Prompt: 86. Choices
Warnings: Torture, character death
Author's Notes: T-bag/LJ, post-escape drabble. Just so you're not confused in the beginning, the way I pictured it was that all we can see is either LJ's face or his POV until the end when it switches tense. Pretty much it's a perfect example of how I see everything like a movie, not a story.
“Do you know what that sound is, Little Pretty?”
LJ doesn’t respond. Instead he bites his lip so hard he’s bleeding so as not to make a sound.
“Silence. That silence means no one’s comin’ for you. Not your uncle, not your daddy, and certainly not the police. You’re all alone.”
Tears blur his vision and he’s trying so desperately to not pass out, because he’s afraid of what’ll happen to his body if he does. The drugs that pervert gave him aren’t helping either. They make his mind race and his heart pound and his palms sweat. Oh, his palms. He doesn’t want to think about them.
“I’ll give you credit, you are a stubborn bastard. A lot tougher than your pretty uncle was too. He screamed so loud.”
He’s breathing heavy, trying to keep his eyes open, but wanting nothing more than to shut them and get away from all these. But the poison racing through his system keeps him at rapt attention, the murderer’s voice ringing in his ears. He can feel his lip quivering and it takes everything he has not to cry. He won’t give that bastard the satisfaction. But God, it hurts so much.
“Just listen to that quiet. It’s beautiful. Kinda poetic, really.”
He’s standing right behind LJ now, so close he can feel the killer’s breath, smell the blood coming off him. The blood from his family.
“Just give in Little Pretty. Just give your body over to me and I can end all this pain. I can end your suffering.”
But he knows the suffering will only begin when he gives in so he doesn’t say a word. Even though it hurts so bad. Instead he waits it out, hoping to find an escape, hoping for some way out. A slip-up, a mistake. He just needs to find an opening and use it. But it’s hard to think straight.
“You know your daddy’s still alive. It’d be a shame if somethin’ horrible were to happen to him.”
He’s bluffing, his dad is dead. No use crying over it now. And no use enduring torture worse than this for it.
“You don’t believe me, do you? Well, maybe this will convince you.”
The monster moves away and now he can only see him out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t dare move his head, he doesn’t move at all. It hurts too much when he does. He sees the closet door open and out tumbles his dad, alive, but far from kicking.
“I can make this quick for him, or I can make it real, real slow. All you gotta do is give in.”
He wants this to end, all of it. Wishes them both to be dead, wishes that murderer would just stab them and get it over with. He doesn’t want any more pain. He knows what will come after this will be much, much worse, but he doesn’t care about himself any more. He doesn’t want anyone else in his family to suffer.
He barely recognizes his own voice. And now the murderer is smiling as he takes the knife and slides it across Lincoln’s throat. And LJ can’t even look away. He’s stuck.
T-bag was quite pleased with himself. He was going to take the boy either way, but it was so much more fun this way. After all, he did love torture.
He watched Linc the Sink’s last gasps for breath before walking over to the table LJ was sitting at.
“Good choice. Now, we’re gonna have a little fun now, LJ.”
Then he pulled out the two knives that were holding LJ’s hands to the table.
“Yes, we’re gonna have a real good time.”
I don't know why I've been in such a dark T-bag/LJ mood lately. It's especially puzzling considering it's Christmas time and I should be writing happy fluffy fics. Maybe it's just the dark, cold winter nights. And you know, my insanity.