Tom's Perspective
-Two Weeks Later-
I awoke to the familiar and freezing feeling of my surroundings, once again reminding me that I was asleep in a stone cell. I shakily got up and rubbed my arms, attempting to warm up with friction. My teeth were practically chattering. I pushed my tired body against the bars of my cell and squinted so I could see the digital clock in the hall. It was only 5:30 A.M. I had awoken too early, due to how cold it was. I pressed against the bars and quivered, my whole body begging for something to warm me up. I had the sniffles and felt dizzy. Maybe I'm getting sick. Maybe finally, I will die. Spending time with a certified psychopath who kills for fun is not my vision of a perfect world. Especially when that murderer leaves me in a cold dark cell to rot away in at night. Then he drags me through the halls and forces me to sit in his office. I'm so fed up with all of this already. I waited and stared at the clock as minutes inched by, waiting for six. Even if I didn't want Tord to come and drag me out, his office was really warm compared to this freezing cell.
Of course I had to realize this quickly and behave, because otherwise he would leave me in this ice cold cell all day. I would probably get a cold and feel miserable, but the cold wouldn't kill me. Anything that could really kill me was obviously off limits, because then my torture would end. That included being fed one meal a day, which was picked by Tord. He was keeping me on a tight leash, not allowing me any freedom. He would make it even worse when I acted out. I knew and he knew that if I just listened, my life would be better right now. I might even be in a warm bed, not sniffling and feeling numb. But I'm not listening to that sadist, and he can't make me. Once the clock reached six eleven, I could hear familiar clacking. He was here to drag me out into the halls again. I retracted from the bars and backed up, crossing my arms. I watched as the familiar light brunette opened the cell door. "Well hello Tom, don't you look chilly today?" He commented with a sneer. I huffed and glared at him. "Just let me out already, you dick." I hissed out and he grinned.
"Say please." He demanded, taking off his jacket at the same time. I stared at the jacket that he was offering to me. "... Please let me out already you dickhead-." I huffed and he laughed, gently wrapping me in the coat. i huffed and slapped his hand away, putting it on by myself. He strutted out with the usual bloated level of overconfidence, but this time he wasn't pulling on my leash. My foot automatically began stepping, but I stopped myself. He was treating me like an unleashed puppy, huh? I'm not following him. I instead stood there as he walked off, holding the cologne drenched coat tightly around my quivering body. I felt my rebellious confidence growing, until my collar suddenly gave a warning jolt. My newly "trained" instincts set in, and I quickly sprinted up to where Tord was walking at a casual pace. I huffed, yet again angry at this controlling collar. I scratched at it like I usually did, opening the newly scabbed scars from last night's attempts. I didn't care if it hurt, I wanted the damn thing off. And I wanted a shower. And I want to have a breakfast. All of these unmet conditions made me grumpier and I slowed my walking so that I wasn't as close to Tord.
I didn't want to see his stupid smug expression. I glared harsh daggers into the back of the Norski's head and snuggled closer into the unfamiliar cloth of his jacket. At least he hasn't really hurt me since that cut on my arm. It was still healing, and it made me more sour. I was led into the warm office painted red and immediately got into the visitor's chair, pushing against it and staying in the warm jacket. I was so cold still. Tord didn't even glance at me and went through his routine, drinking a delicious smelling mug of coffee and filing through papers while checking his schedule. I never let him focus for long, as payback for everything he's doing. "Why didn't you use my stupid leash?" I hissed, glaring coldly at him. He looked up from his papers and snickered. "I wanted to see what you would do~ you reacted how I imagined. After all, it's only your second week. You'll get used to your restrictions and be happier." He informed me and took another swig of dark coffee. So he really was just testing how much I had fallen into his routine that he forces me to participate in.
"I'm never going to get used to this shit, you damn Commie. Why can't you just let me go?" I snapped angrily, which provoked him. He sat up straight and stared down at me, being menacing and demeaning. I glared at him and lowered my head reflexively. "What?" I hissed. "Answer the fucking question." I stood my ground, but nothing changed. There was just a daunting silence. He suddenly yanked me forward by my collar and gripped it harshly. "You will get used to this whether you like it or not, and you are mine now. You don't get to ask "why", only do as I tell you." He told me with a cold, authoritative tone. "Shut up! I hate you!" I yelled like a rebellious teen and shoved him away, falling back into my seat. The room sat in a dead cold silence, which made my anxiety worse. I held the warm coat tightly around my body, digging my nails into the dark blue fabric. I stared at the ground with a nervous expression, a small frown and tense brows. I want to leave. I want to go back to before I had to deal with Tord. I want to go back to Edd and Matt and just watch stupid movies while relaxing. I want to cuddle and even put up with their stupid habits. I want everything back.
I listened as pen returned to paper, and quiet gliding of ink could be heard. I hate him so much that it's not even funny. To him it is. It's all just a sick joke to him. My stomach inconveniently whined, grumbling for food that I wouldn't be getting for hours. I held my painfully hungry stomach and stayed silent. It hurt, but I wasn't going to say anything to him. I didn't want to talk to that devil man. I listened as the lightweight pen was promptly dropped on his desk and I looked over, nervous and curious. I shrunk back in the coat and looked away from the caramel haired man. What is Tord up to now? I heard the 'clack, clack, clack..' of his boots as he left the room, the door slamming shut as he exited. Maybe this is good. Maybe he was leaving for a meeting. Maybe I could sneak out. I got up from my previously occupied seat and quickly ran out of the door, sprinting through the halls. My heart was racing. My mind was throbbing with stress and adrenaline. Nobody was even trying to stop me because they assumed Tord was coming to control me.
I suddenly slammed into a large weight, falling back. I heard the other person fall down with a grunt, and I looked at the person I had accidentally hit. Paul was on the ground across from me, obviously pissed about the collision. I stared at him nervously and quickly forced my sore body to get up, shaking because I felt weak and in pain. I got my footing before Paul could get up and began running once more, with haste. He would definitely be chasing me, and I don't want to get caught. I ran through hallways that I didn't recognize, pushing past soldiers and tripping. Once I had fallen face first, I stayed there. I'm so cold and weak. I'm hungry and tired. I feel miserable. The air had been knocked out of me, and I could hear footsteps approaching on the cold tile floors. I flinched as a hand harshly yanked me up by my collar, and I was face to face with Paul and Patryk. I stared at them rather sadly and let the pair pull me onto my feet. "Why are you running? Haven't you learned that you can't escape?" Pat scorned and I stared at the ground.
I didn't feel like saying anything, I just want to leave so badly. I felt a usually harsh hand gently grip my shoulder. I looked up at the comforter and stared at Pat. "Jeez.. Tord has been really harsh on you huh? You look like you're losing weight pretty fast." He commented, seemingly annoyed. He then sighed and took away his hand. "Well Tom.. Since Tord seemingly doesn't know or care where you are right now, do you want anything to eat?" He offered kindly and Paul looked at him surprised. "But Pat, we c-." "Oh Tord doesn't decide everything for us- come on-." Pat snapped and dragged me by the arm. I quickly began walking at his speedy pace and Paul followed, still nervous. "Pau~ I didn't mean to sound angry." Pat sang his name and smiled warmly at the stronger man. Paul seemed at ease by this and his cheeks lit up. "It's alright Pat. I like it when you're angry~." He teased and I cringed at the implications. I tried my best not to pass a snarky comment, seeming as I was being brought to a food heaven.
I listened as their conversations went deeper into flirting territory, though I wish I didn't have ears. "Oh you dirty brute~ you're too cute to stay angry at." Pat purred out affectionately to his partner, loosening his once restrictive grip on my arm. They continued this sickening chatter until I was sat down in the cafeteria of sorts. I felt happy for the first time in a while. Something as small as being fed, which would be normal before all of this, was making me happy. I felt pathetic, but I don't care at this point. I could smell waffles and pancakes and blueberries. I was surprised they didn't just serve disgusting mush. An army with delectable food is something people don't normally link together. However here I was, chowing down on blueberry waffles and being told to slow down so that I don't choke or puke. After about a waffle and a half, I had to listen before I hurled. I laid back in the unfamiliar plastic chair as a calloused hand rubbed my back. I felt so happy tasting such a good meal. Tord would always just shove some sub-par scraps onto a plate as an excuse for a meal. Now I was eating a full on nutritional meal with chocolate milk. I relaxed as I tuned into the voice that was talking. "So, feeling a little better Tom?" Pat asked as he continued to rub my back. I simply nodded in response, sleepy. My tired eyelids hung over my vision, enclosing around it until I was beginning to fall asleep. My mind easily drifted away, already desperate to sleep.