This was a DeviantART request by a girl there called akuroku2010 who adored some Randy Orton, so the plot is totally and utterly hers, she just wanted me to write it. And I diddd...plus, I searched and died searching for asylum stuffz, but couldn't find anything so I imagined and quickly wrote, you know how it is. XD. Hell, there are GHOSTS in this fic so...let's just forget it and readz. ^_^

I know it's weird that there isn't any Jeff or Shannon or Matt or Punk or Cody even MENTIONED here. It's all people I don't write about very often. Randy, Batista, Evan and Ted~! Weird, huh? XD. Anyways...read on!

Title: Carpet
Rated: +18
Summary: Randy, locked into an asylum, full of pain and agony, has only one friend visiting him. David Batista. They stir up feelings for each other and one visit starts stirring up a mess into Randy's mind by making him see…ghosts? But unable to escape the asylum, it's up to Dave to rescue him…Slash.
Genre: Horror/Romance

Randy's POV

Suffocate.

Like under pressure, dying, slowly burning on the inside, it started with the throat and felt like I had no more oxygen left at all. I didn't really understand where I was, sucked into this horrid, horrid place. They told me they'd help me – I just laughed, laughed, laughed…until there were tears streaming down my face. All believe that I've faked my own pain, that I was fine, but on the inside, deeply plowed, there was always a problem and they just simply watched that conflict build and build and build, until it was simply spiraling out of control and I was left here.

Suffocating.

They locked me up into this dread, away from everyone else, because I did something wrong, didn't I? But there was no memory swimming into my head, just constant pain and agony, thrusting on and on, burning into the deepest pits of sorrow of mine and I had no idea why I've felt so…dead, so…unwanted, so…vile and disturbing. There was just cold glass separating me from the rest of the world and I looked down. I felt suddenly claustrophobic; I could feel the metal walls squishing me towards the glass…

Suffocating…

Me.

I let out a screech and I vaguely remember that that was one of the reasons they placed me away from everyone else. I always screeched, always screamed and always disturbed many and some of the others that were locked behind glass were starting to enjoy it, reminiscing, remembering the joy of the kill, something that the asylum was hoping to delude from their minds all at once but I was so away from the world, so alone, so…choking under pressure…and nobody really checked up on me unless it was for food or for pills and to see if I was making any progress by throwing some sort of toy at me and watching me tear it. I didn't know how it always seemed to get torn. Did I not remember the horror I've done before…? And every time I look down at the toy, it seemed shredded to pieces.

They explained that I subconsciously do it sometimes and that they need to keep me there a while longer. Susie was always telling me that I'll be out soon, that I'll see light again, just to keep some spark of hope left in me but all it had done was bring nostalgia, and then I saw Dave's face for the first time in a long time and my heart suddenly burned in hope. The first thing he'd done was smile, even though there was sadness behind that smile, he'd tell me to smile too and then we'd laugh, and he wanted nothing more than to hold my hand, placing his hand onto the glass and smiling wistfully, telling me how people missed me but I could tell the lies behind those words, just that he wanted to give me hope…so I pretended to believe them.

The next few visits were bliss.

On one of them, he slipped a drawer underneath the very tiny slot and even the very thin paper refused to go through but I finally managed to get it out, even if it was a bit torn. It was a picture of a little boy and Dave told me that that was his imaginary friend when he was young, that he'd found the drawing he'd done at ten years old when he was rummaging through and he told me that looking at it gave him hope. I recalled that name of the boy was Skimpy, since Dave had heard it young and always wondered what it meant and when he realized what it meant two years later, he simply grinned and kept out of his Mother's earshot when he called out Skimpy for games.

I kept the picture up above so I wouldn't ruin it in my sleep. I was just so scared of what O might do…and just as I hung the picture up, I felt a tickle onto my flesh and I ignored that until I looked behind and let out another screech but nobody paid attention to me since he regularly screamed but…

God…

It was a ghost.

It was a horrid ghost, wasn't it?

It moved towards me, shadowed and glowing and with black soles for eyes and it stabbed me right into the heart and I felt his heart racing and black spots dancing in front of my eyes, black turned to red, blood…and then I just suddenly remembered everything, a surge of everything, like a waking call. I remembered suddenly grabbing Evan Bourne's eye socket and purging it out, veins snapping and arteries bulging and the eyeball, squeezed to make a mess of blood, and then Evan's scream, the way I screeched randomly, as I tore his hair into shreds and pulled out a razor, sliding it down his neck into a perfect swoop of blood and decay, his entire heart showing to me as I slid it towards there, the four chambers slowly pumping and then I slashed it and the last heartbeat – I heard it so well and I let out a scream, that imitated Evan's scream.

I felt my enter body tense. But I still kept on strapping off layers of skin, like it was a game and saw all of his organs, slowly opening his liver up like a can, with a can opener, the blood spewing, the blood staining every piece of him and when I looked back, it didn't look like sweet little Evie, it just looked like a decaying corpse, lying onto the floor, with all its organs sprayed out in front of me to see but it didn't make me flinch but then I heard Evan's screams over and over again into my head before Evan's boyfriend, Ted, walked in, the love of my life, the reason I'd been doing this and let out a horrid scream, somehow I stared into his frightened eyes for seconds before I'd told Ted to tie together Evan's body into a carpet and he had, shaking and shivering and I helped, flattening out organs and sewing them together and I could swear that we could both hear Evan's short, sharp breathing as we knitted it together and Ted, stained with blood and drenched with fear, I'd strapped him towards the carpet of man-made flesh, and told him how it felt, lying down into the carpet of his love and I could remember what he was saying, as tears shakily spilled from his eyes, "it feels like he should be lying on a carpet made of me. I loved him…" the concept of dying for love was so fictional but looking into Ted's eyes then, I just knew that love was strong, and I laughed at his face, fooled by the concept of love. Love didn't exist, Theodore. I told him that, and he just continued his ragged breathing, stroking the flesh softly as if he was afraid that these pieces put together of Evan's flesh and blood would leave him. He didn't eat. He just laid down there for days, talking to the carpet, as if it would respond. He died with some sort of smile tugging onto his lips, stroking Evan's flesh.

I tore down Ted's flesh too, slowly sliding them together and binding them together. And then laughed at the pure concept of love, because it was just a bloody carpet for God's sake. It felt weird walking on it, but also there was triumph, there was victory, I was standing onto two people's insanity, that they thought "love" was real. Besides, it was really like I was walking onto them having sex, both of their bodies laid out, bare, and open to the world, but this "open" meant a can of blood and flesh, knitted together and stapled together. Sewing was never so pretty. This was real. This was one of a kind. This was two people's souls together. That itself brought me some sort of happiness.

Right now, it just banged me horridly.

How could I have torn them apart, limb from limb, flesh by flesh? Images seeping through my brain, the idea sinking in, that I could've done something so horrible. But it felt so right, to have decapitated and mutilated and torn to shreds…it felt so right and now it just felt so wrong. No wonder I was locked into this box of doom, no wonder I was locked into this dungeon of melancholy, I peered out to look as a blurry figure approached me. Dave. "Hey, Randy! Why do you look so pale? Why are you shaking? Randy?"

I was shaking, I felt light-headed, everything seemed to blur from every corner. "Ted and Evan…"

"Shit, they said you wouldn't remember-"

And the rest was all blared out by my screech of fury and pain. I could feel this urge to tear down the glass but I kept it safe inside and my eyes felt like they were shooting daggers at anything and everything but I look into Dave's eyes and I felt myself melt as he told someone to slide open the glass, that he'll take his chances. They finally obey his order and the glass slid open so that he walked in, and held my hands tightly and then just a spur of the moment, his finger lifted my chin and the entire world didn't matter and his lips softly brushed against mine.

I felt tears burn into my eyes. "Leave."

"Randy, you're safe…I know you are…"

"Leave!" I screeched, feeling the ghosts' laughter into my ear. Evan's laughter when Ted tickled him… I knew this wasn't safe. I knew those laughs weren't fake…I heard Evan's screams again in my head and gulped down my saliva.

"Candy-Randy!" Ted's voice rung into my ears. "Take the hammer and dispose of him…take the hammer and dispose of him…" it rung over and over, and the hammer was only inches away.
"Leave, Dave! Ted's threatening me to kill you!"

Dave only looked at me, slightly taken back, 'Ted's dead. You don't believe in ghosts, do you?" but the look on his face changed when I shot him a glare and he knew my answer. "Oh, Ran…" he pressed his lips against mine again.

I pulled back.

"You just don't like me…" Dave softly said, pushing me off so I fell towards the floor. "Well, I don't even want a psychopathic –"

Then Ted kept on whispering me. "The hammer…the hammer…" and I heard a laugh, a little boy's sort of laughter, before I felt my entire body drain of everything and fill in with another soul, a soul of darkness, that was reaching for the hammer and I hit Dave hard and there were people running towards us but I was threatening them with the hammer. The woman was calling on a phone, and I was looking down at Dave, hitting him over and over again, with the hammer, until he bled and he brought me close, stroking my face. "This isn't like you, Randy… I love you…"

And I hit him again, tears blurring my vision and my hands eagerly reached for the flesh, tearing it off like a layer of sheet, to expose what was inside, like opening the sheet off a cracker, to see what was inside and what was inside were mounds of his organs, and everything worked, the sound of it working was hitting my head then I grabbed the hammer and smashed his heart quickly, pulping it into mush, my Dave was gone and I was burning with insanity, after that, the lady was talking had fainted from the chambers of the heart that had bursted into nothing, leaving a mass of veins and purple-red flesh and I tore him back into pieces, flattening the organs as I had before, but I felt like I wasn't doing any of this, that the real Randy was battling for power over this psychopathic soul that had taken reign in me.

I was looking for some sort of sewing kit and then looking up, I saw that a smirking Ted was holding my sewing kit, putting it down and disappeared, it was so horrible, looking at him like that, with his flesh slowly sewn…I looked down and grabbed onto a needle and a thread and I started to work, stitching it all together and nobody dared come to disturb me because they were all too scared, or had fainted at some point, and I was glaring at them some sort of death glare that I didn't even know I had.

I sewed him all together, my Dave, and then I felt myself collapse and let out another shriek, feeling something, a part of me pulling out of myself and I finally looked up to see wide black eyes and a stitched mouth and sewed on skin, and black wispy hair in view. All on some sort of tiny boy. He tried to speak but couldn't and then he tore the stitches off his mouth, the blood seeping through and through. "Come on, Teddy, Evie, let's finish the job."

Evan walked towards me, the same stitched-look that Ted and the tiny boy had, and they were finally chaining me towards the carpet, and my heart let out a thud. I just killed the only person that could save me and the boy looked at me. "You know…" his voice was kind of chipper, sweet, 'I made you kill Ted and Evan, they're terrified of me…I made you kill Dave…he was so annoying, so needy, he needed to feel what I feel because he never really understood me…"

And he left me there, watching me, rot on this carpet. I suppose it was nine days until then. I was finally talking to the carpet of Dave I was lying on, "Dave…I'm so sorry, baby… I love you too…please…Dave…take me back…" the feel of his flesh against mine, with the stitches and the pain, it was horrible, it felt like I was sitting on slime and dry flesh, the blood making it slimy while some parts were just decaying dry flesh that I was lying underneath. "David, please…Dave…talk to me!"

I was grabbing onto the flesh, barely able to, cuffed and strapped… "Talk to me, Dave! I fucking love you! I love you! I love you!" I screamed out, until I felt like I couldn't scream anymore…
And I was raggedly breathing…

Staring down at bits and bits of flesh and blood…so much decay…and I was dying with it, slowly onto the inside, it was piercing through me. "Dave…talk to me…" I was…

Suffocating.

And I felt the boy walk towards me, slowly tearing me up but I was resistant. "Dave, talk to me! Please! I love you! I really do! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, talk to me! Tell him to stop this! I love you!" I screeched out, in rushed voice and I felt myself being torn to shreds, flesh off flesh, the pain was indescribable, feeling yourself strip and strip out of meat and flesh and bone, and everything you were made out off, and my breathing was so very short and sharp and I felt the black dots dance in front of my eyes. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…Davey…I'm sorry…I love you…God, I'm so sorry…for being a bitch…for putting Barrel-O-Slime into your shoes…please…I-I-love you…please…" but the flesh was ebbing away, the life of me was tearing to shreds and looking down at what I was, I didn't shriek…no, I just stared. "Please." I whispered once last time as the boy grabbed onto a knife and opened my spleen in front of me, slowly slicing through perfectly, as if he was slicing a carrot, so professionally.

Blood…

And then I couldn't really feel or understand anything and then one last stab and I felt the pain go away and my eyes shut tight and… "Let's make you into a carpet too. Like a love carpet. I always said that this was a good game…right, Davey? …remember me? Skimpy? I always have such good game ideas!"

Shut up. XD.

The carpet thing just appealed to me...I already had images in my head of someone smashing a liver into a table mat so...

There we go.

Oneshot. Funz. And all.

X Sam.