Chapter Text
"I don't need you."
The words rang heavy in Caleb's head, as if echoing onwards into his present, even though weeks had passed at this point.
What had she meant by that?
She had returned to Linkon and their relationship had returned to an apprehensive dance. A push and pull that never swayed the distance in between them.
No, how could she say that to him, of all people? Was he a presence so easily replaced in her life? Had his existence somehow faded from her heart, the familial bond they had forged so meticulously, now so readily worn down by time and absence? Had he changed somehow, the image he had so carefully crafted to reflect her desires and wants? A mirror without a subject could not hold anything of substance.
Or maybe she had changed. Maybe she was no longer his Meimei in the sterile white cage of the laboratory, so isolated and pure. Maybe none of it held any weight because she no longer remembered. He was filled and nourished by the memories of what had been, even in spite of it all.
Her world had expanded past his and she had filled it with so much more.
Because you have others now, Caleb thought sullenly. It was a sobering idea, the kind that made his throat feel as if it were closing in on itself. He bit down on his thumb, through the nail and at the skin, tearing at it as his head started to buzz uncomfortably. His mouth was filled with the sour warmth of iron, the taste of blood spreading on his tongue. Because you aren't all mine, anymore, he thought. Even though I'm still all yours. The gap he had left in her life had been filled, and she was no longer alone and scared as she had been.
As horrible as their past had been, at least he was the only one there for her.
It's a good thing, Caleb thought, attempting to temper his own despair. She had always longed for a family, for the warmth of others. Should he not be happy for her safety and wellbeing?
And though he tried desperately to convince himself of this perspective, he could not help but feel that it was a terrible injustice unto him. He was filled with a wretched and ugly selfishness that longed to have her for himself. Maybe he did not deserve to be by her side and maybe she had seen that within him.
Maybe he had too, and this was why he had removed himself in the first place.
He bit down again, the nail cracking once more, too close to the bed, and yet still it paled in comparison to the pain Caleb felt in his heart and in his skull. Something else was ringing now, like the desperate peal of a bell, much too loud; it threatened to drown out everything else.
"No one could ever replace you."
Haven't I already been replaced? Caleb thought, rather bitterly, his head feeling like it was being opened up. He could taste the blood and it did nothing to overwrite what was happening.
He could feel his thoughts coursing towards a dangerous conclusion, one he did not want to reach.
Caleb shut his eyes, waiting for the spots of light he saw dancing in his vision to fade away. Slowly, he opened them once again, letting his hand drop from his mouth and into his lap. The blood welled up in thick beads, the nail and cuticles ragged and hideous. He stared at his other hand, the starkly neat appearance in terrible contrast to the other. Anger surged within him momentarily before dissipating once again at the beckon of a sharp stab from the base of his skull.
It was replaced with a terrible calmness and emptiness.
Shivers laced onto every inch of skin and bone and crafted nerve, like foreign electricity.
Why not? He wondered suddenly. Why didn't I just do that in the first place? He felt like something had been holding him back, but as much as he tried, he could not bring it to mind. I can keep thinking about it, Caleb thought to himself, getting up from the edge of his bed. The sheets and spread remained neatly folded and tucked, in militaristic fashion; he had not slept there for a while. Instead, he had laid on the couch, watching the sky pass him by each and every night, remembering their last argument.
He reached out his right hand, the skin on the palm torn bloodlessly, before clenching it back into a fist.
If the guise of safety had been the veil that had deluded her, then he would tear it asunder with his own hands.
Caleb sat quietly, waiting for time to pass. He stirred his coffee in a vain attempt to distract himself, the ice already melded into the drink. He was in a cafe on the other side of Linkon, dressed in plainclothes, his appearance adequately obscured to avoid being recognized. He had gone out of his way to purchase new clothes, new cologne, new everything, all in an attempt to make himself as unfamiliar as possible.
He had checked only a few minutes ago, but he flicked the screen on his watch back on, watching the steady, stationary blip of the tracker.
He knew where she was. Who she was with. Idling away the time at a cafe with Zayne. The anger he felt was cold and empty. He had seen the messages as well; cute stickers and apologies for not being able to take Zayne's call while she was in Skyhaven. The way she had extended an invitation to the other man to make up for lost time. You're so close to him now, Caleb thought, his emotions a nauseating mixture of envy and bloodlust. You're too close to him.
He entertained the thought of killing Zayne, of getting rid of him completely, but the idea felt like losing. Caleb didn't want her to mourn Zayne, to miss him, to think about him at all. He hated the thought of someone else changing her so permanently and not by his own hand.
She should choose him.
At the very least, it wasn't the right time to murder the doctor. Caleb just needed to play his cards correctly, while he had control of the deck.
Time passed as if in a dream, nonlinear and capricious. He would blink and new people would be sitting at the tables across from him, drinks already half drank. He would stare out into nothing with unseeing eyes, hours passing in the span of seconds. Every so often, the ache in his brain would return, and as if it were a reminder, he would open up the tracker again.
The blip started to move.
He closed the screen again and began to count, the action a welcome distraction to his own thoughts; mindless, simple, emotionless repetition. Caleb stopped his internal count at nine hundred and forty eight, flicking the screen back on.
And as expected, she had just made it back home.
He got up, chair scraping lightly against the ground with his movement, heading over to her apartment.
Caleb unlocked the door easily with his powers, the delicate mechanisms giving way to him. His eyes scanned quickly over the shoes laid out neatly at the entrance and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief; she hadn't come back with anyone else. His footsteps were weightless and soundless as he walked through the living room, his mastery over gravity granting him an obscene advantage. He heard the gentle patter of water against the shower tile come to a halt alongside the telltale signs of her stepping out.
He calmly picked his vantage point and waited for her to finish.
Something inside him was aching as he waited, but he ignored it. He had always been in pain, hadn't he? This was nothing new.
Stop it, Caleb thought suddenly. A sudden impulse jolted through his body, laced with guilt like poison; to run out the door and never look back again.
And just as quickly as it had come, it vanished into nothing.
That's weird, he thought, that uneasiness sense of missing something pooling in his gut.
The bathroom door opened and he no longer had the luxury of time. She walked right past him, wrapped in a loose towel, hair dripping beads of water onto her shoulders like dew. Out of her vision, he sprang from behind the opened door and grabbed her from behind, hand gripping around her mouth. She let out a muffled yelp of surprise, before starting to struggle with all of her might, her training as a hunter clearly kicking in. She tried to break out of the hold, body twisting to try to apply any leverage that she could. The towel slipped from her body unceremoniously, now entirely exposed.
So defenseless, Caleb thought, sinking the needle into her neck, thumb plunging down and releasing the drug into her bloodstream. He regarded her with almost a pitiful gaze as he watched her form start to slump, the muscles slackening and the mind dipping away into the chemical dream. He wouldn't give her a chance for any of that. This wasn't one of their play fights that they had when they were children, the ones that he would occasionally let her win at. Just enough for her to want to keep trying, but never enough that she forgot how strong he was.
She would never find out it was him.
She would never win against him.
She would never be able to escape from him.
Caleb knelt down, picking the towel back up and fastening it tightly around her, before picking her up entirely and carrying her out of the apartment.
Caleb watched her consciousness stir slowly, as if drifting on the edge of a wave between dream and wakefulness. The way her slow and deep breathing turned into twitches and muffled sounds of confusion as she tried to move her limbs into groans of pain and then panicked yells.
He held his hand to his neck, switching the voice modulator on, before speaking.
"Are we awake now?" Caleb asked, his voice gravelly, cold and deep. He saw her freeze at the sound of the foreign voice, watching the way every hair on her bare body stood on end.
Her lips pulled back and she bared her teeth in a hateful snarl. "What is this? Let me go!" She punctuated her words with a thrash, the cuffs and chains clinking against the bench she was tied down to. Her head jerked around from side to side uselessly, the blindfold affixed firmly to her face. Face down, on all fours, ass up, holes exposed.
Like a breeding bitch.
"Oh, you know what's going on," Caleb drawled, trying to force the slimiest, most disgusting persona that he could think of. He paced around her, watching the muscles in her tiny body strain. Already, her wrists were beginning to darken, the threat of a bruise looming.
He was going to make this horrific for her.
If anything, it was for her own good; she had no possible idea of the dangers that lay around every corner. Of the dangers that he had been protecting her from, all along.
She may have forgotten, but he never would.
He groped her ass roughly, watching the fingertips depress into the soft mound of flesh, yet feeling nothing, and he felt the disconnect in his mind and actions grow.
"You sick bastard," she hissed. "Just wait, just fucking wait."
Wait for what, Caleb wondered sadly. What could you even do? She was so precious, so important, so powerful.
But what could she do on her own?
Nothing to enhance, nothing to amplify.
No one on her side.
I should stop, he thought, feeling sick at the sight of her cursing and bound down. Something's not right.
Stop and then what? And the thought made chills run down his spine. Watch her run to someone else for comfort, after it's all said and done?
He reached out, fingers dragging up her thigh and ghosting against her slit, drawing out an indignant shriek. "Get your hands off me, you sicko!" He switched hands and pressed a little harder, the initial resistance soon giving way to a tight heat that curled around him frantically. He could feel his cock starting to twitch in his pants, almost in timing with the clench of her hole.
"That's what I thought," Caleb said mockingly, feeling anger start to build inside him again. No hymen. Who? He wondered, feeling like he was going blind from rage. Who?! The rational part of him, the hopeful part of him, the part of him that said it didn't mean anything, was losing. "Whore like you knows exactly what's going to happen," he spat out, the vitriol foreign even to him.
It's just an act, he thought, she won't figure out who it is this way. Her Gege would never speak to her like this, never in this tone of voice. And he would never do such terrible things to her. Gege always put her above everyone else, above even himself.
Caleb pulled at the modulator strapped to his neck in agitation, feeling like his throat was closing off again, a sour pain piercing it. I'm hurting her, he thought, feeling a wretched sorrow douse his heart.
Just calm down, he thought. Haven't you always wanted to do this anyways? He curled his finger inside her, feeling how tight she was. He wanted to rub his thumb against her clit, unhooding it and exposing every single one of those sensitive nerves. He'd rub and torture it until her cunt started to drool for his cock. He could feel himself trembling inside her, blood rushing down as he pictured what could be.
But I don't have to do that, he thought, pulling his finger out, feeling that same disconnect once again. No, I don't want to do that. Caleb started to undo the buckle of his belt, dragging it through the loop in a swift motion and lashing at her back with it. She let out a pained cry, the sound making him sick and even harder at the same time. He kicked his boxers off hurriedly, his breathing growing more and more hungered as he grasped his hand around the base of his cock, aiming the tip of it against her hole.
He exhaled, halfway between breath and moan at the sight. She was so small, so tiny compared to him. Even her used up, slutty hole looked like it would tear as soon as he put the head in.
He heard her breathing hitch, the tone of her voice changing, fear starting to bleed into it. "No, no no no," she said, the threat turning into a plea as she continued. "You can't, you can't, just stop, just stop this." She couldn't see what was going on, but she could feel it.
He was going to break her.
"What's the matter?" Caleb taunted, an unhinged edge starting to enter his voice. "Not your first rodeo, right?" He bit down on his tongue, holding back from saying his pet name for her, one that would give everything away. "Looks like you've only been with pencil dicks though," he chuckled, feeling like acid was burning the bottom of his throat. He thumped his cock against her slit, watching her hips twitch and jolt in terror as she felt the heft of it slapping against her. She was so tight and so woefully unprepared.
"Fu-"
Her words were interrupted by a scream as he attempted to force himself in, her hole fighting and spasming desperately against him. She was practically bone dry for all the good it did her, no doubt feeling every drag and sting on her sensitive nerves.
This wasn't about pleasure, not for either of them. He wanted to fuck his Meimei, all cute and perfect and loving. He'd shower her with affection and gifts and he'd hold her in his arms and never let anything bad like this happen to her. He'd rub her pretty little pussy until it was glossy and glistening, and then he'd kiss it until she squeezed her thighs around his head, mewling underneath him. Caleb would take his time with her and make sure she was prepared to take him, to take all of him.
But he wasn't going to do that for some disgusting whore who spread her legs for anyone.
Caleb didn't give her a break, drawing back slightly, just to press forwards again, her body starting thrashing and hips attempting to buck away from him. He grabbed onto her with both hands, dragging her even further back. He could feel that he was starting to breach her. He could see the way the rim of her hole was starting to stretch around him, thin and red, on the cusp of tearing. She let out a piteous wail and he could feel something tighten around his heart, the nausea inside building to a peak.
He gasped and his hand flew to his mouth, feeling like he was going to double over from how sick he felt. I can't, he thought, his head searing with an awful pain, as if it was being split down the middle. I can't, I can't! What am I doing I shouldn't be doing this I-
"Help," she sobbed, her voice raw, "help, Za-"
Caleb felt the last of his restraint snap.
He grabbed the back of her head and slammed it against the bench, letting the name die in her throat as he forced out another cry of pain, a cry of his making. He ground her face into the bench amidst tortured screams as he proceeded to push his cock in as far as it would go, his tip kissing her womb. The sensation made his brain feel like it was turning off and on again.
"Who are you calling for?" He asked venomously, punching forwards with a violent thrust. She screamed and her legs kicked against the restraints, the room filled with her cries and the clatter of chains against wood. "Who the fuck are you calling for?" Caleb pounded into her, trying to hilt his cock, attempting to break past the resistance that was her womb. Her screams grew louder and louder as her hole grew wetter; a combination of slick beaten out of her and blood torn from her. "Stupid bitch," he spat, "idiotic girl."
He couldn't even see her anymore, his vision so obscured by rage. His mind was a blur of impulse and wrath.
And Caleb felt that he could no longer see the line that divided disguise from self, the boundary now so blurred between them.
Maybe this was who he was; a vengeful and selfish animal laid bare beneath the weight of his own conceit. Restraint was only deception in his hands, so perhaps this had always been who he was. The Caleb that he had crafted would never do this to her.
Was the Caleb that would hurt himself before ever hurting her ever real at all?
He could feel himself burning away in flashes of incoherent white in his vision, flickers of specters dying away.
He laced his fingers through her hair with newfound purpose; his mind in sudden, blinding clarity. The answer had been so clear all along, he could only marvel at how he could have managed to miss it. You don't get to trust anyone other than me, Caleb thought, veins popping as he wrenched her head upwards amidst more protests. No one else gets to help you.
"Go on and say it," he leered. "Call for him. What, is that your fucking boyfriend or something?" She only sobbed in response, and he could imagine the tears dripping down her cheeks. I should flip her around next time, Caleb thought feverishly, I always liked when she cried.
Because she would cling to him and he knew that he was there to protect her and lift her back up again. All of those times that he had wiped her tears away. All of those times he had cracked a corny joke, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile even as she rolled her eyes at him. All of those times he had snuck a little treat into her mouth, her face lighting up whenever she got to eat delicious food. Each moment between them was a reminder of what they had to live for and look forward to, together.
Because she looked so pretty when she cried. Because her tears, just like everything about her, belonged to him and him alone.
"Say it," he said, his body leaning down over hers, as he continued to hump into her, each thrust a fresh bruise on her cervix. "Beg for help. No one's coming for you. No one is ever coming for you," he rambled, his speech warped even further by the mounting pleasure. Her cunt was practically milking around him, every twitch of her body making him throb even harder inside her. Her sobs were starting to sound sweet to him, just like everything else about her. "He's not here," Caleb taunted her, all of the frustration he had felt now starting to bleed out in wicked cruelty. "He's not here, but I am," he whispered into her ear, watching her flinch as each word struck her brain. "And I'm gonna use your cunt like a cum rag. He won't be able to touch the fucking sides once I'm through with you."
He groaned and clenched his jaw, starting to really work at her now, his thrusts turning into fast and shallow rabbit pumps, watching her pussy struggling to swallow his cock as it dragged along his shaft. He felt his balls draw up against his cock, the sensation mind shattering as he came inside her. He was dimly aware of the noises he was making, guttural moans and groans, feeling like his brain and spine were pulled out of him with every spurt of cum he poured into her. Caleb took a step back, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he surveyed the aftermath.
A thick white load pooled at the entrance of her hole, dripping down thickly like honey. Her cunt was battered into a blushing, ripe color, tinges of blood swirling down in pink and red like the juice of a berry. Mine, he thought dizzily, all mine.
He leaned over her again, tugging on her ear harshly before whispering to her again. "I'm not the only one."
Caleb watched as she continued to quiver and sob, the realization of what he had said slowly dawning on her, before he turned away to prepare again. Three days will be enough, he thought, calculating it in his head. Enough to get the point across, but not enough to break her completely.
Not enough to kill Meimei.
He strode over to a table by the edge of the basement room, picking up a fresh syringe, drawing up a healthy dose of liquid, a potent hallucinogenic. A second syringe, this one a mild aphrodisiac, not enough to overwhelm, but just enough to confuse and guilt.
Caleb thought he felt a little at peace as he walked back to his little pipsqueak, still shuddering and shaking like a beaten animal. He pinned her head in place, shooting the drugs down a prominent vessel in her neck, the frantic beating of her heart betrayed by its pulse. He smiled serenely, listening to her whines and whimpers.
"Stop" was also beginning to sound so sweet to him and he wondered why he had ever bothered listening in the first place. Gege knows what's best for you, he thought, his hand ghosting a caress along her cheek, but not touching her. He picked up another device, walking behind her and replacing the blindfold with it. It was an elaborate VR headset, but an off-market one, dangerously indistinguishable from reality. He fiddled with the plug, flicking a switch on the side, activating a series of thousands of nanometer caliber needles. Caleb bit the edge of the packaging, tearing open an alcohol wipe with one hand and sanitizing the area before sinking the plug in.
"Wh-, whaa," she slurred out, the confusion evident in her voice. She was no doubt seeing and feeling nothing but darkness at this moment.
Because the headset was off.
He flicked it on, and her noises slowly turned into screams and sobs.
"No, no, please," she sobbed, "please nooo."
Caleb hummed softly, feeling a little sad, even though he probably shouldn't have been. He stroked a finger down her spine, tracing the curve of bone as she shook with terror from the videos playing into her head. It was a very lengthy compilation of gang rape and torture and beatings, men of all shapes and sizes, woman of all shapes and sizes.
"Stop, please stop, I'm so-" Her plea was cut off as she gagged around thin air. Caleb wrapped a hand around her throat gently, feeling the way it was convulsing and straining around nothing; no doubt a monstrous cock violating the passage in her head. This would be how she spent the next three days and nights, hooked into an unending nightmare of violation, until fear was carved into every neuron in her little head. Her body didn't belong to her, it never did. She was an Evol user, but she was powerless without someone else there besides her.
She needed him.
I'll do it too, Caleb thought, his cock twitching back to life again at the thought of her looking up at him with wide eyes, lips pressed in a bashful kiss against his cock. There were so many things he wanted to do to her, he felt like he would drown in the sheer possibilities.
He had her for three days and then everyday after that.
Caleb walked down the stairs, lazily tidying his hair, fingers combing through it, before putting his hat back on. He gave a cursory glance to the screen overlay, before flicking it away. He was right on time, the last dose of drugs starting to wear its way out of her system and the headset removed.
He had to admit, his plans had derailed ever so slightly over the course of the past three days. He had planned to use the headset to do most of the work for him. Being violated by hundreds of people unendingly, Caleb reasoned, would surely impound a fear of strangers into her. On the first night, he had walked down with some food, some simple soup that he had to purposefully go out of his way to make bland and unenjoyable. It would be enough just to keep her alive.
And as he reached the base of the stairs, he found himself wondering, why should I do that?
He loved cooking for "Meimei", but he didn't see any point in cooking for this woman, especially not as "Caleb".
No, she could eat afterwards. He'd cook her favorite soups, perfect, nourishing and gentle enough on her stomach after a few days of starvation. He would wrap her in her arms and a soft blanket and feed her by hand, spoonful by spoonful.
He had stuck an IV in her arm and called it a day. She needed to learn that food was a comfort she was allowed when she was with him only.
Other people, certainly not rapists, wouldn't extend that courtesy to her. They wouldn't wipe down her body, they wouldn't massage the stiff muscles, they wouldn't apply salve to her injuries. All of the care that he had prepared was suddenly so obsolete.
She didn't remember how they had been treated like animals, but now she would.
A soft smile curled his lips as he thought about when he had removed the headset, her head buried against the bench, not even trying to look at him. Her hair was limp and lifeless, the color of her skin looking sickly and dirty despite the occasional hose down with ice cold water. Her wrists and ankles were scored and scarred by the edges of the cuffs, some of them deep enough that he thought he could see the surface of tendon. Not that he minded, of course. If she cut her tendons, it just meant she would depend on him even more. She was a trembling victim now, nothing more.
And victims needed someone to save them.
He paused at the base of the stairs, taking a moment to collect himself, to collect "Caleb".
Even in his own head, he thought the image was blurry, like trying to recall a dream several weeks later. What kind of voice did he speak with? How did he move the muscles to soften the eyes? How did he smile?
How did he love her?
He opened his eyes again, feeling like he had cobbled together the proper form, even as his chest ached with every breath, mourning the loss of something intangible yet crucial.
In a choreographed motion, Caleb slammed into the door, breaking it off of its hinges. The loudness of the sound made her jolt, head shooting up like a prey animal. He ran towards her, eyes hungrily drinking in the way her expression wavered on the edge of disbelief and hope, as if she didn't believe this could be real.
With a flourish of his power, he snapped the bench and cuffs at the chain, wrapping her up in a tight embrace. He called her name out like his soul was being torn away with each exclamation, and perhaps it really was.
"Caleb?" She asked, her voice so small and tiny.
"It's me," he whispered hoarsely, hugging her even tighter. "It's me, I'm here."
And with those words, he could feel the change happening; her breathing suddenly speeding until she was hyperventilating and gasping in his arms. "It's okay now," Caleb whispered again, settling into his role like muscle memory. "I'm here now. You're okay."
"Gege," she sobbed. "Gege!" She wailed out loud, her arms clutching weakly around him as if he would vanish.
And with those words, he could feel every last ounce of doubt in his body being erased. It's going to be okay, he thought, his own eyes watering with tears.
This was surely euphoria.
You need me, Caleb thought. You need me, you need me you need me I know you need me and now you know too. The thoughts coursed rapidly in his head in alignment with his own heartbeat. The revelation pulsed through every vessel and he felt like he was being reborn.
He would never let go of this blade. He would use this knife in her heart forever. If she ever tried to leave, if she ever went to someone else, if she ever thought she didn't need him once again.
His hand would always be at the hilt and he would always open up the wound once more.
Over and over again.
No, Caleb thought, I can do worse than this. If this happened again, then he would cripple her entirely. How could she run from him when she couldn't walk?
Maybe I should have just done that to begin with, he thought absentmindedly. Was there a reason why he hadn't? He tried to think of why he would make that mistake, but couldn't find the right answer. Am I missing something? Caleb wondered.
Her fingers wound more tightly into his uniform and his thoughts melted away. He cradled her gently, rocking her slightly, watching as the tension in the muscles started to soften.
It was okay if he was missing something.
It was okay if he was broken.
It was okay if she was broken.
You need me.