A/N: I'm replacing my story Nightmare with this one. Some of you are probably curious as to why and I shall give you the truth. While I enjoy writing chapters to Nightmare, it veered off in a direction that I hadn't intended it to go. It just wasn't the story I wanted it to be and it was becoming far too much to handle and write because of that. I apologize if my decision has upset you, but I can't light a fire with matches. So, as a result, I give you this: a brand new story, a one-shot, that will explain why Wade did the things he did in Taint and Survive. R&R. Enjoy!
Betrayed
"I'm going to fuck you, love. Hard, slow, and with my most prized possession."
. . .
Wade's upbringing had been, in his opinion, fairly normal. He was the second eldest of seven siblings and the only boy. Both of his parents worked and tried to make a decent living for their children. But there was no escaping the poverty stricken streets on his neighborhood. His father was a drunk and a horrible, wicked man who raped his wife every night when he came home, and even in front of his children. The man didn't care if they were watching or not; he'd do whatever, whenever. After all, his wife belonged to him, and she had no other choice but to bend to his will. She couldn't support seven children on her own; she needed him.
When Wade's older sister had turned fourteen, his father, instead of raping his wife, turned to her instead. Nessa screamed and cried and fought, but he was too strong, too aggressive. Wade would watch as his father raped Nessa; he would see her tears, smell her fear, and hear her screams. Something awoke within him as he watched his father force himself on Nessa; something vile and evil. And he loved it. Became addicted to it, and craved it.
And he found his outlet for it.
. . .
Reaching into his pocket, Wade extracted his switchblade, the one that had the green dragon emblazoned on it.
. . .
When Wade was ten years old, he molested his younger sister, the third child, Elsa. Hearing her screams, feeling her fear, breaking through that virgin wall; it all turned him on beyond belief, and he finally understood why his father had done the same with Nessa. Granted, his father was arrested for it and was divorced by his wife while in prison, but Elsa would never tell on him. He made sure of that. She would never tell a soul, not after receiving such a nasty burn by accidently being shoved into the stove, her hand colliding with the hot, black rings.
Eventually, Nessa moved out, but Wade remained.
At twelve, he had moved on and was no longer obsessed with Elsa. No, his green eyed gaze had now turned to Laura, and she was a real fighter, unlike Elsa who gave up after the second attack. Oh no, Laura tried to fight him off every single time he went after her, but she was never able to defeat him. Even if she had, Wade always got what he wanted in the end; it was one of the perks of being Mother's favorite, her one and only son.
Elsa would never tell on him. Laura was another matter entirely though.
. . .
Beneath him, John tried, and failed, to escape.
. . .
Laura ran, sobbing, to their mother after the fourth time Wade had raped her. She cried and screamed and told their mother everything. And she didn't believe a single word of it. It was natural, she had said, for a young lady to be intrigued by her older brother. But it was wrong of her to accuse him of doing such things, especially when she had no proof. And Laura had no proof. Except for his excitement, his moans, his slaps and nail marks on her body, she had nothing. Nothing that their mother found odd, anyway.
Defeated, Laura returned to her room and waited until later that night, when Wade returned. He taped her mouth shut and bound her wrists extra tight so that the skin was cut and bleeding. Seeing the blood on her wrists drove him wild, and he fucked her into the bed as hard as he could, reveling in her blood, tears, and pain. It was over far too soon for his liking, but the same thing happened with Elsa.
Wade would fool around with her for a while until he got bored of her. And then, he would move on. And move on he did. To the fifth child: Alexi. Alexi, in his opinion, was beautiful, with bright blue eyes and gorgeous black hair, just like his own. She was even more of a fighter than Laura. Alexi banged her weak fists on his as he shoved himself inside her, releasing a heated moan. Her nails scraped his skin, and if he got too close, she'd try to bite him.
Did she know that he loved it when she did those things? Wade wasn't sure, but God, how he loved her clawing and biting him. It added to his euphoric fantasy, to his pleasure, and to his need.
. . .
But that was fine with him; his fear turned him on even more.
. . .
Laura ran away from home when she was fourteen. Wade had just turned sixteen and he had moved from Alexi to Jennie. Jennie wasn't as beautiful as, but Alexi had stopped responding all together and that bored him to no end. However, Jennie was a screamer, and Wade was more than thankful that their mother worked evenings. He wasn't entirely concerned about her finding out because he was planning on dropping out of school and leaving the family to find work in another town. And even if she heard or saw anything, he'd tell her that his sister had forced him to do it, and their mother would believe him. She always did.
Soon, after he first had a taste of Jennie, he quit school and left the family house. His mother and youngest sister were sad to see him go. Elsa and Jennie weren't though. That didn't bother him. Elsa had begun to walk the streets as a way to earn money, so she was no longer of any use to him. And Jennie refused to speak anymore since she was either slapped or injured or not believed by their mother. It made Wade laugh, his usual cruel and humorless laugh, and one he had picked up from his father.
Once he was out on his own, he found a job in a factory and made enough to support himself. He also took to prowling the streets, picking up prostitutes and forcing them into horrible situations, ones that often resulted in their untimely deaths. But it was all in good fun and enjoyment.
At least, it was to Wade.
. . .
It was one of the things he loved most about John.
. . .
A year after he left home, he was arrested for theft. Wade spent a little over a year in prison. Upon being released, he had the biggest smirk on his face. Nine prostitutes. That's how many he's collected; that's how many have been forced into the river. And yet he only got busted for theft. Such a thought made him laugh and it only served to boost his ego and his confidence.
Wade returned to work at the factory, but he still continued his nightly prowls. Whatever gave him the best and most powerful release, he did. Drugs. Alcohol. Guns, to some extent, also became a part of his world, but he was tired of being in England. So, at age nineteen, Wade left for the United States and continued his rampage.
On the flight over, he met a nice young American named Felix and they struck up a budding friendship. Although Wade had left school at sixteen, he wasn't stupid. As a matter of fact, he was quite intelligent and he knew it too. And unlike his other 'friends', Wade had an actual interest in Felix, and not just for his usefulness and whatnot. They had gotten along so well and had enjoyed each other's company so much that Felix had invited Wade to stay with him at his apartment until he got on his feet.
Wade accepted.
. . .
His godson was feisty and determined and fearful, and it made his heart beat faster and his blood rush inside him.
. . .
Felix's apartment was fairly nice, all things considered. Being a college student and a part time worker at the local coffee shop, Felix was fairly busy and wouldn't be home all that often. Wade saw this as his opportunity to find a job, or perhaps even street connections, or something that would start raking in some cash. It wasn't long before he found a job at yet another factory. But he couldn't complain; it was good money, his only source of income, and it gave him evenings off, which he needed for roaming the neighborhood, searching, hunting.
After he had been living with Felix for a few weeks and had been working, Wade had become accustomed to the neighborhood and the town itself. Especially the downtown area, where all of the hookers and drug dealers made their marks. The houses in the downtown area were usually left unprotected, and he had managed to burglarize many of them before he tired of that.
Wade moved out of Felix's apartment within a few months of his arrival to the States, but they remained friends and hung out often. But Felix wasn't his only friend; Heath, with whom he worked with, also became his friend, his associate, and his lackey.
. . .
"Now, this'll only hurt a little bit, love. Then it'll hurt a whole lot."
. . .
Together, Wade and Heath managed a number of successful break-ins and thefts in the middle-class neighborhood, and some in the upper-class as well. It was all good fun for a little while, but it was not enough to satisfy Wade for very long. All too soon, his thirst for blood, for pain, for the tightness of a body beneath him, became too much, and he suggested to Heath that they have some real fun.
Heath was all for it. He was a southern boy, still ignorant about a lot of stuff, and he had never propositioned a prostitute before. But Wade had, on numerous occasions, and he was more than willing to do so once again. So, after work on Saturday, Heath and Wade, in Wade's car, drove to the downtown sector of town and picked up an extremely young-looking and frightened prostitute. She was new, very new, and needed the money, and Wade was more than happy to oblige her. However, he had no intentions of bringing her back.
They drove to a remote clearing near the woods a good ten miles away from their town. The three of them drank until they were drunk, and Wade encouraged Heath to take her on the ground of the woods. Heath, being completely wasted and over exuberant, did just that. Actually, Heath was practically giddy, and Wade smirked in his evil way when the girl screamed as Heath entered her, tearing her virginal walls and almost breaking her.
She struggled to get away, but Heath, fueled by alcohol and lust, refused to let her go. Eventually, her screams turned into moans as it finally sunk in that she was being paid for sex, and, much to Wade's disappointment, she started enjoying it. There was no clawing, no blood, and no fear. It was such a disappointment…
. . .
John struggled, trying in vain to break free.
. . .
Heath passed out when he had finished. After Wade had rolled Heath away from the girl, he grabbed her wrists and slammed her against a nearby tree. She groaned and shook her head. Before she could speak up, his punched her in her face, leaving a cut on her cheek and blood on her teeth and lips. Smirking slightly, he kissed her hard and rough and she struggled against him.
Wrestling her to the ground, he climbed on top of her and ripped her clothes, her skirt and tank top tore to pieces. He forced himself upon her and she screamed, thrashing her legs, trying to get him off of her. But Wade refused and he enjoyed it, enjoyed her thrashing and her cries.
As he fucked her, his hands released her wrists and he started punching her in her face. She tried to turn away from his blows, but it didn't work, and by the time he was done, she was barely able to breathe. Retrieving his switchblade, he turned her around and stabbed her a few times in her back and watched her bleed. Turning her around, he tried to cover her up with her torn clothing. By that time, Heath had started to wake up. When his eyes fell on the prostitute's body, he scrambled up onto his feet and started blubbering like a fool.
So Wade told him to calm down. That he was merely trying to help Heath out. After all, Heath had killed the girl.
. . .
Wade moaned softly before he pulled back his fist and slammed it into John's head as hard as he could.
. . .
At that point, Heath had begun to freak out and Wade had to slap him in order to bring him back into focus. He told his friend that all they had to do was get rid of the body and nothing more would be said about it. Nodding, looking terrified and unsure, Heath helped Wade drag the body further into the woods and left it there. Then they left, driving back to their town. Wade dropped Heath off at his place before he returned home. Once he got there, he took a shower and masturbating, thinking about what had just transpired.
Time wore on and Wade and Heath had created a sort of mutual perversion, one that involved hookers and murder, although Heath was more in it for the sex, even if he didn't mind the killing. It made Wade proud that Heath was starting to like the blood, fear, and death as much as he himself did.
Before too long, a year had passed. And then another year. Felix graduated from college and moved back home. Saying good-bye to his friend was incredibly bittersweet and he hated to see him go. But it was for the best; if Felix remained in town, he would have, eventually, discovered what Wade actually did during the nights and weekends.
. . .
He loved the sickening sound of his fist connecting with John's head; he loved seeing the blood fly and his godson's head hitting the hard, tiled floor.
. . .
Another year passed, and Wade knew that he had to get out of town as soon as possible. The police weren't going to remain ignorant for very long, and leaving would give him more access to other people, which would satisfy his blood-lust. After months of planning and saving, Wade and Heath left, driving almost half way across the country before they finally arrived at New York City.
The city was beyond huge and had plenty of urchins to fish for. Wade had never been more pleased. Not too long after they arrived, Wade and Heath fell into the gang business, selling drugs and guns and making more money than they had ever made before. Their affiliations gave them access to a lot of clubs as well as plenty of hookers. Heath struck out on his own, moving into his own apartment, while Wade stayed at his and continued his bloody rampage.
Some nights, he'd let the slut go home safe and sound, with just a few bruises and a bloodied lip. Other nights, he'd take the trash out. And that's how it went until Heath turned up dead one night, the result of a gang attack. Wade didn't need any further provocation. He drove from New York City to Massachusetts that same night, with nothing but his clothes and his cash.
. . .
Feeling anxious and giddy, Wade's hands traveled down John's luscious body, stopping only when they came to his ass.
. . .
Once his gas tank started getting low, Wade stopped at a gas station in a small town somewhere in Massachusetts. He fueled up and went to take off again when a young teenager, about thirteen or so, ran into him, gun in hand and a look of fear in his eyes. With his bronze skin, dark hair, and soft, brown eyes, he was the most beautiful creature Wade had ever seen. Shouts coming from not too far away made Wade look up. A group of larger teenagers were chasing the boy and, before he knew it, Wade hauled the boy up and shoved him into the passenger seat of his car. They took off, leaving the larger teens behind in a confused daze.
The boy thanked him and introduced himself as Justin Gabriel. Wade nodded and replied before asking Justin where he lived. Justin chewed on his lip before answering and directing Wade to his house, where only he and his stepfather lived. Apparently, Justin's step father was a drunk, much like Wade's own father had been, but instead of sexually abusing Justin, he hit him. That's why Justin wanted to join a gang, so he could get a gun and connections; so he could take his stepfather out.
At this notion, Wade laughed, and they got out of the park and proceeded inside. The door closed and Justin's stepfather came stumbling in, wielding a kitchen knife and reeking of liquor. He died before he could successfully hurt Wade or Justin and they buried his body in the back yard.
. . .
Wade pressed the blade into John's pants and the fabric ripped.
. . .
It turned out that Justin was actually sixteen, and Wade was pleasantly surprised at this. He was even more pleased when Justin didn't refuse his sexual advances. Actually, the young man eagerly edged Wade on and they spent the day fucking, drinking, and getting high. Although Wade had never considered himself a fag, he had to admit that Justin was gorgeous and that he did things to him and his dick that he just couldn't stop thinking about.
That's how Wade's little gang started.
. . .
When the hole had been made long enough, he tore the pants even more, and did the same with the boxers.
. . .
Wade started his little gang along with Justin, Daniel, Jack, and Dolph. At first, it was just a small town gang, but it soon became an actual gang, one that the police had a hard time to keep under control. During that time, Felix and Wade reunited. It turned out that the same town Wade had moved to was the same town Felix lived in. Apparently, his friend was getting married and Felix insisted that Wade meet his fiancé and be his best man in the wedding. Naturally, Wade agreed.
It was a lovely affair. Not a huge one as it just consisted of close friends and family, but it was still beautiful. However, not everyone liked Wade. Among those was Felix's wife's mother, Sandy or Sally or whatever her name was. She was an analytical woman who didn't care too much for Wade, even more so than her sons. But that didn't matter to him. All that mattered was that he had his best friend back in his life and that his gang was becoming incredibly successful and powerful, with a lot of connections.
. . .
In a matter of seconds, John's pants and boxers were in shreds and his glorious white ass was exposed, bare before him and taunting him in an enticing manner.
. . .
Not even a year later, Jonathan Felix Anthony Cena was born, brought into the world by his beautiful mother. Wade was there, having taken time off of his gang duties to be there at Felix's request. He was named John's godfather and was added into the will as thus.
But just like before, evil stirrings starting rising up within Wade, and they focused their attentions on Felix, his wife, and his son. Unable to trust himself around them, as it was his best friend's family and all, Wade dove into his gang work. Before too long, he had recruited even more members, one Michael 'The Miz' Mizanin among them, and his gang had started spreading out to neighboring towns and cities.
During that time, he ran into some trouble with a young, new police officer: Officer Orton. Brand new to the local police department, Wade disliked the man from the start, and it was very clear that Officer Orton wasn't too fond of him as well. Not that that mattered. Wade was able to get out of a speeding ticket and he was also made aware of the new pair of eyes to the local police department.
. . .
And then, out of nowhere, the sound of a gun being fired filled the air.
. . .
Things stayed like that for a while. Wade would have numerous run-ins with Officer Orton as he struggled to control his urges. Urges that howled at him to go out and pick someone, anyone, up and fuck them hard and raw and blood and then kill them and dump their body. Or, at the very least, beat the living shit out of someone. Either way, his urges were becoming harder and harder to suppress.
At the same time, his relationship with Felix was starting to become strained, at least, on his part. Wade disliked the fact that Felix was so successful at what he did, and that he hadn't gone sour like Wade had. He also disliked the fact that John was growing up to become a beautiful, young creature with the brightest blue eyes he's ever seen. Those eyes called to him. Begged with him, pleaded with him, to do something to John. And Wade wanted to. By God, did he ever want too.
That's when he devised his plan. It was evil in every sense of the word, but it needed to be carried out. John was calling to him, was in need of him, and Wade wanted to deliver. The only things standing in his way were Mom and Dad.
So, he took care of it.
A sharp pain tore through his heart and Wade dropped his beloved switchblade.
. . .
He tampered with the brakes on their car, and they died in a horrible car accident. That was when John was nine, and Wade, in turn, received what he had been waiting for: John. Having the beautiful boy under his roof made me more than excited, more than giddy, and he had a hard time controlling himself. For the most part, he's been absent from John's life and he didn't want to frightened the poor boy. Not too much, at least. So he waited until later in the evening.
And then he struck.
Spooning behind John, he started kissing him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, and cuddling him. He could feel John shaking, he could smell his tears, and he wanted more. More of John, more of his tears. He wanted the small body next to him, and he decided to have him.
The very feel of it was amazing. Wade loved virgins, but this one was especially sweet. And he absolutely loved it. That's when all reason left him and he lost himself to the demon inside himself.
. . .
With one shot, his plans had been foiled.
With one shot, all cognitive ability left him.
With one shot, he was no longer alive.
Surprise.
Pain.
And then, nothing.
A/N: I dedicate this story to VelvetKiller. Your support and reviews have always brightened my day and I thank you so much for everything you've given me. This one was for you; I hope you enjoyed it.