Chapter Text
Prologue
'Cause my mouth says no, but my neck says please. I think I wanted you dead. Fell as an angel just to please.
September, 1986
It was dark, suffocatingly so. The darkness engulfed him fully. The absence of light, of movement, of sensation was disorienting and disgusting. He moved around desperately, craving a breeze, a small change in temperature, a sound other than his frantic heartbeat reverberating in his chest and pounding in his ears. He tried to scream, but the sound came out wrong, strangled and inaudible as glass shards cut his vocal cords and tongue to shreds. His body felt useless, unmoving despite his efforts. Every thought, every muscle and nerve on end begging for some contraction, an involuntary twitch, a small movement. Something had to give. The weight on his chest was worse now, his eyes wide and frantic, but the darkness continued to deprive him of everything his body ached for. The weight settled onto him like a man buried alive. His chest was first. His ribs creaked under the weight, painfully digging into muscle and organs underneath. Squeezed until his breathing became laboured and painful. His neck was next. Darkness wrapped around his throat and pressed into the flesh until the air from his lungs was gone, and oxygen was denied entry. He gasped, silent. His arms were dead weight at his sides, until slowly, oh so slowly, the bones began getting crushed under the same pressure. He was sure that at any moment he would hear the bone give, the dry and harsh snap in the unnatural silence. His ears were ringing as they strained to pick up on any sound, for proof of life of what was now on top of him and killing him slowly. He could picture it in his mind's eye, a black figure with nothing but teeth. Sharp and predator-like. His hips were pushed deeper into the mattress, the squeaking of the old metal springs barely registerable under his frantic heartbeat. Pain shot up his spine, blinding and hot as he attempted desperately to shake off what was holding him down. His legs were left for last, and any shred of hope and escape dissipated the second that he felt his thighs being pulled. His skin felt like it was being torn apart; he was being ripped in two and would die here. The pain crawled slowly this time, relishing in the torture that was being forced onto the victim. He could picture it, black arms and legs, fluid like a cat, slowly crushing him. A smile that was all teeth and drool as it watched him wither in pain, yet completely unable to move. The only thing giving him away being his heartbeat and facial expressions. His body was on fire, the blood in his veins running both hot and cold as pain continued to explode behind his eyelids. At one point, he was sure he was dead. Or at least close to it. He had been denied oxygen long enough to feel lightheaded, his heart erratic against its cage of bone as his body strained against invisible restraints.
"Mine."
The pressure on his neck was gone then. Air was pulled greedily into his lungs, every cell in his body grateful for the release. His body was sore, unmoving. The pain settled over him and seeped into his bone, into the marrow. It took everything out of him not to scream, copper flooding his mouth in a desperate attempt to distract one pain with another. His body was drenched in sweat, his skin cold as the midnight breeze blew in from the window and dried the moisture on his bare flesh. He shuddered.
He didn't register the voice until he could move, but by then the sun was already rising.