being dragged onto the bed. It does a close-up on my face contorting into one of pain as my shoulder is pulled-- the men are watching like it's a movie.
Somehow it felt worse seeing it from this angle. Worse than seeing his face above me was seeing myself. Seeing the fear and desperation in my eyes- knowing that this is how they saw me too- and it's what draws them in.
As I'm lost staring wide-eyed at the tv, watching my wrists get roped around to the bed frame, I feel a hand grip my wrist. I jump, head snapping toward Hardhead and his dark glower.
"What's taking you so long, Mutt?"
I blink a few times, remembering the bottle in my hands and what I was supposed to be doing.
"I'm s-sorry- sorry," I stammer out. He lets go of my wrist and I fumble to pop the cap of the bottle, handing him the bottle when I do. "Here you go- Master..."
He nods curtly, leaning back and taking a sip, kicking his legs up to rest his feet on the coffee table. I continue removing caps and handing beers to each respective man. When I get to Baldy last he surprises me by lifting me onto his lap until I'm basically straddling him. All I do is try to focus on not spilling the alcohol.
"You look so precious when you're scared, I love it..." He whispers lowly. I gulp, turning my face toward the wall and close my eyes.
"No. Look at me..." he demands. I sniffle but I comply.
"I can't just watch all this and not get some of my own.." He says, referring to the tv, which is now showing Hardhead sitting on my stomach and tying the leash to the top frame. My breath stutters as I watch the lust in his eyes fester.
He hooks his finger in the little steel loop on my collar and tugs me forward until my lips are on his unwillingly. His lips are chapped and split and they feel so uncomfortable. He nibbles on my lip and when I don't do anything he bites down hard, causing me to yelp in pain, tears springing to life. Baldy uses that opportunity to shove his tongue in my mouth. He still has a hold on the collar so I can't pull away. I taste copper as blood dribbles from the wound he left and I place my hands on his chest trying to pull away but he holds me into that disgusting kiss for way too long.
"Hey, Mutt, I need another beer! And some food goddamnit," I hear Crazy shout. Baldy growls almost possessively, pushing deeper into the kiss and nibbling on my tongue too.
"C'mon J, let it go so it can get our shit!" Crazy persists.
I push against him harshly once more, mumbling as much of a 'please' as I can with him on me the way he is. He bites my bottom lip hard again and pulls away, leaving a trail of saliva and finally allowing the blood to trail down my chin. He lets go of the collar hook and harshly shoves me off of him so I fall backward onto the hard floor with a cry. I land on my back gasping for air.
"Now go help with that food, I'm fucking hungry. I'll finish with you soon when it's your showtime." He says, bringing the beer back to his mouth and taking a big drink.
"Y-yes sssir," I say, lisping slightly. I struggle to stand and hastily make my way out of the living room, hearing Baldy call Crazy a 'fucking cockblock,' followed by Crazy's scary laugh that I hate so much.
I enter back into the kitchen with my hand on my lip and my body shaking terribly. Lucas looks toward me.
"Ah shit," he says when he notices the blood. He moves out of the way of the sink and I rush to it, washing my mouth out from the taste of blood and from Baldy too. I put pressure on it until the bleeding stops and I rinse it again just because.
"They're all complaining about not having food, may-maybe we should bring them a sssnack?" I mumble. My lip feels tingly and is starting to feel slightly numb. It makes it a bit harder to talk than it already was.
"Yeah, that sounds smart," he responds. I reluctantly step toward the pantry to find something to bring out before Lucas stops me, saying, "Wait. I'll go this time."
I lick the new wound on my bottom lip subconsciously and nod, whispering, "okay..."
Lucas grabs some tortilla chips, salsa, and potato chips and brings them out. I watch from the kitchen as best as I can and wonder if he was doing the same. He doesn't get distracted by the new scene unfolding on the tv. But I can tell he hears it by the grimaces he's trying to hide.
I can see it from where I stand, Hardhead is unbuckling his belt and it cuts to multiple angles. I bet he edited it together last night. I look away and turn toward the wall as the worst part begins, not wanting to see that. I wasn't even mentally there in the moment either.
About a minute later I hear Lucas rush back into the room, and I wipe my tears with my hands. There's a part of the counter that comes out parallel to the wall the doorway is on, and I walk toward it looking down at the floor. When I get to it I turn back around so my back is to it, sliding down until I'm sitting on the floor with my knees to my chest. I hear the sink run for a short moment.
I chose this spot to sit specifically because from where they are in the living room they cant see here. It's as best of a safe zone as you can get.
I bury my face in my hands and shortly after the water shuts off and Lucas fills a spot on the floor next to me. Then we play the waiting game, waiting for another order. In my case waiting for my time to 'reenact' my video. I'm not sure if Lucas has to join in that but I'm hoping not.
"This shit is so disgusting..." he says quietly, I hum slightly in agreement.
"I don't even understand how they all sit in there and watch that together, or watch them doing it in real-time. I bet if you asked them they'd say they aren't gay."
I chuckled slightly at his comment, that's probably so accurate-- sounds just like Mitch.
When the oven timer finishes about twelve minutes later he takes the pizzas out and I gather plates for them. We take them out together while Hardhead forces me drugs in the background. We don't get stuck with them that time though thankfully because they're preoccupied with the food they had been so hungry for. We rush back into the kitchen after.
My hands are shaking badly and my breathing is so fast and uneven I wonder if I'm going to pass out. I grip the counter to stable myself just in case.
"G-god I'm so scared," I practically whimper out. I can faintly hear myself crying out from being burned in the background under the men's cheering and chatter. If you didn't know any better you'd think they were watching a sports game.
"Me too..." he whispers back from where he's sitting on the floor, "all I feel sitting in here is anticipation, not knowing what they're gonna do next."
"Yeah... at least we have each other to talk to though, it's so much scarier when you're alone," I say looking out the window like I used to do waiting in here the first time. It's calming.
As calming as it possibly can be in this situation. I wish it could make the terrible hollow pit in my stomach go away.
I can't tell if the minutes feel like they're going really fast or painstakingly slow.
After a few more minutes or so I hear Chip yell at us from the living room. "Hey! We need some more beer in here!" He shouts.
"I got it," Lucas says standing up, "They seem to focus on you more anyway, so ill go out."
"Thank you, really," I respond. I don't think he realizes how much that really means to me.
"This is my favourite part!" I hear Hardhead exclaim loudly, then the tv becomes louder, so blaringly loud that it sounds like I have my ear flush against one of those really big box speakers. Lucas continues grabbing a case of beer from the fridge but we both turn our heads toward the tv at the sudden volume change.
It's the part where the drug kicks in and Hardhead has me on his lap facing the tripod camera, hand squeezing the life out of my beck. I can hear myself desperately struggling for air, trying to plead for help, something... for it all to stop- but the drug turns my words into mush. I can see it from another perspective this time, I can see my face losing colour and the sort of foggy memories of it come flooding back.
Then I see his hand trail down my stomach. My arms are weakly flailing out and trying to pull his other hand off of my neck. Then his hands are on my privates and in real life, I look away from the tv. Tears are falling down my face as I hear him verbally teasing me on the video, calling me a whore and laughing at me as I try to breathe. I was so drugged I don't even remember that.
"I bet you like that, dirty whore, don't you?" I hear him say. I start to bring my hands up to cover my ears.
The sound of a gasp and shattering glass fills the room and I jerk my head up to Lucas. He's holding the fridge door open and is staring at the tv, mouth agape and face horrified. It's like a train wreck- he just can't look away. The pack of beer he was holding is on the floor, bottles now in a million pieces scattered around, beer puddling in the tiles and spreading all over the place.
"Shit," I say, staring wide-eyed at the mess on the floor.
"What the fuck was that?!" Vicious yells from the living room.
Lucas snaps out of it then, looking down at the foam bubbles and liquid and glass all culminating together.
"Oh no--- What do I do?!" He whispers, voice cracking in panic. My heart is pounding in my chest harder now. Without much thought, I make a hasty decision.
"Don-don't worry-- I'll take the blame," I say, stepping closer to the broken box so it seems more believable. I hear the couch creaking and steps nearing the kitchen.
I just don't want to see him get hurt.
"Wait don--" Lucas starts to say but falls silent when Hardhead and Vicious walk through the door.
I can hear Hardheads voice echoing in my head, "Rule four; listen. Do what I say. If you don't, I'll punish you- if you make a mistake ill punish you too."
I know I've only known him for about two days, and the situation is deathly far from ideal, but I kind of see him as like a little brother, and I feel the strong obligation to protect him from these terrible terrible fucking people.
"What the hell are you two dogs doing in here?" Hardhead yells, looking down and seeing the mess between our feet. "Which one of you bitches did that?" He yells louder, his face getting angrier.
They take their beer really seriously.
Before Lucas can say anything I look Hardhead in the face and speak in my still semi-croaky voice, "I- I did it. I'm sorry Master." I say bowing my head after.
Lucas looks at me with wide worried eyes speaking, "No! I--"
"Shut the fuck up Runt! Go grab a mop and clean this shit up." Hardhead demands. Lucas brokenly stares between me and Hardhead. I can see the guilt on his face.
Viscous taps his foot, grumbling, "Do it now, Runt."
Lucas looks back at me again, and I give him a nod of encouragement. He frowns and reluctantly leaves to grab the stuff to clean.
"Now Mutt, you sit." Vicious instructs, hooking his finger through the collar loop and pulling me down, letting go when I allow myself to fall to my knees the rest of the way. I feel some of the glass slice into my knees and legs and I hiss, not daring to move though.
"I'm sorry Master's- it just, just slipped," I plead, seeing if I can maybe lessen whatever this punishment is going to be.
Hardhead chuckled evilly, "Oh you're gonna be sorry." He crossed his arms over his chest and takes a single step forward. Lucas gets back into the kitchen now, keeping his eyes trained to the floor as he starts sweeping some of the glass from the floor a little further away.
"Nevermind that for now Runt. Let's have a show. There's something I've been wanting to try for a while now. This is the perfect teaching moment..." he says creeping right up next to me. He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me awkwardly behind him into the living room where the rest of the men are still finishing the rest of the video. Vicious follows closely behind, tugging Lucas by the arm.
I rub my head when he lets go and tosses me to the floor. I hit the ground with a groan, the wounds on my chest bursting with pain, quickly scrambling to get on to my knees though, so I don't get in more trouble. I remember they like me in this position when I got into trouble before.
I whimper when I feel the glass in my knees push in deeper, and I try to pull as much as I can out when they turn away. I manage to get most of it out and I hold my hands over the wounds with pressure to hopefully stop the bleeding.
"Tie him up please," Hardhead says to Vicious louder than the rest of the conversation. Then he opens the door to the basement and quickly disappears down the stairs.
Vicious smirks, saying, "Don't mind if I do." He opens up a drawer of a dresser on a wall nearby and pulls out a few bundles of rope. They keep that stuff everywhere- because they're sadists.
He stalks toward me until he's behind me, and he shoves me onto my stomach. I reflexively put my arms out in front of me so they don't get crushed and see there's now blood smeared on my hands- more than I expected.
Vicious planted one of his knees on my back to keep me down and the other knee on one side of my body to trap me even more. He grabbed my arms and forced them behind my back. I grit my teeth when he tightly ties new ropes over the deep wounds from yesterday's ones. Then he takes hold of my elbows and jerks them closer together. I gasp and let out a surprised yelp. This would hurt regardless; because elbows are not supposed to bend that way, but it also brings my injured shoulder into an extremely uncomfortable position. I squirm and struggle without even realizing, kicking my feet slightly and raising my head, mouth open in a silent cry of anguish.
All I really notice is Lucas onlooking the scene with a deep frown, twiddling his fingers before a hand tangles in my hair and shoves my face into the rug on the floor.
"Calm it down there, doggy," Crazy laughs, pushing my head down more than should even be possible. The shag rug tickles the side of my face and I squeeze my eyes shut as I feel more rope wrap around my elbows. They pull taught, but not touching, and only because I'm not flexible enough to do that, because if I could, Vicious would have done it. There's no slack though, the rope is so tight that I can't move my arms apart at all, and he tied the space in the middle too, so I couldn't try to move them closer either. It's very uncomfortable, and my shoulder throbs harshly. Involuntary whimpers escape my lips. The men find that funny.
Then the knee on my back disappears, Crazy keeps his hold on my head, and I feel hands reappear on my legs, tying just above the bend of my knees and then my ankles too. I can't stop focusing on how tight the bonds are.
Once Vicious finishes, Crazy lets go of my head, and grasps me from under my arms, lifting me back up and positioning me back on my knees like a kid playing with a barbie doll. I let out a long breath of resignation. My hair is now a mess on top of my head and hanging in my face, reminding me of the bed head Sebastian says is so cute on me.
Hardhead comes back upstairs with a tote bag in hand. He must've gone down there to gather the stuff for whatever he wanted to try. The fact that it was something he wanted to try out scared me more, because I had no idea what it could possibly be.
He closed the basement door and walked a few steps toward another door about three feet down the wall. He opens it up and reveals something that makes my heart drop.
It's a cage.
A metal wired dog cage, only big enough to fit a medium-sized dog. It's rectangular, and the roof is short, way too cramped for a human.
I start freaking out, tugging against the ropes and jerking my body around, struggling futilely to get away.
"No, wait!" I cry as Hardhead starts walking toward me. I struggle more, tears falling down my face, trying to tilt backward but Vicious and Crazy hold me down in my place.
"This is what happens when you fuck up," Vicious says evilly, and I look around the room desperately, like there's anything I can do. The men are amused, and joking amongst each other, clinking beers and watching the scene unfold. I look to Lucas, and he's crying too; silent tears, pooling from his brown eyes. They're filled with so much guilt.
"I'll do i-" He starts to say, but when I realize what he's doing I cut him off.
"It's fine Lucas!" I shout panicked and wide-eyed. That's one thing I'm not going back on; I don't want him to get hurt.
When I speak Vicious violently backhands me, so hard that my head snaps to the side and I sob out.
"Shut up." He growls, then he tightly grips my jaw and straightens my face out so I'm looking forward at Hardhead instead of at Lucas, holding me there.
Hardhead comes toward us, sumping the contents of the bag onto the floor. It's a random assortment of things and I don't like any of them. Among those things is a muzzle- a fucking muzzle. My heart just pounds harder and harder, the tears just fall faster.
Hardhead crouches in front of me, right up close into my space. He reaches behind my neck and grabs hold of the collar. He unclasps the back piece and I almost feel a breath of relief coming until he pulls it tighter.
"This is an extra punishment for escaping," he says pulling it tighter and fumbling with it until he fastened it closed, "I'd say about two more notches is good, for now."
I feel my breath escape me, it becomes even more of a chore to breathe in-- it's miserable. I hate the feeling of being manhandled like this, having to let them touch me, feeling so helpless... no control.
I just want Sebastian to hold me and tell me it will all be okay.
Hardhead picks up a bag of cotton balls from the pile on the floor and he stuffs a few of them deep into my left ear. I try to pull away but Viscious just tightens his hold and corrects me the way they want me. The sound in the room distorts, everything is muffled on one side. He pushes the cotton in as much as possible, then places some sort of earbud on top that wraps around the base of my ear and fastens it so it won't fall out. My fighting does nothing to stop them mirroring this on my other ear.
I can barely hear anything after that-- only very slight chatter, but I can't make out what any of it means. A hand touches my cheek from behind me, and I don't even hear it coming. I jump and turn to see Crazy laughing. I don't hear that either, which is like a blessing and a curse at the same time. Vicious lets go of me when I turn.
On my way looking around the room Lucas catches my eye again. Chip is next to him this time, pulling him close to his side, like in a hug, but it's obviously not in a comforting way. Lucas is sort of shrunken into himself, but when he notices me looking he puts his fist to his chest and rubs it in a circular motion.
He's signing 'I'm sorry.'
I shake my head at him.
It's not his fault... and it's not mine either.
I look back at the closet. The cage feels like it's looming over me--- it terrifies me.
My vision goes black, and at first, I think I've passed out, but that's obviously not the case because I'm clearly still conscious. Then I realize that I've been blindfolded when I fell the knot tighten at the back of my head, hair pulling into it painfully. I flinch when they touch my face to adjust it.
"No, please..." I start to beg, "I'm sssorry, I'm so-rry-- p-please." My pleading is interrupted by sobs and hiccups. I can hardly even hear myself speaking, I mainly just feel the words rumble and vibrate in my chest as I speak them, and I don't like that feeling by itself.
I gasp for breath, facing wherever I think Hardhead is standing and continue again.
"Please I-" I was cut off by something being pushed into my mouth. I recoiled backwards instinctively, being stopped by someone standing behind me. What I now realize is a bit is shoved further in and I'm forced to bite down as my mouth is enveloped in leather and the leather straps pull taut against my skin so tight I feel like they're cutting in.
The muzzle...
Nothing happens for a few seconds. I feel a slight movement, then hands on my legs, and hands on my sides. One of the fingers hits the burn by my ribs and I let out a muffled whine, feeling the floor disappear from beneath me. I try to struggle again, fighting against them as hard as I can, though it's useless, and I quickly have to give up because the tight collar, the bit in my mouth and the leather residing over it leave me breathless. I suck in air from my uncovered nose desperately, having to focus on it alone because of how hard it is.
I'm not even claustrophobic, but the thought of being stuffed in that cage, in the closet, alone... scares me so much. It's even worse because I'm being deprived of nearly all of my senses.
Then I'm being set down and bent forward, pulled around and shoved until I feel the cold metal of the cage against my legs. They have me sitting on my knees again, bent so that I fit under the short roof. I can feel the wires against the skin on my exposed back and the back of my head as well.
I was thinking it couldn't get any worse when my head gets pulled downward harshly by the collar. I get surprised and jerk up reflexively only for someone to grab me by the hair and push me back down lower. I feel hands fumbling at the front of the collar and occasionally a bit of rope touching against different parts of my neck for a minute before they and the hand in my hair go away. I try to lift my head back up but I can't- it's held in place. They must have tied a rope from the collar loop to the bottom of the cage.
I realize they still aren't finished when my tied wrists are pulled up next. They get tied to the part of the cage where the roof meets the side. My hands are flush against it and some of my fingers are forced to stick out. The same thing happens to the rope on my elbows to the roof of the cage, making my arms nearly form a ninety-degree angle.
I'm left still and locked into the stressful position, then there's a slight vibration, followed by a larger one, then... nothing.
It must've been them closing the doors- shutting me off from everything completely, except for the cold metal beneath me and the throbbing, pulsing, pain. I can't decide if this is better or worse than what was originally planned for me today.
I mean it should be better, right?
There's no warm breath over my shoulder and on the nape of my neck, no hands trailing over my body, no breathy groans in my ears, no chapped lips over my skin and my mouth, no hands pulling my hair, nobody forcing themself onto me...
There's just nothing.
So why is my heart still racing?
Why does it feel like the walls are closing in?
I don't know. I don't know why I want to stay in and leave at the same time- why I can't decide even though the options seem easy.
I feel like it's only been a minute or so when my arms start to ache and my shoulder develops a raw stabbing pain, not unlike the way it felt when it was originally injured. I attempt to shift my position to relieve the ache, which is where I come into even more of a problem.
If I lean forward and bring my head low, which id hoped would allow my arms to move down more, it pulls on my shoulders. The rope securing my arms to the top of the cage makes sure my arms can't move when the rest of my body does, and therefore threatens to pull my shoulders out of their sockets, which especially doesn't bode well on the one that already has been.
When I try to do the opposite and lean my head backward, a similar problem with my arms arises, but to go along with it, they've somehow tied the collar so that it pulls tighter when I pull my head away from the floor, completely cutting off my airway. It feels just like when Hardhead was squeezing his hand around my throat.
If I return to the middle like I originally was, I realize that I have to give my effort to keep my head in the right position, or risk losing my arms... or suffocating.
I decide that I definitely want out.
Seemingly on cue, the pain of everything else seems to slam into me full force, like all the adrenaline of the situation has fully crashed. If I have to hold this position... then I don't know how long I can last... and I don't know how long they're going to keep me in here.
Tears soak through the cloth blindfold and I can't manage to get my sobbing under control, which in turn spirals away the focus I had kept on my breathing. I start to panic, my chest tightening. I'm going to die.
Holy shit. I'm going to die.
I have a hard time doing it, but I scream, as loud as I can through the muzzle. I can't even tell if I made any noticeable noise or not, I can only feel the rumble in my chest, hear my own racing heartbeat. I have to wait a second before I do it again, jerking my body as much as I can -which isn't very much- and squeezing my eyes shut tight. My mouth feels dry because of the bit pushing on my tongue, the pain in my throat comes back full force. My attempts to move make the new cuts on my knees hurt. Everything hurts.
I can't fucking breathe.
Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.
In my moment of total desperation I think about it- Sebastian- think about him, his soothing voice.
"Breathe baby, breathe," I can hear him say, "Just focus on me Cuci, in... and out."
I remember how he helps me through a panic attack, ''I'll do it with you, just copy me,' and I can almost see him in front of me, appearing in the darkness, taking deep breaths in for me to mimic.
And I do.
I suck in a large breath through my nose, following the fake Sebastian that I'm so inclined to think is real. I'm staring into his blue eyes, and he's staring back into mine. He raises his hand, and lightly places it on my cheek, mostly resting over the tight leather, and he whispers to me, but I don't know what he's saying, all I hear is the noise. I want to lean into his touch, but I cant-- I want him to hug me tight, and kiss me, but I can't ask him to either. He looks so real- but he's not... right?
I can't tell, but it doesn't matter, I just match his breaths until they're back under control- the tint bit of control I have over them. He whispers more to me, leans forward and gives me the lightest kiss on the forehead, then disappears, a puff of smoke into the air, like it was blown from Hardheads very own cigarette.
I wanted to laugh, a bitter laugh... it can't have been that long yet, and I'm already losing it. But obviously, I couldn't. I can't do anything.
I don't know how long later it was when my tears had dried up, the hallucinations had been plaguing me for so long. I could feel cold hands on my sides, my hips, feeling over my shivering body, grabbing at the shorts, and I couldn't tell if they were real, but I couldn't even manage to care, because I had to focus on breathing and keeping my head up.
I'm so fucking tired. My throat is dry-- it burns, I can't feel my arms, my legs sting, my wrists and ankles never had time to recover from yesterday, the direction of me trying to move rubs against my burns, everything sore, my feet are numb from sitting on my knees for so long, I'm seeing random shapes and hearing random things. I'm losing my mind.
I just want to lay my head down, close my eyes, relax, sleep.
Please let me sleep.
It gets to a point where my eyes drift closed, and it gets harder and harder to open them back up each time. So hard I eventually resort to leaning forward slightly every time I start to drift asleep so it relights the pain in my shoulders and forces me to stay awake. I just have to remind myself; if I fall asleep ill pull my shoulders out.
I'm exhausted. My brain is fuzzy. I don't know how long I've been in here in this stress position. I don't know how much longer I have to hold it, but I hope it'll be over soon.
If they let me out ill be good, I'll be so good for them. No mistakes...
So good...