Blistering Daydream
by
Indigo X
(Author Notes: This is DARK. Perhaps, this is cruel. But this is the by-product of having a mega-dose of Vast on my Winamp list, and Raw this week having a scene that was VERY reminiscent of my story Gilded Nightmares... which, by the way, should definitely be read before you read this, or you'll be very lost. Anyway, thanks to AmaraSidhe for creating Virginia Calloway (and for writing the kickass 'Vigilante')and for turning me on to Vast, Vast for providing, among other songs, the heavily-repeated 'I'm Dying', and the WWE for providing RVD, Kane, and a nice setup. Enjoy.)
It happens again as it's happened before, and I know that there's no possible way it could be coincidence. None. It's all too similar, from the chairshot to the handcuffs to the gag. All the same, all history repeating itself.
He's asked me where my fear is, confused and frustrated because I don't seem to have any. He scares everyone else, but he doesn't scare me... either because I'm too stubborn or too stupid or both. But it pisses him off something awful, that I have the audacity not to fear him like I should.
But he knows. He knows what happened to me all those months ago in that dark and dirty boiler room. He knows of handcuffs, of blood and tears. He knows of knives ripping fabric away, of fingers in my hair and of ice cold, feather-light touches against my skin. And he knows of the pain that came after. The soul-shredding agony that all but jerked away my very will to live.
And he knows that I was afraid then. And that I am still afraid of it happening again.
And how did he know? How did Kane possibly know these things, when it was all kept as quiet as possible? I told him, that's why. I told him when I respected and loved him as a brother, a trusted partner, a best friend. He'd shared his own agony with me, knowing I'd listen without prejudice, and in turn, I told him mine. Everything. The things that only one other person besides myself knew.
Yeah. If he didn't scare me in his own right, he knew exactly what he COULD do to scare me.
It's been hours, hours since he chained me here. And he was right. Nobody's come. Not a soul. The gasoline fumes are making me dizzy and lightheaded, my fear is screaming through me like a banshee horde, and the steady drip of blood, sweat and gasoline onto the floor is driving me crazy. I'm too tired to rattle my chains anymore, and nobody's heard me anyway.
I'm alone, except for him. Yeah, he's still here, sitting by the closed and locked hallway doors, tossing something from hand to hand. Can't tell what it is from here. His brown-and-pale blue eyes flick to me every so often, and he sneers. Like a snake, he's drinking in my fear. And he's waiting. Waiting for what to do what, I can't say. Don't know.
The cuffs cut into my wrists, and blood runs thinly down my arms, blending with the gas. Red, thinned red. Flammable. Endangered. But the pain's sweet in a wierd way. It's helping keep me conscious, and it's letting me know I'm still alive. And if I'm alive, I can still fight.
Sweet agony. Feeling through bleeding.
Jesus, I feel like I'm going to pass out any second. C'mon, Rob... stay with it...
There's the low thud of boots on concrete. Footsteps. The sound of heavy breathing, wicked snickering under one's breath, and the unmistakable stench of bad intentions whipping through the sharp, ever-present odor of gasoline. A massive hand sharply clenches my lower jaw, and my head's violently tilted up, so I'm staring into the mismatched eyes of insanity. Eyes that once belonged to my friend. But my friend, he's dead. The monster killed him.
His breath is hot on my face, his voice tight with wicked glee.
"Nobody's here, Rob. Everyone's gone. All gone home, safe to their beds, forgotten all about you. So do you know what? I've changed my mind. I think I will burn you, after all. You should be lovely when you burn, that pretty hair on fire and those big, vapid, pretty eyes of yours melting out of their sockets..."
He pulls closer. The nastiness in his eyes only gets nastier.
"...or maybe I'll fuck you first, how would ya like that? Rip that stupid dragon off of you, fuck you like the stupid low dog you are. Then maybe you'll be actually good for something, Rob. Heh, that's pretty funny, isn't it, Zen boy? The one good, practical use for you, and it takes a nutjob like Goldust to figure it out. Go figure, huh?"
His lips graze my ear. It's all I can do to keep from flying into a blind, freaked-out panic. It happened all once, so it's all happening again...
...there's a shadow. Outside, I can see it in the hallway door's frosted windows. A shadow with a sledgehammer, ready to strike.
Kane whispers.
"That's it, that's what I'll do with you, Rob. I'll fuck you, and then I'll burn you, and maybe afterward I'll piss on your ashes."
He wants it. He knows what I have, and he wants it, and he's gonna follow through on his sick plan to get it from me. But I won't let him have it.
Kane will never have my fear. I shut my eyes, breathe in and breathe out, bite down on the rag in my mouth, and calm myself down best as I can. When I open my eyes, it's to stare back defiantly.
I'm not afraid anymore, and boy, does that ever piss him off. Mismatched eyes flash with rage, and he slaps me as hard as he can across the face- unfortunately, not hard enough to knock the gag out. He screams at me, furious that, despite him threatening me with my worst fears, I'm not shirking in terror or shedding tears of fright.
"Fuck you, Rob Van Dam! Forget about Summerslam, you'll never live to see dawn! DIE!"
In his fury, he strikes a match and throws it to the pool of blood and sweat and gas at my feet. Flames roar up around me just as the sledge crashes through the window and a quasi-muscular woman's arm reaches through the door, fumbling for the lock.
So I'm surrounded by the inferno, blazing hot tongues licking agonizingly at my gasoline-drenched flesh. And still, I'm not afraid. Why? Well, because I have faith in that girl breaking in. She's the one I gave my heart to, she's never let me down, and besides... she's the only one who has true rights to my emotions, fear or otherwise.
Whether I'm gonna see dawn or not, I'm not afraid.
Because me being afraid? That'd just have meant that I died in vain.
I close my eyes and smile softly out of the corner of my mouth, ignore the pain... and leave it all up to fate.