Hey, I'm Kittizen and I have had six billion ideas for a DGM fic. Finally, after reading and watching for so long, I have an idea I like so… Here it is.
Trigger warnings; Attempted Non-Con, Gore, swearing.
I threw up, arms out, struggling to scream under his calloused hands. My nails dug into his skin, warm wetness sinking between my fingers as I cried out.
I felt his grip tighten on the fabric of my dress while he walked me backwards and further into my room. He didn't seem to notice how deep my nails had dug. My mind raced; I knew he was closing in on the bed. I knew what was going to happen if he got any closer. He shoved my hands aside, laughing. The lamplight caught the white of his serpentine smile.
"You like it rough, oh, darling, i can make it rough." His breath reeked of the alcohol from the bar.
The bitter nasty scent of stale beer and low shelf liquor wafted about me as he inched me farther back. His hand was still on the skirts of my dress, his hands smacking away my attempts of escape.
"Daniel, please," I whispered, I finally pulled my arms back, protecting my front by holding them to my chest. "This isn't you. You don't want to do this, you're just drunk." I searched his eyes for something human, anything at all.
This was the boy who had grown up tending the fields right next to my father, we were friends. There was no way he was actually like this- it was just the alcohol, I reasoned.
Daniel paused a moment, his breathing rough. He seemed to think on that before taking his hand from me. I gave a relieved sigh, dropping my hands. He was coming to reason.
Daniel watched me relax, as I gave him the benefit of the doubt. It wasn't until I saw the predatory glint in his eyes return that I realized I was a fool. He shoved me down by my shoulders, the back of my legs hitting my bedframe and collapsing, my body spread on the bed. I attempted to push myself up, but the weight of his hand was pressed down against my chest as he hoisted himself atop me. I felt the tears well, my heart slamming against my ribs.
No, no, no, no, no, no-
I fought back, I promise. I slapped and clawed and all the while he laughed at me, tearing off the fabric his own mother had made to clothe me. He felt no remorse; he was high on the power of making his childhood friend feel violated. This wasn't the Daniel i knew, but it was the Daniel he was.
"Shhh," He cooed, rough hands collecting my skinny wrists and forcing them above my head. "You'll enjoy it, you'll thank me afterwards."
"Get off me." I spat, quite literally shooting a wad of my saliva at his eye.
It caught, cold and slimy, right where I aimed. He howled in fury, letting my wrists go and rubbing his face. I tore myself from under him, feeling my chest ache from the weight he had put on me and shoved him off the bed.
He feel in a heap of muttered curses, sheets tangling him. I ran, only making it to the door before arms threw me aside, causing me to slam against the wall. My head had struck the wall roughly enough that my vision blurred. I blinked slowly as Daniel's arms reached out again, his expression both enraged and starving. Tears fell.
"Please, stop." I begged, my voice just a hoarse whisper.
I knew what he was going to do with me. I knew he'd never let me go.
Daniel would either take my life from me completely, or never let me have one after this. Would he call me a witch after this, when I went to the police? Would he claim I seduced him? Would he force me to leave my own village because he was a sick monster and couldn't face the charges to follow? Or was I being ridiculous, because he would surely strangle me after this and throw me down river to rest in the cold depths of mother nature.
I didn't want this. I would never want this. He was a monster. He was the one that deserved to die suffering with his last breath, not me. He needed to die. Not me. Him.
If I wanted to get away, I'd have to kill him. But was I even capable of murder?
I felt myself lighten, as if someone else carried my weight. I gritted my teeth, fingers flexing and tingling with an odd sensation.
Like before, I threw my arms out, my vision clearing, but head still throbbing in pain. I wondered idly if I was bleeding just as my fingers connected with his skin.
There was a rush of an odd sensation, like claps of thunder or the force behind waves striking rough rock. It could only be described as one thing: power.
The flesh of Daniel's arm rippled under the skin all the way to his rolled sleeves. Then, it began in an instant. The ripple became tears, like when you'd carve cooked meat, his skin splitting and splicing at the tips of his fingers and up his arm. He let out a scream so filled with raw terror I knew I'd never forget it. Blades of his flesh continued to peel, muscles stripping themselves behind to show the pearly whites of bone, while the tearing went on past his arm, spreading and splitting from his shoulder to his neck, face and chest. Blood leaked, blossoming crimson under his clothes.
It was like he was unraveling.
He choked on his screams, lips sliding off and flashing me his off-white smile while he seemed to melt. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?" he strangled out, red sloshing out of his mouth in a blend of teeth and cheek meat. He kept screaming, his voice slowly descending into a gurgle of soggy cries.
In shock I said nothing, sliding away with the wall as he broke in on himself.
He was finally quiet. The wet sounds of his organs slipping out is what finally made me choke. I fought the bile in my throat, Daniel's body now a heap of his bones, flesh, and the clothes he wore; I watched as they steadily soaked up his blood.
Slowly I made my way to my bed, the foul stench of death heavy in the air. I sat, staring at my hands while they quivered.
"What the hell was that," I whispered to no one, Daniel's blood seeping deep into my wooden floors.
I was wrong to think it would be so easy. Hiding a body, especially one that was mostly mushy flesh, bones and bile, was hard. I had made my second trip to the pig pen before realization struck me.
They would come looking for him. They would find the blood stain, already dried from my best attempt at scrubbing the now maroon wood, and know I killed him.
I dumped more of the waste into the pen, the pigs fighting amongst themselves for the remains of the man who attempted to rape me. I glanced down at the animals. He deserved this.
What "this" had been, I don't know. What happened when I touched him? Was it really me that did it? Of course it was me, but how? I was confused, about both the mystery behind Daniel's death and of what to do next. I couldn't stay here, I'd be charged with murder for sure. The pigs would eat Daniel's remains, but i still had a blood stain the size of a herding dog in my own room; they would book me in an instant… I had to leave, but where would I go?
I brought the murky bucket I held back to my home, shutting the door softly behind me. The fireplace still burned bright despite the fact I hadn't tended to it since Daniel had stumbled, drunk and uninvited, into my home. The kitchen was small, just a wood stove and some cabinets. My sink was metal and wide, empty other than a glass from earlier. Though my home was little and lacked what I dreamed of, it was still my home.
My fingers traced the pattern in my father's old arm chair by the fireplace, and I thought back on happier times. I'd miss having such close connection with the memory of my parents, both deceased after dying during our last long winter. They had been old to start with, almost in their forties when they finally had me. I was a miracle child, they told me; my parents had tried for years before they finally gave up and I was born. They died in short spans between each other, both buried in the town cemetery.
I was lonely without them. I had only my mother's candle shop and my father's farm to keep me going. Farming was hard work and I was terrible at it, so mostly I hired people, people like Daniel who had been my farm hand, to take care of the fields while I fed the animals myself.
My passion really came from my mother's candle shop. I created hundreds of candles a week, shaping them and cutting them into masterpieces. My mother was from dutch ancestry and her family had passed the art of candle carving down to her before she arrived in England. She taught me what she knew and I had been advancing my techniques since.
I had once thought I would buy a shop in a much bigger city, like Manchester, and sell my creations for what they were really worth, but now I had no dream like that. I had to leave everything behind. I sighed heavily and turned on my heels, heading to my room to pack.
The train was early, dawn not even rising yet as I waited. I lifted my bags, careful to not slam them against me as I approached and stepped onto the train after it came to a stop. I wondered if I smelt like smoke and in a moment of panic i sniffed my coat sleeve, only inhaling the smells of my old home.
I handed my ticket off, noticing i was the only passenger at my stop. The train was practically vacant, with only one man a bit older looking than me in my car and an elderly woman in the very back of the car, sleeping soundly and snuggled in a very warm looking scarf. Still, I felt worried.
Did I look guilty? I must have. I had just thrown my most precious belongings in some suitcases and set my home aflame. I had taken my stash of money and emptied my register at my candle store to buy a ticket for a train across my country to avoid my fate of ending up in jail for murder.
Sure, I had hiked past two villages just to take my train unnoticed, but I still felt like I had eyes on me, like someone was watching my every move.
I took a seat, my suitcases at my feet and hands in my lap. My mind raced, begging for an answer as to what was next.
I rubbed my gloved hands together, having taken the precaution of gloves to make sure my accident with Daniel did not happen again. They were thin leather but warm enough, I thought while i gazed out the window. Snow was beginning to fall, the train jerking into motion and turning the snow flurries into a blur. I was lost in my thoughts when I felt something like a prickle of fear run down my body making my toes curl in anticipation. I held a breath, feeling eyes on me and a presence at my side.
I swung my head around, startled.
"Whoa, my apologies Miss." the equally startled man said, his hands raised in surrender as he took a step back. He gave an apologetic smile, " I didn't mean to scare you, just wanted to see if you were okay. You look a little…" he trailed off and panic prickled further at my neck.
Scared? Suspicious? Like I murdered someone just a few hours ago?
"You look a little worried is all." he took a seat across from me, crossing one long leg over the other.
He was tall, I had noticed that right away. With tanner skin than mine and messy dark waves. He was utterly handsome with a beauty mark just under his eye. I couldn't help but wonder why such a handsome man with such nice clothes was traveling so early in the morning in low class seating.
"You don't look like you'll be sleeping at all and i'm a little lonely, would you care for my company, miss?" he was so polite, his smile so genuine, I couldn't argue.
"Yes, sure." I faked a decently convincing smile. Brushing back a lock of my dark hair I continued, "What is your name, stranger?"
"Tyki," the man offered back my smile before copying me and brushing a loose lock of his hair out of his face. "And yours?"
"Laci." I lied easily, lowering the drop down table on the wall between us. "You have a unique name, Tyki."
Despite this man's charming demeanour, I felt thankful for the couple inches of table between us.
Tyki nodded, dulling his smile to just an open expression. "I've been told… So tell me Laci, what is a beautiful girl like yourself doing traveling alone in the early morning like this?"
He pulled a cigarette from his jacket then paused, glancing at me. "Do you mind?"
I waved a hand. "Go ahead. It's nothing extravagant, I'm just traveling around. Trying to see the country. Nothing too big."
I just killed my childhood friend after he attempted to force himself on me and I just need a vacation is all.
I almost scoffed at the vicious sarcasm floating amongst my thoughts. I killed a man, and now I was chatting it up with a strange man at almost five in the morning. How I've progressed.
The lies were coming easily I noticed, and for a moment I was grateful to this man who had randomly waltzed up to me; he was giving me a chance to create my new backstory. All of it, a new name, new life, new purpose, a reason to be on the train.
Tyki lit his cigarette, he took a long drag and glanced over me. "Just traveling? Sorry," he laughed a little. "I thought you were on the run or something. That's why I came over. You looked terrified when you hopped on here, like you had just killed a man."
I forced a laugh out, trying to ignore the lump in my throat. I might as well have had 'Murderer' written on my forehead.
"Me? No, I don't have the guts or need to do something like that." I switched my attention to the carpet of the car, a nice foresty green color with almost gold swirls inlayed. "Just traveling. I need the fresh air."
Tyki shifted in his seat, catching my attention. When i looked up, he was pulling something from coat jacket, and i realized instantly that it was a deck of cards.
"Do you play?" he nodded at the cards as they slid out of their box. He flashed their backs to me, black and white diamonds glittering past my vision while he began to shuffle with an expert hand.
His eyes, which I noticed were a dark unnatural amber, watched me.
I thought hard, digging back in my mind and hoping to find something so I wouldn't seem like an idiot to the gorgeous man across from me. I felt a prickle of a memory, hands moving fast while shuffling cards, but it was old and honestly just felt like a memory from a dream-faded and probably irrelevant.
Finally, I shook my head. "No, I'll be honest I don't know any card games."
"Well I can teach you a few while we get to know each other." Tyki promised, dusting the ash of his cigarette in the inlaid cigarette dish on the table. "I'll ask you a question then you ask me one, then we break after a few questions so I can teach you a game. How about we start with a game of War."
Tyki cut the deck, handing me half and putting his cards face down. "I'm going to guess you know the card names at least?"
I shot him a look and he smirked, taking a drag before continuing. "Aces are the highest, then Kings, Queens, the Jacks and then the numbers starting from ten to one. The point is to get the highest card. Say I thrown down a Jack and you throw down a nine, who wins?"
"You do?" I answered back uncertainly, fingers resting on my deck already.
"Yes. You get it, any questions before we start?" Tyki put out his cigarette, glancing at me curiously while smoke curled from his lips.
My brow furrowed and I rested my eyes on his deck. "What about Jokers?"
He blinked in surprise, dropping his dead smoke in the ashtray. He looked a little amused by my question, hand reaching for his deck. "Well that's easy to answer…"
Tyki lifted a card from his deck, expression suddenly serious.
"War is no place for a Joker." he locked eyes with me, amber on grey.
And then our game began.
Special thanks to my Beta, Eoin (TransJohnnyGill), without you, I seriously wouldn't have considered publishing this fic, thank you.
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