I typed both these chapters while FF.N was updating, so they were ready to go. But I waited for reviews before I posted this update. Take that, hasty readers!
Things get perverted and violent now. Ever go to a scary movie with a pair of sunglasses so that if things get too violent and scary you can hardly see? Well, you can’t do that here, but if you try, it might make it harder for you to read.
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“You know, they’re probably sitting in that ******** coffee shop, bitching about us right now.”
“Lee, please. I know you’re upset, but control your temper. When we find them, it won’t help if you fly off the wall right away.” Rei said calmly, worry half-hidden behind his concern. Gary nodded.
“It wouldn’t help to fly off the wall at all.”
“Well I’m gunna! Goddamnit, why would they go out at night! They just found out there were threats against them, didn’t they? Wouldn’t they take that as a warning?”
Rei sighed. “Lee, you know full well they’re doing it to prove a point. They won’t take it seriously anyway, we’ve been keeping them in the dark for so long.”
“But-”
“Just shut up, Lee.” Gary said rudely, causing the captain to turn, startled. It was rare for Gary to say anything of the sort, and Lee listened.
They walked a few more blocks before they saw it. First is was the tire marks careening off the road on the sidewalk. Then, much to their horror, the blood on the wall and sidewalk where Mariah had hit. Finally, the larger puddle-smear of blood in the middle of the road where Kevin had rolled too so violently. Silence fell between them for a few seconds as it sunk in, versions of the scene playing out in their heads. They knew who the victims were, there was no doubt in their minds about that. Lee flipped out his phone and hesitated. They were in Japan, so what was the emergency number? 9-1-1? No, that was America. He frantically tried to remember. Opposite side of the world, opposite number… 1-1-9! But no, wait, that was fire and ambulance. No wounded victims here, much to this horror and dread. 1-1-0! That’s it! He dialed it in a blur. The world reeled. He slurred in broken Japanese while the operator tried to calm him down and understand him. It was Gary who solemnly took the cell phone, lifted it too his ear, and explained what was going on. His voice was heavy with sorrow and fear, but mostly, shame and guilt.
After a few moments, sirens wailed in the distance. Rei leaned against the wall, hands over his mouth, eyes wide in shock. Lee was breathing fast, teeth clenching and unclenching. He stumbled and fell in beside Rei, sliding to the ground and putting his face in his hands. No, no, no… He repeated to himself. Gary stood there on the sidewalk, perfectly still.
He should never have said anything to Kevin.
-x-x-x-
“My, my, what a pretty face.”
Distant voices. No… no, just one voice. It was above him. It was close, closer, breath on his face, what… what had happened? Where… Oh god, it hurt, everything hurt.
“Mmm… Yes, pretty indeed. Better then on the television or in magazines.” The voice was loud this time. So loud it hurt his head, his aching head, his throbbing head. The breath came back too; it smelt of wine and cigarettes. He tried to cough, but it got caught in his throat. He shuddered. It hurt, his whole back hurt. His lower leg hurt the most, burning and pounding in pain. When the voice came back a third time, he opened his eyes.
“And it’s mine now. All mine…” It was dreamy sounding, like a teenage girl talking about a boy she was ‘madly in love with’. Fingers traced his cheek. Eyes cracked open. Blurry, yes, but there was a figure leaning over him. And red light. Red light everywhere, illuminating surfaces, knobs, hooks, pulleys, levers, cranks, gears, everything around and above Kevin. And the man. The man, smiling so lustily down at him, so perverted, and at the same time, so angrily, like he were jealous. Jealous of what? Kevin was in more pain then he could ever remember being in. Numbed, no doubt, by the lack of consciousness, but he was still in pain. Why would the man be jealous of that?
“Wwha… Nnhggh…” He slurred, fighting for coherent speech. The man shushed him.
“You will only speak when spoken too.” He said simply, before he suddenly vanished, moving too quickly for Kevin to follow. He lay there, on his back. His wrists were tied tight above his head, tied to some rusting pipe that stuck out of the floor and twisted up into a mishmash of other pipes and nozzles and gears. The grated floor beneath him allowed visibility down to the lower levels of wherever he was, with more pipes, thicker pipes, and another grated floor. Levels of grated floors, pipes, levers, all sorts of mechanisms. Sounds of steam being released and gears turning filled the air, and the hum of machines was constant. And always the red light, everywhere the red light.
A filthy cloth was wrapped around his upper right arm, blood soaking through. He could feel his ankle bound tightly, but other then that, sticky blood; on his face, coming down from his forehead; on his arms, fingers, legs, back. Sticky, sticky blood. He was still wearing his clothing, but his shoes and socks were gone and his good ankle was hand-cuffed to another pipe.
Ffffsshshhttt… A pipe near by released a certain amount of steam, spraying it into the warm humid air of the strange, machine-like room. Where was he? What was going on? He faded in and out for a while, eyes half open or closed, and each time he awoke, he would ask himself the same thing;
Where is Mariah?
-x-x-x-
“Stop it, let me go! Where is Kevin, what have you done to him?!” Mariah cried, kicking to get away as the man pulled her down the stark-white hallway by her elbow. Her wrists were tied together and as she struggled, she felt them rub and ache against the restraints. Perhaps the hallway wasn’t stark white. It would have been if the lights were on. Only one light at the very far end of the hall was on, and it provided enough light for her to see where she was being taken.
An old gurney was at the side of the hall. Where the mattress would have been was a solid metal surface, with old, brown leather straps and brass buckles hanging front it. An old broken wheelchair was on its side, with several spokes from the upturned wheel missing. A door way at the far end of the hall was ajar, and as they neared it, Mariah could tell it was the desired destination. She cried out again.
“No! Stop, let go of me! Help!” She screamed, but the man only laughed. He was wearing all black, and she still didn’t have a good view of his face. He shoved the door open and shoved her inside. Finally, as she backed against the wall of the small room and turned to face him, she could see his face. He was in his thirties, perhaps, with hollow green eyes and a hooked nose. His lips were perfect and his cheek bones were visible under his pale skin, stretched tightly across his face. His hair was black and wiry, combed across his forehead diagonally in a sweeping motion. He smiled at her, almost sincerely.
“I have this for you.” He said, pointing toward a small Victorian love seat. On it, a beautiful red dress was laid out carefully, along with a garter and slippers. A thick hair tie was also beside it, as he had removed her bandana while she was unconscious and her soft pink hair was falling around her face and shoulders.
“You will change into it.”
“No I will not.” She snapped immediately. The bottom of the dress cut short just above her knees, and it was embroidered with white lace, as were the sleeves and neck. The neck-line was so revealing it made her sick, and the large ribbon that wrapped around the middle was tied back in a large white bow behind her. The sleeves were full and poofy. She would look like a slut.
“Oh, yes you will. You should be thankful I’m letting you do it on your own.” The man said evenly, his voice somehow remaining calm. Mariah shuddered and swallowed, but continued to look at him, horrified.
“And remember; the longer you take, the more time I have with him.”
Mariah’s heart stopped. Him? Kevin? Where was he, what was this man going to do to him? Before she could even ask, the man turned, swung the door shut behind him, and locked it, leaving Mariah alone.
And alone she stood. Tears finally appeared and spilled over. She did nothing to stop them. She slid down the wall into a huddle and hugged her knees to her chest. She shook. She rocked back and forth. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be happened.
But it was. It took ten minutes for Mariah to pull herself up and inch toward the small sofa. There was a bottle of red nail polish, blush for her face, and mascara; all chosen to complement her features. She whimpered and, reluctantly, pulled off her shirt. Her eyes remained on the door. There was no peep hole, no cameras, no suspicious holes in the walls. He wasn’t watching. She changed slowly, adjusting the dress to best hide her cleavage, pulling up the garter, slipping her feet into the simple white shoes with little red boys. She pulled her hair back and looked into the cracked mirror above the love seat, awkwardly doing her make-up.
She wished he was watching her. The alternative was so much worse; he was with Kevin. Was he okay? Was her best friend alright? Was he being tortured, raped, starved, murdered? How was she to bear the thought? She had to know. She just had too. He had to be okay. What if he was already dead? She struggled to get the mascara on while crying, but gave up. The end result was it trailing down her cheeks like tear drops, but with the blush, it gave her an almost doll-like appearance. She shakily did her nails, falling onto the seat and trying to focus on the action. She tried to avoid the cuticles, the skin beside her nails, but she managed to mess up anyway.
How did this happen?
-x-x-x-
Photographs. Police lines. Questions, endless questions. Explanations, over and over again. Red lights flashing, police barricading both sides of the road, people from around the neighborhood craning their necks to get a view of the scene, clad in their robes and nightwear.
Stanley Dickenson sighed shakily. The letter. The letter. And it will be soon. They had shown him the letter, the boys did, Rei and Lee. Gary was watching Mariah and Kevin. He had read it through. He had lost sleep over it. He had alerted the police. They checked for leads, fingerprints, anything at all. They had found nothing. And here it was. It had happened. The two where gone, leaving nothing but their blood behind. They had been taken, no doubt, by the man behind the letter. The man who wished to have Mariah be his wife and Kevin his pet. The sick b*****d who had hit the two young teenagers with a car, and taken them with him as he fled, probably prideful in his accomplishment.
“Sir.”
Dickenson turned. A young police agent, a new one. Excited, he was. Excited. Dickenson felt like bringing his cane smashing into the young man’s face, but fought and controlled the urge.
“Yes.”
“Please come this way.”
And he followed. Reluctantly, at first. He had been staring at the moon, and wanted to continue doing so. But alas, he followed. He was lead through people, under caution tape, and onto the scene. He passed the blood on the sidewalk and on the wall, and winced. They led him out into the street, where a large blood smear stained the pavement. He flinched, this time. More then a wince. His bladers, these poor children, how could he let this happen?
Two officers were crouching by the puddle of dark, cold blood, both with latex gloves on their hands. They were looking at something on the road. One reached down and plucked it up with tweezers, out of the blood, when he realized Dickenson had arrived.
“Sir, can you identify this?” The man asked. This one was older, more experienced. He looked saddened by the event, worried, concerned. Dickenson felt much more obliged to cooperate. He crouched as well and looked at it as the man held it closer to his face.
“Galmon.” The chairman suddenly breathed. He knew who the victims were, but this confirmed it. This blood belonged to Kevin, and the other to Mariah.
“Excuse me?” The man asked, his voice calm but curious.
“It’s…” Dickenson murmured, not looking away from it. “It’s a bit-chip. It belongs to Kevin Ki. This is his blood, I’m sure. And that…” Dickenson waved a hand blindly behind him, not looking away from the chip, “is most likely the blood of Mariah Yin... My God… this is really happening.”
The young police agent eagerly scurried away with the news, probably to report it to his captain. Dickenson sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head drop. His face fell into his hands. The policemen – the kind one – bagged the chip and handed it to the police agent that hadn’t spoken, who rose and left. Then he removed his gloves and placed a hand gently on Dickenson’s shoulder.
Neither said anything. Dickenson refrained from weeping, but as he stood and returned to his car, to retrieve some papers for the police, he fell into the seat, let his forehead fall against the steering wheel, and he let himself break down.
-x-x-x-
“Ahh! No, stop, please!” Kevin gagged, tears welling in his eyes. The man smiled.
“Please who?” He sneered, leaning in more, hand squeezing Kevin again.
“No!” Was all the young teen could get out, turning his head away.
“I’m sorry, what? Who are you talking too?” Another squeeze, harder this time.
“Aahh! P-please, stop! Let me go!”
An amused sigh. “If you’re going to get this way when I’m just squeezing your a**, you’re going to be so much fun when I get about ******** you. Now who are you talking too?”
A gag. A groan. A whimper. Finally, Kevin made himself say it. “Please, master…” He breathed, voice shaking. It didn’t sound right. It sounded horrible. It felt horrible. But the man just smiled.
“Good boy. You know, I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” He said. Kevin rolled his head away, waiting for the hand to move. It didn’t, just squeezed again. He flinched and moaned.
“My own little pet… my own kitten. All to myself. Whenever I want, whatever I want. Soon, you’ll be sitting on my lap, thanking me when I rub you’re ear. You’ll be longing for my ********, my touch, my tongue. You’ll want it, just you wait. She will too. She’ll love me soon. You both will. All in good time. My kitten… My pet…” He trailed off, lost in some euphoria of his own. Kevin flinched again and again despite the pain, feeling the man move below him. Help, he wanted to shout. Help, someone get me out of here, help me. But no one would come. No one could hear him, not over the hum of machines and the noise of the steam and cranks and gears. He could hardly hear himself moan.
The man jerked into a position directly above Kevin, rather then leaning over him; one knee on either side of the boy’s upper legs. He smiled devilishly. He had waited so long for this. Beside his pet, he had the outfit, the clothing, ready to go. The collar, wide and red, with the white padlock dangling in front of it where one might find a bell or identification tag if it were for a real cat. A plain white shirt, tight fitting, maybe just a little two small for the boy. Shorts, white also, that would stop before his knees.
No shoes. Red leather wrist bands, and of course, he hadn’t forgotten the siccors. Enough of that ridiculous long hair; he wanted his pet to have short hair, long enough to grab hold of, but short enough not to look stupid. He took the siccors and cut away the boy’s shirt, right up the front. He pulled it off roughly. He untied his hands and struggled the white shirt on; it wasn’t hard, the kid was injured and shaking uncontrollably. The pants were the fun part; the boy begged and pleaded and cried out the whole time, and the man had tortured him for a little while before pulling on the shorts. When he had the wrist bands and collar in place, he tied the kid back to the pipes and pulled out his hair-tie.
He took up the siccors again. Kevin was gasping, eyes closed tightly, trying miserably to recover from what had just been inflicted on him. The man pulled his head up and began to trim; the cut hair fell down through the grated floor and out of sight. It wasn’t the greatest haircut, but it was still fairly well done, given the amount of squirming Kevin did. It was short, spiky, ruffled. It covered half of the back of his neck, fell over his ears slightly, and as the man ran his fingers through it, he recognized that he would get rid of the bangs too; he wanted to see the kids face, all of it. So he trimmed it away as well.
Kevin looked almost entirely different. His hair was short and it fell across his face in even spikes on both sides. His eyes – both of them – looked up at the man, terrified. And after a long inspection of his work, the thirty-some-year-old stood and left, taking Kevin’s old bloodied clothing and the siccors with him.
-x-x-x-
Rei leaned his head against Lee’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Lee stared at the pavement. They both sat on the street, leaning against the side of a cop car. No one bothered them. Gary sat on the other side of Lee, head upturned to the moon, which shown brightly down on the scene where it had happened.
They were all thinking the same thing. They were all thinking about the letter, and what was probably happening to their friends at that moment. They were imagining Mariah in that dress, being held down against her will, screaming. They were imagining Kevin, beaten and bleeding in that collar, unconscious on the floor. They were trying to imagine the man who had done this, who was doing this. The man that they all secretly told themselves they were going to kill.
And they sure as hell planned on it.
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Oh God. Mariah is in a shitty position, but Kevin just got molested by this mystery man. Mariah’s next! sad -dundundundun-
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