His scream cut through the sick silence of the night, and from his bed, Pete shot up in a cold sweat. His breath was coming out in short, desperate gasps, and in his ribcage, he felt his heart hammer against his chest as if he'd just finished running a marathon. Vivid images from the nightmare he'd just awoken from were still fresh in his mind, and he felt himself trembling slightly from pure terror.
It was the same nightmare that had been haunting the Goth's dreams ever since the cult-like killings that occurred no more than a few months ago.
It would always start off the same way. Pete would be walking through a graveyard when he'd come upon the tombstone of his deceased kindergarten friend; the very person he considered a little brother. The Goth would then approach the stone, rose in hand, and it was when he was just mere inches from it that a small hand would suddenly spring forth from the ground. Pete would then watch in horrified dismay as the now rotting body of Firkle would drag itself up from the ground, and his yellow eyes would glare at him. Pete would try to run, but fear would grip him in place. He'd then stand helplessly as the kindergartner continued to inch closer, and all along the way, he'd hear the small child's voice talking to him; saying that he was supposed to protect him. That it was his job to keep him from harm, and that he had failed miserably.
It was be shortly after this, when the zombie was about to strike, that he'd wake up screaming.
Of course, it wasn't always Firkle who was the undead attacker in his nightmare. When it wasn't the kindergartner, it would often be Craig, and other times it'd be Tweek. On a few occasions Butters had appeared as the undead assailant, and only twice had it been Bradley. He'd yet to see Bloodrayne as a walking corpse, however, but he would sometimes hear her pained screams in the background when one of the undead was limping toward him.
"I've gotta stop these nightmares." Pete mumbled as he flopped back onto his pillows.
Of course deep down, he knew any efforts toward this would prove useless. He couldn't talk about it to a therapist or any other adult under threat of execution by Mike, he was forbidden to talk to his friends under the same punishment, and all of Mike's other minions he was allowed to talk to would be unsympathetic or too stupid to comprehend his feelings.
The best he could do was just push it out of his mind, and pretend nothing was wrong.
He then shifted onto his side, and inches from his face, there was a familiar set of red-contact-colored eyes staring back at him. Again, his heart rate spiked and he nearly jumped out of bed. "How the fuck did you get here?!"
"You invited me. Now stop your screaming. You wouldn't want to wake mommy dearest, would you?" Mike murmured, his voice low and unnerving.
Pete said nothing; eyeing the intriguing vamp leaders every move carefully.
The vampire stood from the Goth's bed before speaking again. "I expect to see you in school today. Not out back smoking," he ordered.
"Is that the only reason you showed up at this ungodly hour?" Pete sneered; almost offended by the others words. "Just to tell me to go to fucking class?"
Mike ignored the question. "Also, when you see your "buddies", you're not to tell them anything, or there will be punishment."
"What do you think I am, stupid?" Pete asked; his sneers never leaving his features. "I know our arrangement, and you don't need to keep reminding me of it."
"It's the first day back to school. I thought I would give you a refresher." The faux-vampire gave a slight grin, his fake fangs glinting in the dark. "Because if you forget, your mother would have to pay for your bad memory."
Pete froze; his skin visibly going pale. "Wait...she was never a part of our deal."
"People are getting curious. I have to take some steps for... insurance." he replied, waving it off as if it were as common as going to the gas station - so casually it sent chills down Pete's spine.
"You leave her out of this." Pete hissed; the words coming out a bit more pitiful than he'd like. "This is just between us; she has no place in it!"
Mike tilted his head to one side. "Haven't you noticed that she is fond of our 'friendship'? She likes the idea that you have a 'good' friend that isn't a complete waste of life. This notion will ruin her if you don't prevent it… That being said, I have new demands."
Pete wanted to scream at the vampiric leader at that moment, enraged that he would even consider hurting as someone as meek and kind as his mom, but for whatever reason some part of him knew that that, for him, there was no say.
"...Fine." The Goth mumbled. "Just tell me what they are."
"Find new targets. The supply is running low."
"I thought you had other brutish lackies to do that kind of grunt work. Like Vladimir or Fang." Pete said in a rather dry tone.
"They're becoming notorious. People are noticing that the same two people are in the area of the kidnappings. No one expects you. Maintaining a low profile is key," Mike muttered, far too close to Pete than was comfortable.
"...whatever." Pete finally mutters out; knowing he had no other option. The goth attempted to back away from his pursuer, but found with every step he took, Mike matched it. "Dude. Personal space, please?" The Goth said in a bland, almost snarkish tone.
The vamp gave a low chuckle. "I own you, Pete. What personal space?"
The Goth wanted to tell Mike off, to possibly save the last shred of dignity and integrity he had left in his body, but the threat on both his friends' and mother's lives made just mere minutes ago made him bite his tongue. So, instead, Pete just let his gaze drop to the floor - lowering his head in a clearly submissive motion.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought I asked you a question." Mike said after a few minutes of silence. He then suddenly grabbed the Goth's chin in a harsh manner, and tilted his whole head so that their eyes locked. "There. Now let's try this again. What personal space?"
Pete winced a bit at the others threatening tone before finally getting out, "...there is...none."
"No what?"
"There is no personal space...master." Pete whispered out.
"That's better." Mike smirked; his fangs once again glistening in the moonlight that leaked into the room from the window.
Before Pete could comprehend, he felt Mike's lips press against his. He knew better than to try and fight him by now. The Goth stood there as still as a statue as the faux-vampire continued to forcibly kiss him - Mike's tongue eventually finding it's way into Pete's mouth without any resistance.
"...Pete? Are you up? It's way past bedtime." A tired female voice came through the halls.
The goth couldn't remember the last time he was so happy to hear his mothers voice.
Mike pulled away and swore softly under his breath. "You got lucky, Pete. See you tomorrow."
The vamp leader then made a quick exit out the nearby window near Pete's bed, and the Goth had to stand still in the darkness for awhile.
In the few short months since he began his servitude, he had always felt awkward and uncomfortable when Mike forcibly kissed him. Granted, it hadn't exactly been that many times, but it was still surprising none the less. Perhaps it was the memory of his treatment of poor Tweek before he died that gave their kissing that dreadful touch of unease.
Or maybe it was because deep down, Pete knew that he sort of liked getting kissed by the psychopathic vampire leader.
The Goth then shook his head of the thought, and quickly crossed the room to shut the window before climbing back in bed - wanting to spend the last three hours before school in a - hopefully - dreamless sleep.
~Later that morning~
Pete needed about another day's worth of sleep, but his alarm went off exactly four hours later. The Goth sword he felt a gaze on him as he woke, and flinched before turning to see if a certain psychotic someone was behind him. Alas, there was no sign he ever had been. Nor was said male in sight. Comforted by the fact that Mike really had left for the night, Pete gave a sigh and allowed himself to relax. There wouldn't be another chance to once he stepped foot on the bus.
He took his time getting dressed and preparing for school. He'd be pretty mad about the first day of school regardless, but considering what was likely in store for him once he got there, he was going to be in a particularly foul mood.
If he discussed it with his mother, maybe he'd be able to move over to another state. That seemed like the only feasible way for Pete to get away from it all. Mike had an operation to run in South Park. He couldn't leave it and chase Pete to the east coast, right? It wasn't like the Goth had very many friends left, now. Mike forbade him from speaking to Henrietta and Michael, after all. The only kid he was allowed to talk to who wasn't a complete idiot was Stan Marsh, and from what he'd heard, he was usually too busy making goo-goo eyes at his alleged kosher boyfriend, Kyle Broflovski, for conversation anyway.
He decided that was what he would do. Pete could smell his mother's cooking from his room. He'd speak to her right away about it.
"Good morning, hun." Pete's mother greeted from the kitchen area of the trailer. "Sleep well?"
The Goth couldn't help but feel his dark mood lift a little when he heard his mother's kind voice and begins, "Hey mom, and I-" It was then the Goth's finally adjusted to the light, being a bit blinded at first since he usually kept his room darker than the rest of the living space, and what he sees makes his stop cold in his tracks - actually paling a bit.
There, just mere feet from him, was his mother happily cooking breakfast, with Mike sitting nonchalantly at the nearby table - the vamp leader smirking when Pete made eye-contact with him.
"What's the matter, Pete?" his mother asked once she saw her sons expression. "Is something wrong?"
Mike had a sly grin on his face. "Have a seat, buddy. Breakfast is nearly ready," he replied. There was no sense of malice in his tone. How he was able to discuss brutally murdering the entirety of South Park one by one and still sound pleasant around those not in on his plans was a mystery Pete wasn't sure he wanted an explanation for.
His plan to discuss relocation with his mother was thwarted before it even began. That was another thing to curse Mike's name for.
"I… Yeah, I just had a bad dream last night and just now remembered it… I'll be okay," he said. He wanted to very badly to tell her the truth. With Mike right there, though, it was a death wish for both of them.
His mother didn't seem to notice anything unusual, so she just went about her cooking. "Alright dear. Are you ready for school?"
With a glance at Mike, he gave a quiet sigh and said, "I guess I don't have a choice. School's gonna start even if I'm not prepared, so… might as well give it my best shot."
"That's the spirit, Pete. Persevere," Mike replied with a sly grin.
Pete took his seat at the table, opposite Mike. "Right...perseverance."
Pete's mother then finished making breakfast, and served it to the two waiting teens - who both ate in silence. In fact, it wasn't until the food had been finished and the boys were heading to school that either said another word to one another.
"I saw our schedules. We have most the same classes this year," Mike murmured to the Goth.
"How'd you manage to pull that one off?" Pete asked; using a bored tone to hide the fact he was actually a little scared Mike had been able to get them into almost the exact same schedule. "You're a grade higher than me, and an honors student. Shouldn't you have all advanced classes or something?"
"Let's just say I'm not without my methods," Mike replied with a slight smirk. "The only classes I couldn't get us together in were homeroom, and second period. But don't worry; one of my other minions will be there to keep a close eye on you."
Comforting. Pete thought to himself bitterly, but kept silent.
The two reached the bus-stop, and as they were waiting in the frigid morning air for their transportation the Goth couldn't help but notice the numerous "Missing Children" posters stapled to the pole catacorner to where they were standing. Instantly, he spotted the images of the kids who he'd been held hostage with, and one imparticular catches his attention. A familiar face that was long since burned into his memory.
Firkle.
Just seeing the younger's picture caused a lump to form in Pete's throat, and the Goth quickly looked forward; trying to stay calm as he continued to wait for the school bus.