A wild Aria-chan has emerged from the endless depths of Writers Block! *cue dramatic music* Anyway, this is a gift for my ABSOLUTELY AMAZING friend A Broken Imagi-NATION! She's super sweet and I wrote this to thank her for being so utterly fabulous~ I hope everybody who reads this enjoys it!
The clock ticking next to me sounds like my death rattle.
I can't think straight, my mind has been twisted beyond repair. All I know is that I need to get out, need to escape from where I am now, I need to leave.
"Andres! You're awake!" A cheery voice says from in front of me. "I was beginning to think you would never wake up..."
I recognize that accent. "Flavio, why the hell am I here?" In the dim light, I see his delicate features purse into a pout. "You're grumpy today, aren't you?" "I don't know where I am and it's very dark in here, no shit!" My voice rises and Flavio cups his hands over his ears. "Not so loud, sweetie, they might hear you, and then you're dead for sure."
"Who are 'they'?" I can feel my heart starting to beat faster and faster, thudding in my ears like loud footsteps. Flavio shakes his head at me like I'm a child. "Luci and Lutzy, silly! Technically, you're not supposed to be here." He puts one gloved finger to his lips. "But I can keep a secret. Can you?"
"Flavio, let me go!" He's walking towards me now, his eyebrows raised. He takes my chin in his hands and forces it upwards, twisting it from side to side. "Nice facial structure...How come I never noticed this before?" He murmurs to himself. I gape at him. "What the hell does that-"
"Now, Andres, you're going to be a good little boy and stay quiet while I go get my tools, aren't you?" His grin suggests that any answer other than "yes" would be very ill advised. He leaves me then, the soles of his boots clicking on the hardwood floor.
The silence is scary, broken only by the soft tick, tick, ticking of the wall clock. I don't like it. I don't want to be here. I would leave, but there are ropes binding my hands and ankles, I can't get out.
I can't get out.
He returns a few minutes later, a pink glittery (?) toolbox clutched in between two gloved hands. The way he swings it about, you'd think it was a purse.
"I'm back! Oh my gosh, you are going to look so fabulous when I'm done with you!" He strolls leisurely over to the wall and it is then that I see the bolts of cloth. In every pattern, color, and fabric, the large scrolls line the walls, interrupted only a sewing machine and a large black closet. He throws said closet open, the doors swinging soundlessly instead of creating a large bang. Inside the closet is a large table, which he unfolds and sets up in the middle of the room.
"Lucky for you, I already have all your measurements." He whispers, pricking his finger with the tip of a sewing needle to see if it's sharp enough. His answer is a small drop of crimson beading up on the white glove, which he then pulls off. With his teeth.
"Mmmm, this will be fun, yes?" He pulls one of the bolts of fabric off the shelves. "My own little dress up doll."
"I'm not your puppet!" I screech, rocking the chair back and forth to try and dislodge myself. I see something flash in his magenta-red eyes, something bad.
"Well well, somebody's being a bad little boy."
I gulp. The tone in his voice implies some things I would prefer not to think about. His smile twitches into a sly smirk.
"Ha ha, very funny Flavio, now let me go or I'll make so much noise it'll attract Luci and Lutz."
Quick as a whip, he's standing behind me, his hand over my mouth. "Hm, I don't think so. Now, accept this as punishment, and I'll let it go this one time, mkay?"
Something is forced into my mouth. Without thinking, I swallow, the tiny object making its way down my throat. The taste is sharp and bitter, lingering on my tongue even after the pill has passed through my esophagus.
"This'll keep you quiet." He giggles, and my eyelids droop once more.
...
I awake what seems like a few minutes later.
The outfit I'm wearing is tight around my waist. I look down to see the horrendous thing. White, long sleeve dress shirt, black tuxedo vest, tight fitting black pants.
"You look absolutely beautiful!" That annoying voice resounds from behind me, worming into my ears like a parasite. "I took the liberty of removing that annoying little white patch from your hair, sweetie, it threw off the whole outfit."
"Don't fucking call me that." My voice comes out in a raspy snarl, hoarse and definitely not intimidating. "I'll call you whatever I please." He reminds me of a cat, a smarmy alley cat wearing a scarf and fluorescent pink sunglasses.
"And now that you look absolutely perfetto," His fingers untie the bonds around me with a flick of his wrist, causing the rope to fall away around me. My fingers instantly go to my hair, pulling a section of my bangs down to check the color. Black.
"Bastard."
"Nah-ah-ah, no profanity." His finger presses to his lips. "The door is locked and the cats are away. Time for us to have a little fun."
He slams me into the wall, his blonde hair falling into his eyes in shaggy waves. The sunglasses fall to the floor, skittering across the dull grey concrete. My arms are forced above my head by one of his hands, the other cupping my cheek. "You look fantastic."
His hips grind against mine. His smell intoxicates me, a blend of foreign flowers and something musky. "And you feel even better."
I don't want to enjoy this, I want to hate it, I want to loathe it with my very being. The scent he's wearing, the one he's practically oozing, is seeping into my nose and infecting my brain. His hands on either side of my head, that dratted curl bobbing with his every move. It hurts, it absolutely throbs away in my skull, eating at my common sense, my rationality.
"Come on, my little Andres, you know you like this." He cups my chin in his hands and gives me a long, slow, sweet kiss. It tastes as sweet as syrup and as artificial as candy. I love it, but I hate myself for loving it.
I hate myself for loving him.