Chapter Text
Renfield couldn’t go back to his apartment. The place that had finally felt like a home to him for the first time In a century was ripped away from him. He couldn’t bear the thought of returning to It, not with the horrible memories that quickly attached themselves to the orange painted walls.
There was no escape from his Master’s abuse, even In his safe haven that was supposed to deter the monster, but Instead led the beast right to It. Dracula had sucked all of the colour from Renfield’s world In that moment, trying to drag him back Into the darkness that he lured the weak man Into all those years again, draining the tiniest bit of hope within him that he had fought to keep for so long.
Now he has escaped. Mast- Dracula Is dead. And Renfield Is alive.
He’s free. He’s safe.
These were Rebecca’s attempts at reassuring him. They were nice for a short while, until Renfield snapped back Into reality. Dracula wouldn’t be dead for long. His Master was healing already. Renfield could feel It getting worse every day, his desire for bugs growing stronger, his need to submit discomforting his new roommate.
Knowing that he’s terrified of his apartment now, Rebecca gave him a place to stay In her own until he gets back on his feet - how funny It Is that she thinks he can do such a thing. He resides on her sofa, though his dreams tormented him throughout the night and disrupted Rebecca’s sleep. Now Renfield hardly sleeps at all, as he did before he was freed from Dracula’s wrath. Rebecca thinks his nightmares have stopped.
Renfield Is a parasite, and Rebecca Is hosting It In her brain, allowing It to burrow It’s way Into her and make Its home In the confines of her skull. He Is nothing but a disease that needs to be destroyed, and It’s only a matter of time before Rebecca discovers what he Is and removes him.
She was already noticing Renfield had started reverting back to his old ways, which surprised him. No one had ever cared for him before, so why did she?
It makes him worry. What If he finally loses himself for good and returns to Dracula? What will she think of him then?
His anxieties were worsening, which led to his nail biting rituals returning. If his nails were short, he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone If Dracula’s urge to kill entered his mind. His nail beds were sore and the skin around his fingertips were red raw, but Renfield was proud of himself. He withstood the pain to keep others safe.
In his mind, he hoped that Rebecca would be pleased that he was hurting himself Instead of others, though the rational part of him battled these thoughts. He knows he can’t hurt anyone again, but some part of him fears that one day he’ll snap, and Rebecca will finally know that he was the monster all along.
Another coping mechanism he picked up once more was to tug his sleeves up and scrub the bath for hours until Rebecca finally drags him away from It at the end of the day. He developed this habit after the asylum, when he couldn’t find any other way to control his life other than to clean Dracula’s houses until he passed out.
He would clean every nook and cranny In the lavish mansions that Dracula had bought for them In the early years of their relationship, and the habit only worsened when they moved Into smaller and smaller areas. He would scrub the floor twice In one day, using up every precious cleaning spray and cloth he would buy for himself.
The asylum was dirty, he can’t be dirty again.
Now he washes himself almost daily, contrasting his years with Dracula, when the only times he would wash was when the blood of his victims stuck to his skin. He hated being dirty, but he could never find the time for himself, only the mansions and his Master. Dracula found out about his poor hygiene eventually, but all he did was laugh and shame his pathetic servant. How could Dracula’s pet be depressed? It was a facetious mystery that he never delved Into, lest he let his servant become weaker.
Renfield tried desperately to seek help from his Master, but after his months spent In the asylum he finally shut down and kept every thought to himself. Master listened often, though he never did anything but laugh at his pathetic self-hatred.
Now Renfield still can’t admit his problems to others, they’ll think exactly what Dracula thought all those years ago. The cruel laughter still haunts him, and he can only Imagine Rebecca’s and the support group’s when he admits the truth to them all.
Some part of him wants Dracula to laugh at him again, to hear that belittling cackle that Renfield was frequently the subject of, finding joy In the way that he caused his Master to laugh - even If It was at his own expense. Though the other part of him would jump off of the nearest building If he made another mistake, a far less cruel fate than Master’s howls.
His Master always found his fear of loneliness to be entertaining, and now Renfield’s phobia Is at Its peak once more.
Renfield can’t be alone. He’s been constantly accompanied by Dracula for 90 years, both In his mind and In physical form. His mind feels empty without his Master’s voice to order him around. He needs to be commanded and tugged around on an Invisible leash, but at the same time he's terrified of what would happen If Master returns.
Master abandoned him In the asylum, but Renfield abandoned him too. They’re on even ground now. Equal.
Perhaps Master was a victim like him. He wants to believe that Dracula needed him just as much as he did, but he knows the vampire Intended to leave him to die at Dr. Seward’s hand. Maybe he even planned to kill Renfield himself.
Rebecca’s apartment Is like a ghost-town as he sits on the sofa. Everything Is quiet, except for his mind.
He can’t help but think these thoughts. Negativity overflows his mind and so does Dracula. He can’t stop himself from Imagining his voice and trying to replicate It In his mind, but no matter how much he tries, It never works. His brain Is letting Dracula slip away from It, but Renfield still clings onto the memories, taking every second he’s alone to think of Dracula.
Rebecca knows this, and tries to be around Renfield as much as possible to try and distract him, but In the end she always leaves.
They spend a few hours together, then Renfield Is left alone for all of the others. She’s always busy. Renfield thinks It’s an excuse to avoid him. He quickly slaps himself every time he thinks It. Obviously she’s busy, she has a job! She can’t spend every second with him, but Renfield needs her to.
He doesn’t tell her this, of course, he doesn’t want to make her guilty. But there’s still a tiny voice In the back of his mind that wants to drag her away and mutilate her until she can't leave. He tries to shake the voice away, he doesn’t want to think of Rebecca like that, he couldn’t hurt her If he tried. But he wants to, he needs her. Why can’t she see that?
Renfield thinks It’s obvious, from the way he responds to her texts within seconds and runs to open the door before she’s even knocked and always cooks for her and waits for her to finish her food before he even takes a bite. She knows Dracula ruined him, but she doesn’t know to what extent. He knows he shouldn’t blame her for him not saying anything, every time she tries to ask what happened he’ll switch the topic to something different. She’s stopped asking now. Renfield desperately wants her to ask again, but he still wouldn’t say anything.
How can he tell her? How can he explain 90 years of abuse to someone who doesn’t care enough? He switches the topic so she doesn’t have to, If she knew anything she’d leave him for good.
What would she think when she tells him about the wond- disgusting things Dracula did to him? What would she think when he says he enjoyed - enjoyed? He still enjoys It - every bit of pain he endured? What would she think of his clinginess and jealousy? What would she think when he tells her about his stay at Dr. Sewards?
He shakes his head. She would lock him away. He doesn’t deserve to be free. She’ll realise that when Renfield finally shows her his true self.
When she finds Renfield In his room, covered In freshly cut scars and wrapped In Dracula’s cape, soiling It with blood and cum, she’ll put him out of his misery.
Locking him away wouldn’t be enough. He’s too broken to live In this world, an abused mutt who can never be fixed. It’d be better for everyone If he was dead. It’d be better for him. He would be with Dracula again, In the scorching pits of Hell.
It’d be better for Rebecca, she wouldn’t have to keep pretending to care about him, she’d finally be free from having to comfort him In his pathetic panic attacks, she wouldn’t be trapped with him anymore.
The abusive behaviour of his Master Is repeating, passed down onto him despite his attempts at getting better. No matter how many times he tries to let Mark help him, there’s no fixing what’s broken. He can’t control his unwanted urges for much longer, he wants to break Rebecca apart and punish her for not helping him enough. He wants to see her suffer as much as he does now. He wants to manipulate her mind and twist her flesh around her bones until she’s a useless pile on the ground for Renfield to cry to. Then she would never leave him.
He understands why Dracula hurt him now, he was too easy to break and too weak to defend himself In any way. He was the perfect victim, young and Innocent. Now he’s just as fucked up as his Master.
Maybe Dracula would be proud, maybe Dracula watches him from the flames below and feels joy at what he taught his servant, seeing Renfield hurt himself as he had hurt the poor thing would thrill him. Renfield only wants to make his Master happy.
He waits In the apartment alone for hours until Rebecca comes home, sitting on the sofa In complete silence and darkness until he hears the sound of the keys turning In the door, eagerly sliding off of the sofa and regaining his position on the floor – dogs don’t deserve to sit on the sofa , Master always told him.
The light flickers on and he resists his body’s desperate attempts at squeezing his eyes shut, pushing through the pain to look up at Rebecca with squinted eyes and a small smile.
She looks confused when she sees him on the floor, holding her jacket In her hand and frowning down at him. “How long have you been sat In the dark for..?”
Renfield shrugs. “Since you turned off the lights this morning.”
Rebecca sighs and hangs up her jacket, taking off her utility belt and nudging the door shut with her foot behind her.
“Robert, I don’t think being In the dark Is a good Idea at the moment.”
Oh he knows. But he smiles and plays pretend. “I wasn’t thinking about him.”
He was, he still Is, In fact. But Rebecca Is none the wiser, she can’t Infiltrate his mind the way Master does, blessing him with reminders of their wonderful times together, making Renfield wonder whether he has time to sneak away tomorrow and find his Master’s pieces.
“Rob, you here?”
Renfield quickly blinks at her hand waving In his face, nodding and looking up at her, she then stiffens her hand and holds It out to him, Renfield takes It and allows her to tug him up, which was hardly a challenge considering his small frame.
“I know you’re thinking about him. You don’t have to lie to me, I’m not going to get mad. We said we’d talk about everything, remember?”
Remember. Funny. The days had begun blurring Into one another, he could hardly remember what he had for breakfast this morning, he didn’t even know what hour It was. How could he remember a promise that would only fall apart along with their friendship?
“How was your day at work?” Renfield tries to change the subject as he always does. She stays silent, staring at him with her arms folded, today he won't be able to escape the conversation. Rebecca’s patience has run dry. He tries to plead with her with a pathetic gaze, but her face remains stone-cold.
He wishes she would hit him. A slap or two would do him good, teach him his lesson. She puts her hand on his shoulder and Renfield bends his knees, ducking down to her level, and then lower.
“You’re going to have ups and downs. You’re going to feel awful some days and think that you aren’t making any progress, but you are. Healing Isn’t easy, but you can’t give up now. No matter how much you want to go back to him, he won’t change and you can’t help him. So help yourself and tell me what's wrong.”
He can’t.
He wants to scream In her face about how much he can’t, but no sound escapes his mouth when he parts his lips. His throat Is dry and his eyes are damp, threatening to spill the tears that balance delicately on the ends of his eyelashes.
Rebecca’s eyes burn Into him, and he quickly looks away, trying not to sob as he holds his bottom lip between his teeth. Why Is he so weak?
Boys don’t cry. Boys don’t express their emotions. Boys don’t get hurt.
He failed all of those things. He failed his father.
Renfield weakly shakes his head, clinging onto the bottom of his jumper as he chews on his lip, trying to find a distraction from Rebecca’s stare.
Her hand slowly slips off of his shoulder, before she lets It drop back down at her side, she then turns around and nods, giving him a helpless stare before she walks over to her room.
Every part of him wants to run after her and beg for her to fix him, but he remains still. His feet are firmly planted on the floor, and he holds back his tears with all of the strength he has, folding his arms over his chest as he stares at the wall.
Though he knows she’s only In the next room, he feels abandoned. She left him here.
Why Is he such a hypocrite? He didn’t want to talk. It’s his fault. She should leave him for good.
Maybe she’ll knock him out and drag him to her car, then she’ll leave him on the side of a road where no one will ever find him. That sounds nice. Dying by the road, only the sounds of cars passing by to comfort him In his dying breaths. He’s a stray dog with no Master, so he should be treated like one.
Once again he falls back Into the corners of his mind, soothed by the overwhelming thoughts that crash through him like waves. He Is sent deeper and deeper Into the ocean of his own making, and drowns with each new Idea that pops Into his head.
Thoughts of the punishments he deserves. Thoughts about the punishments he has received. Thoughts of his Master. Thoughts of death. He sinks deeper Into himself, memorising every tiny detail of his deaths at his Master’s hand.
When he surfaces from his mind again, he Is sat on the sofa. He looks next to him, and sees Rebecca on the other end of It, gazing off Into the distance.
He notices his surroundings piece by piece, seeing a cup of microwave noodles In her hands, then spots the window behind her, then turns to look at the TV. It burns his eyes briefly as he weakly blinks at It, slowly adjusting to the glow and squinting to see what It’s playing.
“You were only out of It for an hour.” She Interrupts his focusing, and his vision blurs again when he looks at her. He nods and blinks a few times, making out a concerned expression on her face, though she continues to stare at the TV.
“Did I fall?”
“No. You were standing and staring at the wall, so I helped you sit down.”
He feels Ill, overwhelmed with guilt and sick from the lack of food In his system. When was the last time he ate?
Carefully, he rises to his feet, struggling to balance for a moment as a dizzy feeling fogs his brain. Rebecca says something, but his brain blocks It out as he forces himself to begin walking.
Thankfully he doesn’t collapse on his way to the kitchen, and he gives himself a moment to collect himself before he grabs a box of spaghetti noodles and a pan. He prepares the stove and fills the pot with water, enjoying the sound of It as It swirls around and becomes heavy In his hand.
He turns around and places the pot onto the stove, then grabs a jar of tomato sauce and places It onto the counter. He desperately wishes he could go to the shop and buy more food for Rebecca, but this will have to do for now.
She joins him In the kitchen a few moments later, helping him to cook the pasta and dish It up onto two plates. The room Is quiet as they work, and It’s only when the food Is done that Rebecca finally talks again.
“You need to start going outside again.”
He follows her to the small table and sits opposite to her, placing his plate onto the table and avoiding looking at her as he blows on his food.
“I can’t.” The tears threaten to spill from his eyes again, but he blinks them away and looks up at Rebecca with a small smile.
Why does he always smile In moments like these? Why does he smile knowing that he’ll never do It genuinely again?
“Please, tell me why.” She gazes at him, resting her arms on the table on either side of her plate.
She’s giving him a choice. Talk or eat. He swallows the bile In his throat and picks up his fork, twirling a few strands of the pasta around It and blowing on It as he lifts It up to his mouth. Rebecca sighs and picks up her own cutlery.
He focuses on the taste of the tomato sauce, the texture of the noodle, and the temperature of the food, trying not to let himself fall back Into the crashing waves below. He rests at the surface of his mind for now, enjoying his food as much as he can.
Some part of him wants to vomit, but he manages to control his body and force the stomach acid down with his food, feeling them slip down his throat and travel through his body.
They eat In silence, only the sounds of them chewing and their forks scraping against their plates. Renfield shudders at each noise, trying not to freak out too much at the grating sounds.
Finally, they both finish their food and settle their forks on their plates. He looks up and sees that Rebecca has also only eaten half of hers, likely because of the noodles she had only a half hour ago.
She places her elbows onto the table and rests her chin on top of her knuckles, gazing at him. Renfield feels bile rise In his throat again when her arms rest on the wood, fear settling deep In his gut and eating through him. He braces himself for his father to yell, forgetting that he Isn’t here.
Disrespectful , father would say. Renfield feels slightly reassured when he Imagines his Master agreeing. Master’s opinion Is always correct.
“Tell me why you can’t go outside.”
It wasn’t a choice. Fuck.
He feels chained to the table, his arms held firmly at his side and attached to the wood by an Invisible link. He wants to run, but where? There’s nowhere to go. No one to protect him.
Perhaps this Is his Interrogation. Maybe Rebecca has finally seen through his disguise. He Isn’t an Innocent man, he’s a serial killer. Dracula may be dead, but there will always be a new monster to replace the old one.
He looks to his side, wondering If he’ll see a blacked out window.
He’s still In Rebecca’s apartment, though he Isn’t sure If that’s a good or a bad thing.
“Why can’t I go outside?” She nods. “Do you really want to hear every reason?” Another nod.
Renfield brings his hands up to his face, almost Imagining the clink of metal handcuffs as they rest around his wrists. He rubs his eyes a few times, hoping that when he opens them he’ll be In an orange suit and behind bars.
Rebecca meets his gaze when he looks up at her again. He sighs and rests his hands on his lap again.
“I’m scared that If I go out there, you’ll arrest me….. I’m scared that Dracula will enter my mind again and bring me back to him. I’m scared that I’ll go to him willingly. I’m scared that I’ll walk Into oncoming traffic. I’m scared that I’ll start walking and never stop….” He pauses, Inhaling shakily. “I’m scared that I’ll kill someone.”
He squeezes his eyes shut again, hunching over slightly and trying to hide his face from Rebecca. Maybe If she doesn’t look at him then she’ll be able to shoot him easier.
The room Is silent as Renfield cries softly, tears trickling down his cheeks as he chews on his bottom lip.
“Rob, I know you won’t do those things.”
He takes a shuddering breath, bringing his hands up to hug his chest as he struggles to contain his sobs.
“You know why?”
He hears footsteps, but no sound of a gun being drawn. They’re slow, careful, approaching him cautiously. His eyes flicker open and he blinks away the tears to look up at her.
She stops moving when his eyes fix on her, standing a foot away from him.
Some part of him wants to bite her. He flinches away, tucking himself Into the chair and hugging his arms as close as he can to himself. He feels like a wild dog, trembling as a hand reaches for him.
Rebecca slowly crouches down, looking up at him with a soft smile.
“Why..?” He whispers, struggling to breathe.
“Because I’ll be there with you every step of the way. You don’t have to be afraid, you won’t hurt anyone or yourself. Nothing bad will happen.”
“W-what If I.. h-hurt you?” Renfield chokes out, tears flooding down his face and dampening his cheeks.
Her smile falters for a moment, and her face becomes serious. “You won’t.”
“I can’t trust m-myself.” He hiccups, sniffling and rubbing his face with his sleeve before he grips onto his forearm again and squeezes himself tightly. He wishes he could snap his ribs and pierce them Into his own heart.
“I trust you. Do you trust me?”
When she tries to offer her hand to him again he flinches away once more, pushing his feet against the floor and sliding the chair away from her. “I’m s-sorry..”
She rests her hand on her thigh for a moment, looking at him with a frown. Is she disappointed? She should be.
Why can’t he be normal? Why can’t he forget everything? Why can’t he leave Dracula In the past?
Dracula Isn’t the past. Dracula Is his present. Dracula will be his future, too. He can’t run from the only thing that gave his life meaning.
“You should go to bed.” She rises to her feet, grabbing his plate, then her own.
He looks up at her weakly and she smiles before walking Into the kitchen. Renfield catches his breath for a few minutes, rocking back and forth In his chair and digging his fingers Into his scalp. He fights to stop the panic rising In his chest, closing his eyes once more and holding his head In his hands.
Renfield finally gets up from the chair and tucks It under the table, tiredly dragging his feet along the floor and back Into the living room. He collapses onto the sofa, burying his face Into the pillow and sighing Into the fabric.
When was the last time he changed his clothes? Rebecca probably finds him disgusting by now.
Dracula found him disgusting when he wouldn’t change out of his suit, but that was the only outfit he ever had. After Dracula’s most recent attack he had forced Renfield to throw away the only pair of pyjamas he ever let him buy, leaving him with nothing else to wear once more.
Now he has the option to change out of this jumper, but some part of him can’t bear the thought of having It off of his skin for even a moment. This was the jumper he killed Dracula In.
He had gotten It washed and repaired after he got back to his apartment, then after that he couldn’t take It off.
He rolls onto his side and opens his eyes slightly, seeing Rebecca standing In the doorway. She smiles at him, her arms folded over her chest.
“I’m going to work tomorrow, but after that I’ll have a day off and we’ll talk, okay?”
Renfield nods slightly, letting his eyes fall closed again when Rebecca turns around and begins walking away.
He listens to the wind howling outside, Imagining as If there are wolves outside the window. The thought lulls him Into half-consciousness, and he relaxes his muscles and sinks deeper Into the pillows.
After a few hours of struggling to get comfortable and lay still, he finally manages to fall asleep.