This was on a different book but I'm organizing my page for when I'm officially logging out and moved this here. I wanted to make sure this stayed since it is one of my favorites.
Eh- I'm giving this a R rating so highly advised to be 18+ but I'm not gonna stop anyone. It's not really for the Many May either since it's not for the prompt. It just fits into the book as it is Grian and Dream focused.
MAJOR TW!!
MAJOR TW!!
MAJOR TW!!!
Don't forget: Rated R
If you're sensitive, maybe don't even read the warnings? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I've been wanting to write this stuff and now that I have a separate book from my main with a focus on two angsty people I'm doing it.
TW: manipulation, death/murder, non-consensual actions, depression, panic attacks, stress positioning, torture, blood, major injuries, suicide, self-harm, chains/rope, kidnapping, mentions of torture – if I've missed any let me know
Just knowing where I want to go with this is making me nervous.
Inhale.
Hits repeat on my torture playlist.
Exhale.
Babydoll by Dominic Fike starts playing - would recommend
Let's go...
Grian POV-
Blood dripped down my face as I slouched against the cold wall. It was the most comfortable position, even with the enflamed wounds on my back making each breath weak and shaky. A strange numbing had filtered into my brain over the last few weeks... months... years...
I had no way to tell time in this blood-stained room that I had begun to call home.
How one could call a place like this home, I had no idea. At least he never hurt me here. I was safe here.
I knew I was gone. Deep down, I knew that I was no longer Grian. He made sure I knew that as he claimed me as his, the scars a never ended reminder.
But those days when he didn't hit me. Those were the worst.
I closed my eyes as the blood dripped into them and in to my mouth, the taste of iron barely making me gag anymore. Not like I had anything in my stomach.
The stark lights of the white room still tortured my sore eyes as I licked the blood lightly off my swollen lips. It was the one good thing in this place. I was his. He made sure I would never forget that, but I was still his.
I could hardly remember anything from before I became his. Faces and names floated across my half-conscious mind, yet one always stood out over the others. Mumbo.
I knew I had some sort of relationship with him, but it could be nothing like being his.
A jangle on the handle in front of me caught my attention and I immediately shoved myself from the wall, blood pouring in my mouth as I bit back a harsh whine of pain. I could feel each scar on my swollen back break open, warm liquid trickling down my back, mixing with the blood on my legs and the ground.
I inhaled once, before pushing my face to the floor, my butt in the air in a bowing like submission position he had taught me. It put a nasty strain on the skin, and therefore injuries, on my back and knees, but it was better than the positions he would mostly likely strap me into if I wasn't like this the moment he walked in.
"Look who's all cute and ready for me."
I couldn't stop the shiver running down my back at his voice, the words praising me but his tone dull and dangerous.
"Ready to have some fun my doll?"
I didn't move until he grabbed me by the hair at the back of my head pulling me out of my bent position. My eyes landed on the familiar white mask with the strange smiley drawn on it. His blond hair was slicked back with red streaks through it as fresh blood dripped down the right side.
One of his hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his lime hoodie as the hand holding my hair released me, letting my head flopped down in exhaustion at the same time as a drop of blood fell from his mask and onto his hoodie.
I tried to focus on the new stain as my vision slowly went black. Being yanked up so fast put a toll on my weak heart as it attempted to pumped the necessary blood to my brain. Everything felt so sluggish as he lifted the mask slightly and grabbed my chin, placing his lips against mine, his teeth immediately bruising my lips.
My vision was fading fast now with the lack of oxygen and as I was kissed harshly, my eyes closed as my head rolled back.
Then a harsh breath of air filled my mouth, forcing its way into my lungs. "I can't have you blacking out yet. I haven't had any fun."
My whole body felt heavy as I struggled to open my eyes, only to be met with the room of my nightmares. Somewhere between him kissing me in my room and nearly passing out, he had dragged me to a large white room. The floor was stained a permanent pink, it being especially dark in the middle of the room where a rack sat beside another table with straps for arms, legs and the neck.
Against the back wall stood various heights of chains and ropes, including some on the roof and the floor. To the right were his tools and toys as he called them, but the left of the room was the worst. Hanging on the wall was the occasional torture trap or death machine, even a guillotine in the far back corner. The floor there was still a terrifying dark red, glistening in the fluorescent lights.
If I had any spit in my mouth, I would have swallowed, but my throat had closed up. My hands shook where they were pressed against his hoodie still, making him tilt his head.
"It's not your turn today. I'm giving you the day off after the flogging yesterday. You did so good yesterday, screaming so pretty for your master."
I knew in the logic of my mind that the flutter of my heart was wrong. It was more than wrong. It was gruesome, but sanity had fled me long ago. I was just waiting for the death which he didn't seem to give me.
I nodded lightly to my captor as he hauled me to the far wall. "How would you like to stand for me today?"
I knew better than offer my opinion. I had been strung up to each of these stations more than once, watching countless people die as I bled out on the floor after his fun on me. The chains nearest the guillotine, even though I would usually end up standing in blood, was the best. It forced me into a crouched position on my toes. A wooden block (if he was nice) would be placed on my back as my arms would be forced behind me and over the block. A chain around my neck and wrists would prevent me from moving.
The worst was right in the dead center on the wall. My legs would be chained in just the right way to force my feet to be flat against the wall while a rope held my arms back. I would be leaning at an angle, my neck sometimes wrapped with rope from above as well, forcing me to not only lean heavily on my shoulder joints but also keep my head up and watch his 'fun'.
The rope on my arms broke once in the early days and he had to quickly slice the one on my neck off as I fell forward, the chains on my legs making the bone in my shins snap clean in half. I hadn't been able to walk normally ever since even though he had surgically fixed it.
I can't imagine him being a doctor though.
"Does my doll want that one?"
I rolled my head across my shoulders so I was no longer staring at the middle station only to be met by his mask. I weakly shook my head as he shrugged.
"But you look to pretty so bent over. Especially being forced to hold you head up to me, your neck so exposed just for me."
I shivered again at his words before glancing at a station beside the worst without thinking.
"Good choice doll. That's my favourite."
I didn't even struggle as my hands were wrapped in a thick rope. He released me, my knees buckling and hitting the concrete floor with a painful bang. I mentally noted the lack of crack so they weren't broken. I also didn't notice anything anymore, except the sounds of bones breaking and screams so I barely registered as my hands began to lift above my head, slowly pulling me up with it.
He was standing a few steps away, closely twisting a pully as my shoulders popped from the weight of my body beneath them. I don't even know how many times they had dislocated at this point but I could hardly even feel it anymore, anticipating what was coming later. My arms were instantly numb as my feet fought to keep contact with the floor so I could alleviate some of the pressure in my shoulders.
"How am I going to keep your head up? I've got a special plan with my newest catch that you must see."
He didn't even give me a chance to think as my head was forced back further than it should have been able to go before my chin was rested on two cold metal prongs, two others digging into my neck. I instinctively forced my head up higher away from the metal pole sitting between my chin and neck but it fit just perfectly so I couldn't get away. I could only avoid injury.
"Wait here for me. No passing out yet."
I watched as he left the room and within a few moments, I could hear the distinct screaming getting louder before nearly shattering my ear drums as he dragged a girl with blonde hair into the room. It looked like it was unprofessionally chopped short, like everyone who every came into this room. He liked to keep their hair short. Easier to see the blood he would say.
She was sobbing as she looked around the room, her eyes widening as she caught my eye and I watched as they traced down my neck where the device was stuck.
He continued to drag her over to the table in the middle, tossing her up onto the rack machine with ease as he worked on tying up her arms and legs.
I had never watched the rack machine before, but I knew what it did and my hips definitely didn't forget. He looked so giddy as he pranced around the room, collecting different items before heading to the rack machine and began twisting the crank. It only took a moment before tortured screams echoed around the room, piercing the fog in my brain and I couldn't stop myself from closing my eyes from the sight in front of me.
The screaming quickly died out, followed with some muffled whimpers of pain.
"Oh babydoll. Don't hide those pretty eyes." A coarse hand was tracing over my lips as he talked and I gently opened my eyes right into the black dots of the mask. "There... I like being able to see your eyes as I work."
He stepped back and my eyes landed on the blonde. A gag had been stuffed into her mouth as her limbs were stretched beyond the normal and I could clearly see one shoulder dislocated and an ankle broken. Her face was tear stained. He walked back to the table, glancing up at me before grabbing a knife from a table, hovering it over her stomach.
He dug it into her, blood spilling to the table as she was cut open.
My mind blacked out as screams made their way from behind the gag. I kept my eyes open, but they were focused on the masked man, his shoulders slouched slightly, occasionally turning redder as blood was flung up.
He was clearly playing with the girl, and the moment the screams ended, he looked up at me, a pulsing mass in one hand and rope looking stuff slipping between the fingers of his other.
I could feel my eyes rolling into the back of my head, but if I passed out, I'd kill myself with the iron bar on my neck. He seemed to notice this as he walked towards me, his blood covered hands running through his hair, slicking it back further.
Then his disgusting hand gripped the back of my head and he forced it back far enough for my neck to crack loudly, but the bar was gone. My head flopped forward in relief as I could feel the blood in my hair drip down my neck.
"I'll come get you tomorrow. You'll be good for me right?"
I nodded again, listening to him leave the room, the girl on the table left to keep me company, her guts completely spread around the table.
I couldn't be here any longer. I knew I was slowly dying and I would rather fight for freedom and have him kill me on the spot than stay here any longer. The thought of the sun or grass sparked a fire under my skin as I tried to shift my wrists.
A scream ripped from my mouth as my sore shoulders were dislocate further. But I couldn't give up. I could feel the rope around my wrists. It was fairly loose but I still had to twist my wrist terribly.
Biting down on my lip, I felt my wrist snap, but slip out, followed by the other. I hit the floor heavily as my arms went numb from pain as shock was filtering into my body. I couldn't stop now though so I rolled myself over and slowly sat up, leaning against the wall behind me.
Making my way to standing was slow as I had no use of one arm and barely any use in my other. My injured legs felt shaky and weak, pain shooting up and down my tibia. I took one hesitant step, the first one I had taken alone in months.
Pain blinded me, but I chomped down harder on my lip, determined to get out. I made it to the hallway, stumbling, as I saw a large metal door to my left. It was the opposite way from my room as I stumbled towards it, luckily finding a button which opened the door with a loud creaking.
I had to close my eyes as the sun filtered into the dark hallway. The warmth of it was something I hadn't felt in months, but I didn't have time to bask in it as an image of the mask flashed in me brain. I don't know when he'll come back.
I was only two steps away from freedom but something was holding me back. I should have continued running regardless of my injuries, but the idea of leaving him left a gapping whole in my heart.
I tried to remind myself that Mumbo was waiting. I tried to picture his face, but all I got was his mask.
Swallowing back the strange feelings, I stepped onto the soft ground, a strange change from the concrete of my cell. Another step forward ended in my collapsing to the ground, pain coursing through my body, especially my legs from the stress positions he had left me in.
I had to get up. I had to keep moving. But my body froze as I heard a voice from behind me, calling out my name.
"Baby doll!"
My body froze, a strange mixture of joy from him being so near to me, but also a primal need to run. To run until I can't run any further.
I slowly turn to see him in the doorway which I had just opened. He'd changed his clothes and wiped off of his mask, the clean white a stark reminder of my room.
I naturally took a step towards him, my body almost curling in on itself out of habit. He must have noticed my hesitance to bow before him as his head tilt to the side, a small hum escaping his mouth.
I took another step forward as he stood perfectly still, watching me stumble on my legs.
"GRIAN!"
That's something I haven't heard in a long time. It sounded almost safe, but the moment he heard it, he lunged forward, grabbing my arm and pulling me against his chest. I gasped in pain only to have my mouth and nose covered by his large hand.
Rustling was heard around me, but I could careless as I struggled to breathe. His other hand was wrapped around my waist, his hand holding onto my broken wrist making me see spots.
Or were those something else?
-------
I was breathing. Each breath sent shots of pain throughout my ribs and shoulders, but I was breathing.
It was awful.
Clashing weapons could be heard nearby as I laid with my eyes closed, wondering how I was still here. Why I was.
I didn't want to be here anymore.
Death would be so much sweeter, but I guess the Grim Reapers were on lunch break or something.
I just focused on the rise and fall of my breath. The air entering my nose travelled through my swollen and unused vocal cords and into my bruised chest. I another breath and this time I focused as it escaped my nose, tickling my lips slightly, just like he sometimes would.
I opened my eyes and blinked a few times at the sky before rolling my head to the side so I could see the commotion.
There he was. In the middle of a fight with another man that I recognized. My mind spun as I tried to remember anything from before I had been taken. There was a man. Tall and with dark hair and a well-kept moustache.
Mumbo.
My boyfriend?
My eyes closed again in exhaustion as I finally noticed someone carefully cleaning and wrapping the different wounds on my body, currently focusing on my legs. My shoulders were in the correct spot and my wrist was splinted, but I didn't care.
I couldn't feel anything anyway.
I just wanted to get away from here, but I wanted him again. I couldn't understand it.
So, I just resolved myself to being bandaged while I watched the battle. A third person had joined in. He was wearing light green like him, but instead of a mask, the third had a robotic eye.
Iskall.
"Grian?"
I glance back towards the man bandaging me. He had green eyes and a scar tracing down his face. My best friend Scar. Feeling more relaxed at knowing who was fixing me up, I returned my focus to the battle. Scar seemed to notice my gaze as he gently rested a hand on my elbow.
"You're safe now. We're gonna get you home."
In that moment, I heard him gasp. His back was towards me, but Mumbo stood there, his sword dripping blood.
My heart cracked as my mind spun in the same moment as he fell to his knees. His hands were around his front as I saw his head turn slightly towards me. Then he fell to the ground, his body shaking for a moment before stilling.
He was dead.
I was supposed to be the one to die.
It was all my fault.
If I hadn't run, then he would be okay.
I killed him.
My breath was uneven and shallow and shoved Scar off of me as I rolled onto my feet. I could stand better now with splints strapped to my legs, but my whole body shook as I ran to him. Mumbo noticed me and dropped his sword and lifted his arms to me.
I looked at him. This was supposed to be my boyfriend.
I felt nothing.
He clearly felt everything though as tears spilled down his face and he muttered my name over and over.
No. That wasn't my name. I am his baby doll.
Shoving past Mumbo, I collapsed by the unmoving body of my capture but of the man I somehow fell in love with. I reached my good hand out, I lifted his mask slightly and leaned over, planting a kiss to his cold lips.
Hands were pulling me away, words filtering in my mind about safety and Stockholm syndrome and manipulation. I heard none of it.
A hand grazed my back and I screamed at the pain. Another gripped my shoulder and a whimper shook my lips. They didn't let go though.
They were just like him.
Everyone was just the same. They wanted to hurt me and take advantage of me. Use me for their own pleasure.
Under his care, I knew who I was. I was his baby doll.
If he can't have me, no one can.
And the pain will be gone.
They didn't let me go. They never did and I was soon lying in a soft bed in a place I hardly remembered as home.
The days past slowly.
The door was lock from the outside and the windows were filled in after I shattered one and tried slicing my own neck with it.
Mumbo came to visit every day with food and different juices. He would talk about memories we had shared. He told me of when he first asked me out and how I had forgotten on the day of so when he had shown up to pick me up, I was apparently very confused.
He talked about when we told our friends we were dating and how Iskall and Scar had made a bet as to if it would really happen or not. Scar won.
Iskall and Scar visited once and awhile as well, mostly Scar when he would come to redress my wounds. He talked about his worries for my legs which had healed, but terribly but that he had hope that with some physical therapy, I would be functioning again.
Throughout it all, I never talked. I haven't talked since he nearly killed me trying to surgically ruin my vocal cords. It was safer that way.
Then the day finally came when they slipped up.
Mumbo came in with a tray of food as usual, but it was steak. My first thought was knife.
And there it was. Sparkling in the light.
I ate in silence, munching on the food carefully until Mumbo finished. I handed him my tray, leaving the knife tucked under my covers. My fingers ran over it as Mumbo told me he loved me and that he would be right back. I forced a smile, knowing that what I was about to do would probably ruin this man.
But if he can't have me, no one can.
The door closed and locked as I lifted the knife from its spot. I studied my reflection in it for a moment. My blond hair was tangled and wild since I wouldn't let anyone cut it. It reminded me of him and how he'd grasp my hair, pulling on it harshly when I wouldn't listen or when he'd run his hands through it sweetly after a particularly harsh punishment.
My eyes were dull, deep bags prominent on my pale skin and my cheeks and lips were scarred from cuts and bite marks.
I twisted the knife, running the sharp edge over my fingers, watching as red droplets formed and dripped onto the white of the sheets. I contemplated the most painful way to end it, but the thoughts quickly fled my mind as a commotion outside of my door appeared and the handle began to shake.
"Grian! I know you have a knife. Please listen to me. It's going to be okay. I love you already. Just- just hold on."
Mumbo's fear laced voice seemed to part the fog in my brain for a few moments, but my hands were moving already and I didn't try to stop them as a sharp pain shot through my neck.
I pushed the knife in deeper, following the scar already there as the door opened.
My breath was stuck as Mumbo's face went pale, his eyes wide in panic. I was losing focus as I swallowed harshly, making the knife shift a bit. I forced myself to hit Mumbo's eyes anyway.
"I love you Mumbo."
My voice was harsh and pained and each movement sent shock waves through my body, but I had to say it. He needed to know that he had saved me in some way. I couldn't stay in the world any longer. I couldn't live with the pain, with the memories, or with the pity.
I needed to take control of my own life again. And this was the only way I knew how.
Mumbo seemed to understand as he moved towards me, rest a hand on my cheek.
"I'm sorry I couldn't save you Grian."
My hands slipped from the knife as I felt my body going cold. I kept my eyes open and looking into Mumbo's eyes, knowing it was over.
The pain was finally gone. The memories were finally gone.
Mumbo's hand gently lifted to my eyes and closed them for me as the final breath left my chest to the feeling of lips on my own.
Then I slipped into a sleep.
An eternal sleep.
A sleep where I would be free from any dreams.