Chapter Text
He doesn't know how long he has been in this cycle. First, he's taken, then he's bound, then the screaming and the hitting, only then to abandon him in some hole somewhere.
The Detective, The Man… His Aunt…
Each new place has a routine, but it’s all the same, in the end. It’s a cycle that all blends together, like watching a ceiling fan go around.
It’s like that here in this new hole. There’s a routine here. It’s dark, and he can’t open his eyes right anyway, so he can only hear. He just sits in that fiberglass tub, bones sinking through his flesh as he sits and waits and sits and listens. Every new sound an alarm, because it could be The Man approaching. The worst sounds are the roll of wheels over uneven pavement and boots on floorboards. Then he Knows The Man is coming. Then comes pain.
…
Some time ago the man had started drinking. The smell was different from the grape-aid his aunt made him drink back home (the metallic burn of blood in his nose could also be making the smell different), but the way the man moaned and gagged sometimes after a swig reminded him of it. The Man's words even slurred after enough of it.
Why would he choose to drink something like that? Something that was clearly making him sick? Alex’s aunt had to force him every time. Well. Sometimes he wasn’t forced. Sometimes he’d get so lost and scared… Sometimes he’d sneak a swig just to go away. Don’t tell his aunt that.
Why, out of the two of them, does The Man think he is the one more deserving of being allowed that escape? He’s not the one in a hole.
Sometimes Alex would drink a lot of it. Too much of it. So much that after a while, he couldn’t move his body anymore. He’d just be stuck like that while things happened to him, and he could hear the devil laugh at him the whole while. Sometimes one devil is better than the other, and that’s the devil he’d choose. Don’t tell his aunt that.
The Man sits weeping against the cell wall, luxuriously escaping into that bottle. Alex sits next to him, not having enough left to cry, to scream, so do anything but stare into the darkness.
…
He hasn't been given anything to drink in some time. Not water or grape-aid or anything.
He can only suck so much moisture from his waterlogged clothes, which now all sit in a pile by his feet. He had to take everything off. They held the burning tight to his skin.
They now lay icy cold. Sometimes his skin gets so hot it pounds, and they’re nice against him. Sometimes the November (December? January? February?) chill creeps back in and he wishes he had something to keep him warm and dry.
It's been a while since the last attack. (Where is The Man now?) Been a while since he last slept. The effort to keep his body stable in the tub and the pain that came when he relaxed too much were unbearable. The pain from staying tense and curled up for so long and all his weight on a few points of pressure was just as bad. He was hot, too hot, even as the water dried on his skin and froze in his hair. He could feel his heartbeat in his entire body, under his too tight and too loose skin, and it wasn't letting up. It made him dizzy.
The last attack was… It could have been a day ago. It could have been an hour ago. It could have been a week ago. (Where is The Man now?) The ceiling fan of his life just whirred and whirred above him as a blur. The only indicators of time he had were shadows over the hole in his cage and the thick ticklish pulses of blood through his body.
…
He could hear the sound of tires rolling over the rugged pavement outside again. Pain surely to follow.
It took only a few throbs through his veins for the hole in the wall to be shadowed again.
A hot and cold slimy smooth velvety head poked through the hole in his cage.
“You feel him?”
Yes, he could. Maybe it was there, maybe it wasn’t. He could feel it, though.
“He’s going all the way in if you don’t start talking.”
Its forked tongue lapped at his cheek.
Alex was too scared to speak. Why couldn’t he understand that every time he hurt and frightened him, it pushed his voice further and further down?
Not like it mattered if he talked, anyway. He talks, he’s in the hole. He clams up, he in the hole.
He’s just a toy to everyone. Everyone just loves confusing him and pushing him and pushing him down into that little corner of himself where he’s just a little kid trapped in a hole, again.
And just like that time when he was a dumb kid that spoke too much to the wrong person, he's trapped in a hole with… with…
Rainbow black muscle fed its way through the hole. The thick snake dropped onto his chest, and slithered down his belly, and onto his lap, and between his thighs, and, and, and…
He screamed.
He screamed and screamed, thrashed and banged on the walls and scratched and threw his entire weight against the plywood again and again. It bowed out more than it ever had before but the nails still held on fast. Splinters dug into the quick of his nails and he could feel the hot trickle of fluid as blisters burst open all over his body. His throat stretched and tore and split.
There was banging and thudding all around him. In his head and in his ears and his chest and in his cage and down the hall… And in the bathroom with him…
The wood was tearing and cracking, and now he saw more light than he could stand. Before he could register what was happening, he was already slumped over the broken board and the edge of the tub.
A sudden pain stunned him. Jagged edges dug into the delicate skin of his belly and deep into his solar plexus, and only a windy hiss could come out of his lungs now.
“Alex Jones?”
Two large hands grabbed hold of his shoulders and pushed his upper torso back over his hips in the tub.
“Careful, Alex, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
This wasn’t The Man. It was too bright, and everything was still a blur of shapes and rainbow trails moving across his vision, but the shape of this man was different from the other two. The voice was familiar, too.
“Hey, hey, hey…. I got you.”
Alex wheezed.
“I’m Detective Loki. I’m here to help you.”
Alex’s limbs stilled, and Loki got a better look at what he was dealing with here. Shock ran through him. Jesus, he was fucked up.
“I’m here to help you, Alex. I’ve already called for help. We’re going to get you out of here and take you to a hospital.”
Alex could see his face better now, his (forced, tight, worried, scared, kind) smile and bright eyes framed in light and reverberating color. It was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
“You’re safe now.”
The colors around Loki’s face warbled in and out. Alex closed his eyes and didn’t open them again for some time.