The Box I

CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Drama
Language: some
Violence: no
Nudity: some (f)
Sex: none
Other: PLEASE SEE NOTES & TRIGGER WARNINGS BELOW

Author's Note:

Malcolm teaches Thea to overcome her fears. Or, yeah, you can just read that as "Malcolm tortures Thea."

Some of you have been enjoying the father-daughter relationship of my Malcolm & Thea stories. You probably won't like this one, then. If you are brave, you can try it, but if you do, PLEASE read the whole thing to the end. Especially if you start to hate Malcolm.

I tried to classify this version of Malcolm as a different one from my usual... like evil!Malcolm from "The Prisoner" or evil!sadistic!Malcolm from "Broken Arrow." But it's not. It's him; it's still him, my "the nicest guy in the world" Malcolm. I find this rather disturbing. But anyway...

Timeline: This story takes place in Corto Maltese. It follows canon (so far, anyway). It is not directly related to "Turning Point," but can be seen as a continuation of that story, as well as "How I Met My Father."

This fic comes with trigger warnings. I write very close 3rd person POV; you may experience unpleasant sensations reading this. Do not read if you are afraid of rats (unless you enjoy being squicked out).

TRIGGER WARNINGS: musophobia (fear of rats/mice/rodents), aquaphobia (fear of drowning), psychological torture, child abuse, physical abuse, suffocation.

Please Note: there is no sexual abuse!

Props to King Diamond, who first recognized desensitization therapy as an interesting vehicle for torture in The Spider's Lullaby.

PS: Just for the record, I like rats. But it's true, they're not latrine animals. :X


I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

- Frank Herbert, Dune


The Box I

===#===

It was just a rat.

Thea dropped the trash bag and bolted in through the cafe's back door, panting, a hand to her chest. Malcolm, who was sitting at the back table reading a newspaper, went on alert. "What is it?"

"There's a big-ass rat out there!" she told him, wide-eyed.

With a small huff of annoyance, he relaxed. "I'm sure it's more afraid of you than you are of it. After all, you're a lot bigger, and you know Tae Kwan Do." He returned his attention to the financial section.

"It's a rat! A huge rat. They're slimy, dirty, crawling, sneaking, disease-carrying fleabags!" She shuddered. "And they bite!"

Malcolm frowned. "Actually, I think they're more furry than slimy," he said, masking his concern with dry humor.

Thea shot him a glare. She clenched her teeth and actually growled. "You're the big manly man! You go get rid of it!"

"Just bang on the dumpster with a broom; I'm sure it will scurry away."

With another growl of exasperation, she grabbed the broom and went back out as if she were entering enemy territory, expecting to be ambushed at any moment.

Malcolm chewed his lip a moment. This was a problem he would have to handle. That afternoon, he began setting out traps, but it would take him a couple of weeks to get everything ready for Thea's new training.

===#===

Her dad wanted her to wear just shorts and a sport top for today's session. He, as always, wore his master's gi. She was curious as to what they would be doing. He beckoned, and she followed him to the back room of the villa.

"You finished building the coffin?" she asked. That was what she'd dubbed his latest project, since he wouldn't tell her what it was.

"It's not a coffin," he said for the umpteenth time, but he was distracted now. "It's just a box." He stared down at it for a minute, then he turned to her. "A few months ago, you asked me to help you become stronger, to teach you how to not be hurt." He searched her eyes. "Do you trust me?"

She scraped her teeth over her lower lip while she gave the question due consideration. Then she nodded. "I do."

"Good." He gave her a faint smile. "Get in."

She quirked a brow, but shrugged. It's not as if she were claustrophobic or anything. "Okay, but I'm not staying in here until Halloween." She stepped into it, turned, and sat down. It was a little narrower and more shallow than an actual coffin, as far as she could judge.

Malcolm gestured for her to lie back, and she did so. "Trust is an important part of this training." He took her hand and secured it with a rope threaded through the side of the box.

She let him tie her other arm, too, briefly wondering what kind of trust building exercise this was. She felt a twinge of apprehension as he secured her ankles as well. If this were really an endurance test, he could bury her out in the yard for a few days. But she quelled this feeling with trust for her father. If he did put her through something like that, it would only be to make her stronger, and he would never do anything that she couldn't actually handle.

"Good," he said, with another reassuring smile, though some shadow prevented it from reaching his eyes. "Today, I want to teach you about fear. 'Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.'" He tipped his head. "Have you ever heard that before?"

She shook her head, her earlier flippancy slowly draining away.

He shrugged. "Well. It was popular in certain circles, oh... a while back." He grabbed something from the table. It was a wooden stick, about six inches long, wrapped with a leather strap. He held it near her face, nodded when she tentatively opened her mouth.

Her heart thumped as she bit down on it.

He stood and picked up a pair of thick leather gloves, began pulling them on. "It holds a basic truth: fear will weaken you, paralyze you, leave you vulnerable. You need to face your fear, to pass through it like fire. Just like pain, it can be overcome." He moved out of sight a moment, then brought back a wicker basket. Thea suddenly knew what was rustling around in there. She tensed as her father reached in and pulled out a squirming brown creature.

He lowered it towards her, and she tensed further, biting down on the stick. Her eyes went wide as she stared at the rat. Malcolm held it firmly, but not tightly; it wriggled to free itself, its scabrous little paws scratching at the leather glove, its scaly tail gyrating. Its whiskers twitched as if seeking flesh for it to bite into; it's black eyes looked back at her, soulless.

She whimpered and turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Open your eyes," Malcolm snapped. "Look at it!"

She had to obey. She squealed when he held it lower, closer to her.

"Look at it. It's not hurting you."

One hind leg slipped loose and kicked. Malcolm shifted his grip, and she thought he was going to drop it. She cried out even as she bit down on the gag. Its naked tail brushed her abdomen, and her muscles clenched. Another squeal broke from her throat.

"It's not going to hurt you," her father insisted in a maddeningly calm tone. "Hold still."

Oh no, he wouldn't! She thrashed, but there was no room to hide in the narrow box. Now the thing was on her stomach! She felt its weight, its oily fur. She screamed when it started to move towards her face.

Malcolm kept hold of its tail. Its tiny claws scratched at her skin as it tried to break free. She took another breath and screamed again. Get it off!

He picked it up, letting it dangle head down from his fist. "They are rather dirty," he muttered as he brushed the edge of his hand across her midriff. Did that thing just shit on her? She tried to recoil, but it was on her skin, smeared there and wet. That filthy thing! She was about to spit out this damned stick and tell him to get it away from her, but he lowered it again.

Its front paws were bicycling in a frantic blur as it tried in vain to escape. Malcolm rested the rat's front quarters on her stomach, and it scrabbled and clutched at her, trying to grab her. It felt as if it would dig a hole through her skin. She tried to buck it off, but he just held it there.

"Thea, stop it!"

Then the rat was on her; it scrambled freely onto her breast. She screamed again and twisted, tried to throw it off. It lost its footing and smacked against her chin. It slid off as she whipped her head to the side, then it landed partly on her hair, its whiskers brushing her ear. She squealed and twisted.

"Hold still," her father demanded, but she couldn't. She could feel its fat body against her head, its questing snout poking around. "Look at me!" Malcolm put a hand on her shoulder.

She stared desperately at him, pleading with her eyes to for him to take this thing away.

He didn't.

"Thea, I understand, sweetheart; I really do. But you have to stop panicking." He pinned her with his cold eyes, and she held onto his gaze as if it were a lifeline. "Take a breath. Good." Her exhale came out as a whimper. "Now focus on what it is doing. Feel it. It is not hurting you."

Thea shook with fear. It was stupid; he was right; but she couldn't stop it. That filthy thing was crawling around by her head! And she wanted it the hell away from her!

She whimpered again. Please!

He shook his head slowly, and reached into the basket for two more rats.

Thea screamed, now half in fear and half in anger. She whipped her head back and forth. No! No! No!

The second rat dropped onto her belly, then the third. They bumped each other and splayed their paws as she tried to shake them off. She heard a high-pitched squeak loud in her ear as she set the first rat running around in a frenzy. She could see it out of the corner of her eye, trying to climb the sheer wall of the box.

Another rat landed on her thigh. She jerked and it fell off. Then more landed on her hip and stomach. She screamed for it to stop. They scampered over her. One slid down between her legs, and she thrashed away from it. That only brought her shoulders and head into contact with the others.

Thea closed her eyes and kept screaming. Rats dashed everywhere, around her, over her, under her knee, under her neck. She jerked her leg. She kicked out. She felt a fat fuzzy body between her foot and the box. She pressed to stomp the damned thing to death, but it squirmed and squished, and it was too disgusting.

They were all over her, claws scratching her skin, clinging to her clothing. She could smell them, their animal musk, their excretions that they left, warm and wet, all over her. Just like them, she couldn't escape, no matter what she did. Panic overwhelmed her senses.

===#===

"Thea, stop it! Hold still!" Malcolm's chest hurt deep inside, but he knew he had to be strong, for his daughter's sake. He dropped the last of the rats into the box with her, then leaned closer and put his gloved hands on either side of her face. "Open your eyes. Thea, look at me! Look into my eyes."

He held her head from thrashing, and she opened her eyes.

"Look at me, baby. Just calm down. You're safe."

She whimpered and squealed, panted in abject fear. Her body jerked every time the rats shifted or bumped into her.

"Listen to me! Stop panicking." His eyes bored into hers, willing her to be strong. "They're not hurting you. You are doing this to yourself!"

Her breath tore out in ragged sobs. Tears poured from her wide, pleading eyes.

"Get control! Come on, baby; you can do it. Just breathe."

She started shaking, and her eyes unfocused. Slowly, they rolled up. Malcolm bit on the fingertips of his left glove to pull it off, grimacing at the acrid tang of rat piss. He lightly slapped her cheek to bring her around. "Stay with me, baby."

Tremors violently wracked her body. Her eyes were open, but he couldn't tell if she was truly seeing him. He tapped the skin of her face with his bare fingertips, but her responses were dulling.

Then he saw the light go out of her eyes, leaving them blank, like a doll's. She snapped like a puppet cut loose from its strings, and her body went limp.

===#===

Thea felt herself floating.

She saw, heard, and felt nothing, just that floating sensation. And it was very warm.

Her eyes drifted open, and she saw the warm yellow tiles of the bath. She was in the tub, neck deep in hot, soapy water. She felt a hand on her cheek; it was her father, kneeling next to the tub, his sleeves rolled up, holding her so her head didn't slip under the water. She gasped faintly as he came into focus.

"You awake now?" he asked gently. Slowly, he withdrew his hand.

"I..." Her voice was hoarse. She was going to ask where she was, but she could see. She didn't know how she'd gotten there, and - a quick glance down showed the thick carpet of bubbles on the surface of the water obscured her naked body. "What happened?" She sat up a bit straighter.

"What do you remember?"

"I... remember... the r-" Panic kindled in her belly. "R-Ra-" She trembled.

"It's all right; you're safe." Malcolm leaned over to embrace her, and she tried to shy away, but there was nowhere to go. He pulled her to his chest where his gi was warm and dry. He rubbed her bare shoulders. "Everything is all right. You did well. Next time won't be so hard."

Another tremor passed through her.

"Shhh," he soothed. "It's all right."

Thea suddenly became aware of her nakedness, and she stiffened. This time, Malcolm noticed her distress and released her. He turned away. She hugged herself and slipped back down in the tub.

"If you're all right now," he said, "I should leave you alone."

She nodded, then belatedly realized he couldn't see it. "I'm fine," she rasped out.

"Good." He rose to his feet and left.

She remained in the bath, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, slowly coming back to herself. She watched steam lazily rising from the water. It was warm. And most of all, clean. After those things peed all over her...! She shivered and started scrubbing at her skin. Filthy, diseased things!

===X===


End Notes:

"Today, I want to teach you about fear. 'Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.'" He tipped his head. "Have you ever heard that before?"

...

He shrugged. "Well. It was popular in certain circles, oh... a while back."

Bloodsong: hang on, Brain. Are you trying to tell me Malcolm was... a nerd!?

Bloodsong's Brain: Read his trading card info thing again. It says he has genius level intelligence, doesn't it?

...wow, you learn something new every day!

.

The original quote is from Dune. Perhaps you might know it better from Peter Puppy in Earthworm Jim. :X