Why no, I'm not avoiding NaNo, why do you ask? Danny knows what's going to happen as soon as the door opens.
Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.
- o – o -
Have You Forgotten?
Danny knows, as soon as the door to his room opens, that he's no longer valuable enough to be protected.
It takes a second for him to run to the window. He's never tried breaking it (he has), but now he has to. He slams against the window, pleading for the glass to give way. It doesn't. The guards reach him, drag him away. Danny screams and kicks back, panic lending him strength.
The window splinters as Danny slams into it. He slides to the ground, stunned. The guard—their leader—hauls Danny up by his hair. Danny, dazed, can only stare back, cornflower blue eyes wide. He's afraid. His breathing is erratic, and he can feel his chest tightening imperceptibly. He breathes through his nose, praying the asthma attack stays away.
The guards drag him over to the solid table in the center of the room. Danny feels the ropes cut into his wrists as they tie him down. He flinches as they produce a knife, and shivers as they cut his clothes off. There's a draft in the room from the broken window.
And then his mother is there. Captain—no, he's a major now—Major Neville is there, holding tightly to her arm. Rachel is pale. She looks scared. There's blood on her hands.
"You know what to do," Major Neville says. Danny looks up, cornflower blue eyes locking with Major Neville's brown. It's only there for a second, but the teen sees a look of pity in the man's eyes.
Danny begins screaming as the first belt slashes down across his shoulders. He sobs and grips the edge of the table as another guard, finished tying his ankles to the legs—spreading Danny's legs obscenely wide—unbuckles his belt and slides it through the loops. Danny thinks he hears a zipper.
"Please! Neville, please! Please don't let them—!"
His voice breaks off in a high, clear scream of agony as the second belt slashes across the tops of his thighs and buttocks, buckle-first. Tears of relief course down his cheeks. They haven't…they haven't… Oh god, Neville, please don't let them rape me…
Danny sobs until he passes out. Neville's hand is on his face, slapping him awake. Danny can feel the blood drying on his back. There's more on his thighs, slipping down in little dribbles to coat his feet like sick, psychotic red paint. He sobs as he wakes up, can't escape the pain of the lacerations all across his back. Neville has a firm grip on his chin. Danny tries not to sob as the man raises a hand to deliver…
What? What is Neville going to do?
The teen closes his eyes tightly, breathing and heart rate accelerating. He sees Rachel—the woman who gave birth to him, who says she's his mother—tied to a chair. Danny looks away from her. Oh god he can't look…
Neville lowers his hand, and Danny feels a whimper of fear escape his throat as the tight, bruising grip on his chin is exchanged for a gentle touch in his hair. The major caresses Danny's face, and the teen's sobs of fear change to little pleased, pleading mewls. Both men see Rachel's look of disgust and horror. Neville smiles and runs his thumb down to Danny's lips, rubbing them gently.
Danny closes his eyes, trying not to let Neville see his tears. How could anyone notice a few more of them? He can taste salt—his tears—and leather—Neville's gloves. Danny chokes back another sob as Neville pulls a glove off and slips two fingers into the teen's mouth. The teen's jaw tightens, and he's about to bite hard enough to make the man reconsider doing anything, when a sharp pain rips through his scalp. Neville's free hand is gripping Danny's hair, forcing the teen to look up.
"Bite me, and I will let each of my men have a turn with you, while your mother watches. Am I clear, Daniel?"
The formal tone makes Danny take notice. He obediently sucks on the major's fingers, and the man wipes a few tears away with a clean white handkerchief.
Danny is left alone a few seconds later. Major Neville looks at his aide.
"Tomorrow," he says.
Danny doesn't know what will happen, but he's suddenly terrified. He sobs as he's left tied, bent over the table. The guards outside his door have a few hushed conversations. Danny clenches his hands into fists as one of them comes in. He won't cry. He won't. He can't.
It would mean they win.
The guard works quickly. Danny's sobs peter off as the man comes nowhere near him. A sheet of plastic is nailed over the hole in the window, and the guard does this as quickly as possible. He pulls his coat off and drapes it over Danny. The man smiles and pats Danny's shoulder, carefully avoiding any of the lacerations.
"Not all of Templeton's friends are assholes," the man smiles. Danny falls asleep, partially enveloped in the stranger's coat.
It's a dream, when he wakes up. The coat is gone. His only proof that anything happened is a sheet of plastic, nailed into the frame around the splintered window. Major Neville is back. Danny watches him, and the woman who's come into the room with him, with apprehension.
"Morning, Danny-boy," Neville says, loudly. Danny flinches—he still doesn't like loud noises much. The major laughs at him and pulls a canteen out from behind his back. It was clipped there, Danny decides. He kind of wants a coat like Neville's…someday. If he makes it out alive. He'll settle for any kind of covering at the moment.
Major Neville pours some steaming hot liquid into the canteen's cap and holds it to Danny's lips. Danny keeps his lips pursed, not wanting to drink anything.
"It's not poisoned," Neville says mildly. "But if you don't want any…" That's about the time the smell from the cap and the canteen hits Danny's nose. His stomach growls like a caged animal, and Danny flushes. He has one meal a day—unless his mother wants to see him, of course—and it's not much. A few slices of bread, cheese (if he's lucky) an apple (if Monroe is visiting him to gloat), and water (to keep him alive). But this… This smells like heaven. Neville laughs as Danny drinks, slurping and lapping eagerly to get whatever he can out of the metal cap.
Danny hasn't had beef stew since he was abducted. This broth came from a similar stew. Tears well up in his eyes, and Danny can't stop himself from sobbing. He's so homesick. So, so… Oh god, he just wants to go home. Neville lets him cry, running a gentle hand through the short hairs at the base of Danny's neck. Danny finally sobs himself out.
The woman is watching them. She's tall, solid-looking. Athletic, Danny decides, is a good way to describe her. She looks like she's never missed a meal a day in her life. (Probably because she looks kind of terrifying. There's a black armband around her right bicep. It complements the blood red dress tunic, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, quite nicely.)
"Danny, this young woman is Caroline. She's an Amazon."
Danny's heard of them. Kind of. It doesn't look like she's cut off one of her breasts, though, and she doesn't look like she'd run around in spandex.
"They're mercenaries. Caroline is a special case, though. She's a recent arrival from Pittsburgh, their home. She's…special." Neville smiles at her. Caroline smiles back, tucking a strand of reddish hair back behind one ear. She has short nails and tough-looking palms.
"I tattoo the men who belong to specific companies. My specialty and recommendation was the general's husband," Caroline says. Her voice is deep and mellow. "I'm here on special request," she adds, standing up. Danny stares at her as she rises. She's not as tall as he thought she was, but she's still scary—and broad. Not fat, but broad. Solid. She lays a roll of leather down next to Danny and unrolls it. Danny would crane his head around to look, but Neville's got a grip on his chin and is making him drink more of the broth.
Danny jerks in pain as the needle hits his shoulder. It hurts. Tears well up in his eyes. The torture goes on for what seems like days, but is probably only a few minutes. (It's three hours.)
"Put some ice on the tattoo. Let him rest for the day. Don't let him move that shoulder too much."
Caroline leaves, and it's just Danny and Neville in the room. Neville releases Danny from his bonds. The teen whimpers as blood begins flowing back to his hands and feet. The major helps him stand up, tsking slightly at the bruising on Danny's hips and abdomen.
"Looks like a damn PSA," Neville mutters. Danny leans against the man, too weak to do anything else, even ask what a PSA is. Neville takes one of Danny's wrists and begins rubbing it to increase the circulation. Danny sighs and curls up. Eventually he falls asleep.
When he wakes up, Monroe is there. Danny scrambles backwards. Or, rather, he tries to. Monroe has a hand in the teen's hair, and drags him off the couch. Danny whimpers in pain and humiliation. He swings at Monroe and lands one good hit to the man's midsection.
It takes six guards to bring Danny crashing to the ground, and another three to finally subdue him. Monroe has Danny tied back over the table, spread-eagled over the tabletop instead of able to rest his feet on the ground. The general touches the area around Danny's shoulder where Caroline's needles touched him for three hours. Danny hisses in pain. Monroe smiles and rubs the teen's hair affectionately.
"You should see this when it's finally filled in," he says. There's a note of approval in his voice that Danny finds terrifying. "I may have to poach this girl away from Carol. Or not… Well, I'll figure it out tomorrow."
Before he leaves, Monroe ties a bandage over the tattoo on Danny's shoulder, and has the teen retied to the table. Danny feels like a bug, tied on his back like this. He feels exposed. He is exposed. There's no way to hide. Danny's cheeks flush in humiliation as one of the guards in the room begins making obscene comments about his genitals. The teen wishes dying of humiliation was possible.
He's relieved when the second shift comes back, along with the friend of Templeton's that he likes. Danny falls asleep, covered by the man's coat again.
Caroline visits him the next day, to check the tattoo. She makes a pleased noise in the back of her throat when she sees that there's no redness or infection. Well, no redness that isn't expected from a new tattoo. She lets Danny chose the colors, and lets him throw up before she begins inking in the tattoo with brilliant peacock green and rich, dark brown like fresh earth (although Danny thinks of Major Neville's eyes when he first sees it, because it looks warm). Danny is, after all, being asked to decorate himself for Monroe's perverse desires.
He prefers staying curled up on the floor after she leaves, and ignores the food when it's brought in. There's nothing tantalizing there. It's a single slice of bread. There's no water. Danny doesn't feel like eating anyways.
Major Neville comes back, along with the two guards who whipped Danny two days ago. There's unrest and unease in the man's posture. Danny is too weak to resist as he's tied down to the table again. He flinches as Major Neville makes him suck on his fingers again, and flushes in humiliation as he reacts physically to the man's hand rubbing the side of his face and his neck oh so gently.
Danny takes his mind away, trying to ignore the throbbing between his legs and the humiliation at how easily Neville can make him react like this. He listens to Maggie read him and Charlie the Wizard of Oz. She does so many great voices. He's read the book hundreds of times, but he's never found the songs she sings at certain points. They just aren't there. It's sad. He wishes he knew if she'd made them up, or if they were from the Lighted Time.
Danny's next visitor is Rachel. She's clad in a shift that reaches down to her knees. There are dark shadows under her eyes that look like bruises. Her blonde hair is lank and unkempt. She touches Danny's shoulder, just under the tattoo.
"I'm so sorry," she says.
Danny looks away. "No you're not," he says. They are the only words he speaks the entire time she's there. Major Neville escorts her away, giving Danny a pat on the head before he goes. Danny feels dirty, and used. He feels like a whore. Except they, at least, would have had pride and money to show for their pains.
Jason Neville visits him, leaning heavily on crutches. He sits on a thickly padded chair one of the guards brings for "Lieutenant Neville". Danny and Jason have a staring contest for three minutes. Jason blinks first, and looks away. There's a delicate flush on his cheeks that hasn't come from exhaustion.
"You look like Charlie," Jason finally says.
"You look like a jackass," Danny retorts, words not holding the amount of venom he feels. He's just too tired…
"She's in the city, you know," Jason says. He's leaning forward, whispering urgently. "You have to be ready to go at any second. Just trust me." He slaps Danny harshly, and bellows. "You stupid whore! As if you think my father actually cares about you!"
He winks at Danny as he leaves. Danny rolls his eyes and goes back to finding animals in the pattern on the ugly carpet in his prison. His ankles hurt again. So do his wrists. His spine hurts. At least Neville was…well… He never raped Danny or even touched him that intimately, but Danny can feel the sticky wetness between his legs, dried now. The blush of humiliation on his cheeks says enough—he hates that he reacted like that, just to a few gentle touches.
Danny still wishes Neville would come back, though, or would have at least kissed him. Danny wishes he wasn't so humiliated. He wishes there was someone here who loved him—without having to hide it, somehow.
There's no one.
He sobs himself to sleep again, and misses the food being brought in. Half a slice of stale bread, a cup of water, and an orange—a rare treat.
- o – o -
Danny sits against the couch in his room, knees drawn up slightly. He has his arms wrapped around them, and he's staring. There are no patterns in the wall. He feels… Danny doesn't know how he feels. Hollow isn't strong enough, empty is too vague. There are emotions there, but he can't feel them strongly enough to care. His mother's repeated visits are torture. Danny hates her. He wishes she would die. (He wishes his guards would stop singing Let the Monster Rise, with their specially altered lyrics—made just for him! He really wished they hadn't told him about that movie—it sounds terrifying, and he has nightmares about the father-monster coming in to take his lungs away. Neville's apoplectic about it when he finds out about the guards educating Danny on pop culture from the Lighted Times. It's the first time Danny's actually managed to laugh since he was abducted.)
He doesn't feel hollow, or empty. He wishes he could be angry, or sad. He doesn't feel anything.
No.
Danny feels used. He feels used, and dirty, and…and broken. That's the emotion he's searching for. Broken. Like a toy, but not one that's loved enough to fix. Sometimes, Danny finds himself wondering if he was ever loved. Major Neville's visits leave him feeling sad and hollow. Jason's leave him empty, drained. Rachel's visits leave him sick, and confused, and he feels like he should die after them.
Monroe…
Monroe's visits leave him feeling broken. Danny feels like a broken toy that Monroe takes only the occasional effort to fix. And even that effort doesn't work so good. It never works.
Danny doesn't know if he ever lived outside this room. (He knows he has. He knows.) He doesn't think he ever had a father who gave him piggy back rides, or Aunt Maggie who read him stories, or Uncle Aaron who taught him how to play strange board games, or a sister (Charlie, run away! Leave me here, run away!) who took him on crazy adventures so he could pretend to be normal. Maybe he's always lived here, with no friends or family. Maybe he's a machine, or maybe this is Blue Sun and he's River Tam fighting scary monsters… (Major Neville's been getting pretty creative with the threats, but it hasn't stopped anyone yet.)
He stares blankly at the wall. His lower lip is split. He has two swollen, blackened eyes. Danny isn't sure if he's to blame, or the sofa… Or the chair (it's missing an arm now). Or the table (there's too much blood on that side to tell). Or the floor (he's spent too much time there). Or maybe the door (the doorknob does look a bit dented.)
The teen's spent a lot of time learning how to fall, and how to kick. He's gagged by the one guard he lets near him every day, before anyone else attempts to come in. Danny's got a nasty reputation as a human-shaped pit-bull. He likes to bite. (Monroe wedges his jaw open with a gag to keep Danny from biting…or talking.) He likes to kick too. Monroe kicks Danny, or drugs him—more likely to be drugged—before coming near him without restraints in the way now.
Danny's a broken toy, but he makes them fight for what they want. It's all he's got left.
He looks up as the door to his cell bangs open. He tenses, ready to fight. The cut on the side of his mouth throbs. His eyes may be swollen, but he can still see his visitors well enough. He's…
"Charlie…?"
Danny sobs as his sister (she's real she's real she'sreal shesrealshesrealshesrealshes real) holds him tightly, one hand wrapped around his back, the other running through his hair. (Shesrealshesrealshesreal…)
He sobs until he can't anymore. Charlie pulls him up, and they face the door.
Danny is broken.
There really is no escape…
He sobs.
He can't.
Danny fights to keep them from taking what they want.
His eyes are dry.
He can.
He
is
not
broken.
- o – o -
So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Does Danny need me to finally cut him a break? Drop a line and let me know!