Henry felt as if he was dying, a slow and agonizing death. The last few weeks he'd been camped out in his room. Determined 100% not to go through the hole in the wall. He was going to stay away from Walter at all costs, no matter what, not after last time he'd been through there. It just… he couldn't do it, couldn't deal with what it did to him…
Yet every day it got harder. Each morning he wanted to go back through, yearned for it, each night he dreamed about it, convinced that Walter was somehow sending the dreams to him. Slowly he felt like he was losing his mind.
He had spent hours staring next door, hoping, praying that Eileen would be back, something to help him keep sane but she was always missing. No way he was just always picking the wrong time. He didn't even hear her anymore either, was she on holiday? Away with some guy? While he slowly rotted away in this room?
With nothing else to do he ate and drank till there was nothing left but murky tap water. There was no escape, none at all and believe me he'd tried. Every single stupid idea in the book. Then his nights got worse. He heard Walters voice, whispering his name and all manners of unmentionable things. At night he felt his hands, caressing all over, his hot breath against his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Making Henry wake up gasping for breath, drenched in sweat, memories of his last encounter with Walter playing in his head and occasionally with his eyes tricking him into thinking he saw someone leaving through the hole in the wall. Which was preposterous, since nobody else could come or go through.
Two more days, that was all he lasted before he couldn't take it anymore. Oven on high he stuck his head in, only to find that it wasn't working. Pulling out every knife in the apartment, to find them all blunted down, barely sharp enough to cut butter. He looked for mirrors, glass, anything breakable and big enough he could use the sharp shards. But there was nothing. Henry even tried to pull out his shoe laces which wouldn't budge, at all.
Desperate for some kind of release, for some peace and quiet, to get away from himself and memories. Tired, hungry and with nothing else to lose he decided to go through the wall, find a rope and get the job done once and for all.
Literally within minutes of stepping through the wall Henry stumbled upon a sturdy looking rope. Relieved he didn't question the convenience of it, or of the chair and sturdy beam across the ceiling, the only things not decaying in the grey, musty room.
Stepping off that chair, noose around his neck, Walter flashed across his mind and he felt pure relief as gravity worked its magic, pulling him towards the ground… And breaking the rope even as Henry let out a disappointed whine and a slightly crazed laugh he'd recognize anywhere drifted over and wrapped itself around him.
"Aw things just aren't going your way," a soft murmur to the left has Henry turning on his knees, catching a glimpse of Walter before he cast his eyes downwards. He didn't want him to see the moisture gathered in his eyes, not even having the energy to run, to put up a fight. Too fed up even to ignore the slight happiness at seeing Walter again, finally. Too exhausted even for the faint traces of lust, for the stirring in his loins to proper him into running away, at the thought of what had happened last time, the thought of that night, stirring his desire not his fear.
It had been rape. It had. That was all there was to it. Nothing more or less. He hadn't liked it.
"Come on now Henry, we both know it wasn't forced on you, its not rape if you enjoy it as much as you did," Walter whispered right into his ear but when he turned he didn't see him anywhere.
"I didn't enjoy…" Henry protested feebly, just wanting to give in, for it all to end.
"No need to lie Henry, we both saw how hard your cock was, we both saw and felt how much you liked it." It was true. Really and truly. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd ever been as hard or ached for something so much. "I could make it all better," Walter soothed, knowing, finally that Henry was broken, at least partially and now he was going to keep going. Breaking him apart as much as physically and psychologically possible before he finally killed him, granted that he didn't grow bored first.
At these words Henry broke apart, tears dripping down his cheeks as he took big gulping breaths. He believed him. He wanted to believe him and he just didn't have the strength or will power to fight it right now. Walter would never let him kill himself. He'd always be there, behind the scenes, pulling the strings, stopping his death from happening. He couldn't escape, he really had no choice… so he nodded his head weakly.
"What? What are you shaking your head for?" Walter mocked gleefully, eyes raking over Henry, imagining what a fun night they had ahead of them.
"O-okay…" Henry croaked out, on his knees before Walter. After a few minutes of silence he glanced up, seeing Walters quirked brow and flushed, knowing he was going to have to say it all. "Make it all better."
"Ah what's the magic word?" Not even the sing-song quality in his voice made Henry reconsider. "What did we discuss last time?"
"P-p-please… Master." Oh yes a fun night indeed.