You Can't Leave Me
Rating: T
Summary: Horror: "You can never leave me, Fredka," He says sweetly, as he chuckles darkly. His eyes are dark, and my eyes widen. I had never made him this mad. Ivan was beyond mad. Ivan was ready for me to see our wedding bed. RusAme
BrooklynBabbii
As promised, though a bit on the late side, here is the new chapter. :)
It's a journal entry, with significance, and then a POV from Alfred. If you guys like this one as much as I hope you do, then you won't really have much to be disappointed in the future.
This is still rated T.
Chapter Four:
February 14th, 20XX
Dear Awesome (Journal),
Mattie and I made up, and he promised to stay, if I didn't do what I did to make him mad again…I told him I would…But, I didn't really promise, all I said was that I would try to keep him happy…Then, I went and
I messed up. Really bad, I
I found my fake ID in his room, while he was out to class, and….I said I was going out to a friend's to study for a test…I lied to him.
I went out to a bar, and got drunk off my ass. I woke up somewhere else, across town, and I had to run home before Mattie woke up. I told Mattie that me and my friend had gotten carried away from studying and ended up fooling around, and…
I'm sorry, Awesome! I'm a fucking idiot, but I can't…I'm SORRY. Tell Mattie, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry…*
Alfred F. Jones
"Alfred."
Said American's head snapped up, as his heart sped to a near fatal hum, and then almost reluctantly slowed down, as he saw a familiar facial outline in the dark room. The American's voice was almost hoarse, a bit raw, as he struggled to keep silent and raise himself off the ground.
A barely audible whimper of pain, and then a soft whine, as the victim felt a softer hand try to take his wrist to assist him up. At his calls of pain, the hand let go of his wrist and instead, took his hand. This caused Alfred to jerk back with a pained hiss and a bark of agony.
Tears began to well up in his blue eyes – Well, the one that was still working welled up, the other was so black and bruised, and swollen shut, it was a miracle that Alfred could still honestly say he could see out of it.
He gulped, slightly audibly, while he whimpered slightly, using a heavily shaking hand to brush the overgrown bangs from his face. He sighed, the sound shaky, as he spoke through dry, cracked and bloodied lips, "I-Is he go-gone?" The nearly broken American's voice almost sound like it was a broken sob, as he looked at the face in the darkness.
"…Alfred," the voice began, and arms opened. Alfred looked away and down at the ground, trying to move his leg. It pained him, and he gave up. At least, one of his arms were still able to be used to weakly reach out in the dark to put up a hand for the other to stop where he was.
Two of his fingers were broken, and his palm was bloody beneath a torn piece of fabric used to vainly stop the bleeding. It was dirty fabric, and the hand was slightly discolored and swollen, indicating a possible chance of infection, if not bruising with or without inflammation.
"D-don't…T-Toris-s," Alfred managed to sputter, despite having lost a small portion of his tongue due to biting it off with his previous (now-evicted) front teeth. He was lucky that they were his old baby teeth, and that his adult teeth would come soon.
At least, he hoped that they would come.
"You need to get cleaned up," Toris, the voice in the dark identified, said. His own voice was albeit more steady, but carrying a tone of the living dead. Toris may have been seemingly physically healthier, but he was deader inside than Alfred already was.
This, at it was, was quite a statement.
Alfred gradually took his hand down, cradling his arm close, and then replied softly, "Tor-Toris-s…Wh-where is A-Art-thur?"
Toris was silent, and then a shuffling on the ground was heard, as the emotionally-battered man said, "I'm sure that he is still looking for you, Alfred."
Alfred made a choked sound, "D-do you …" And then a hacking sound, as Alfred's body seized and his head bowed and lunged forwards. His hair had grown past his ears, over his neck, and shielded his face from view. It somewhat spared him of the indignity of being seen vomiting up what he had been told to swallow the night before.
"All of it, Fredka, every last single drop of it."
Alfred gagged, as the last few spews left him breathing raggedy, and he made a whimper. "I-I wann-na…be fr-free." A single blue eye looked up in the dark at the gently approaching figure. A small sliver of light made in to reveal the vulgarly half-wrapped face.
It was Toris.
"Alfred…" Toris began, as he used a hand, a hand severed of its middle and thumb. "He can't hold us forever…"
Alfred tried to laugh, barely managed to even utter a scoff over another hack of swallowed disgust. The American looked up at Toris, "Be-because we can't l-leave." He looked away, finally allowing tears to fall from his single eye, "We can ne-ver leave…"
Alfred made another choked sound, and Toris reached out with his disabled hand to brush away Alfred's hair. There was the horrid sight of a dark bruise the size and shape of a large male hand. Toris' eyes widened and Alfred made another sound, and then he looked up to say, "He s-s-ays he's gon-na k-kill me, if-f I le-leave."
Toris didn't say anything, as Alfred continued, "I to-ld him I wanted to see Mattie…" Alfred was openly sobbing again. Shaking his head the best he could with the bruises, he managed to say, "He said that if I left, or even opened my mouth to say anything, that Mattie would never even get to scream…"
Toris was silent, and then he looked away, "Like Kiku…"
Alfred sobbed, "It wa-wasn't my f-fault, all I s-said was –" He clenched his jaw, painfully, as he swallowed spit into his dry throat. "A-all I did was cus-ss him out-t. I to-told him I was going to run aw-away, again, and find so-someone who could k-keep me…"
"Like Kiku," the ex-officer emphasized, and Alfred tried to hide his cough in his arm. The waves of pain still racked his body, and a few droplets of last night still made it past his lips again. Out of a subconscious movement, his bitten and healing tongue licked it off and then, he grimaced.
"You left me once," Toris said, flatly. Alfred nodded, biting his lip with his teeth and bloody gums.
"I d-did…" The American said, as he looked up, "I-I'm so sorry, To-Toris! I didn't th-think he would a-actually t-turn on you! I'm so so-sorry!"
"But you still left," Toris growled, as he seemed like he was getting up, without Alfred. The other reached out, and his fingers managed to find purchase on the ragged officer uniform pants leg.
"I said I was fucking sorry!" Alfred shouted, tears welling up in his anger. He coughed harshly, but continued anyways, "I-I s-s-said I was s-sorry for that, I told hi-him –!"
"Sorry won't fix my damned face!" Toris cried out, as he slapped the hand away, and turned in the dark. Even while Alfred could partially move, Toris could not. A near-fatal break at his spine had made it all possible. He knew for a fact that he might never walk again without some form or kind of treatment on his legs. The nerves were probably dead, for all he knew. "He nearly killed me, because he thought his 'beloved Sunflower' left him! I was nearly killed that night, not you!"
Alfred winced, retracting his hand and cradling it like he was a child who had their hand slapped for stealing from the candy bowl. Toris continued to shriek, "If it hadn't been for all the vodka he drank, after you left, then I would have been dead!"
Alfred looked up, still trying to win the argument with his rage. It was all he had left. Rage: it would be the thing, the fuse, which he needed to finally overcome this battle he was in. "D-do you kn-know how many ti-times I could have b-been the s-s-same?"
"Shut the Hell up, you little whore!" Toris screamed out, in blind rage, as he used his one good hand, though crippled with a poorly healed third-degree burn, to reach across and slap Alfred across the face. The young blonde's face was met with a loud smack!
Alfred made a sound of choking and he spat something out on the ground. Toris continued to vent his rage, "I'm here, because I tried to save your ass! Arthur said you were an innocent caught up with a bad guy!"
Alfred was crying, guilt, hurt and pain doing a number for emotions and state of mind. He just wanted to go home. "I-Ivan…he hurt m-me; that makes him b-bad, he wa-wanted to use me!" his sobs were getting me angry, as he snapped at the ex-officer, "Y-you were su-supposed to protect m-me!"
Toris glared at him, "You sold me out!"
Alfred tried to deny it, though he wouldn't meet the other's eyes, "No, I d-didn't! He broke in! He-He's crazy, mentally fucking insane, he's fucking nuts!" He hid his face with his own good hand, and tried to wipe his eyes and nose. Everything was so messed up. He was the victim, and Ivan his assaulter.
Why couldn't things be easy?
"When he was inside the house," Toris barked, reciting off his memory, "you let him in!" Alfred flinched, and whimpered as he tried to cover his eyes and repeat his denial with greater volume. His voice cracked, and he coughed more, but Toris kept right on, "He didn't break in, there were no signs of forced entry, you let him in! Why? Because he fucking apologized."
There was silence, as Toris shook his head in both disgust and pity. "You helped him beat me…When I was sent to help you."
"He-he beat me too!" Alfred tried, "He hurt m-me for leaving!"
"And that makes it right?" Toris countered, "That makes us even? That undoes that fact that you used a damned pan to down me, when I was trying to corner him? When I was trying to help you?"
"Shut the fuck up!" Alfred screamed, "You don't know anything!" Toris was silent, he didn't make a comment, as Alfred sniffled, and then muttered, "He hurt me… The officers said I could go home, if I told them and made him go away for a long time."
"You filed a complaint," Toris clarified to the other, "And yet, still saw the guy on a regular damned basis." Alfred was on the verge of sobbing again, as he shook his head, and tried to deny it.
Even thought it was true. Toris was right. Alfred wasn't the 'poor victim' that he had thought he had painted himself to be, with Ivan. But Toris knew; he was the only one of the three officers to be spared, because Ivan wanted someone else to make sure that Alfred stayed.
If he left, then Ivan would kill Toris. Toris had a family, a little blonde boyfriend with an adopted daughter from Belgium. Alfred didn't have anyone, his parents and he hadn't been on speaking terms in a long time, and as far as he knew, Mathew hadn't even though to help look for him or put up posters. He hated Alfred too.
They all hated him.
"Did you tell Arthur?" Toris accused, his tone venomous, as Alfred cringed and glared at the floor. "He thinks you're kidnapped!" No one could understand. They weren't even trying. They weren't even trying to understand!
"I-I was kidnapped!" Alfred defended, as he tried to vainly glare back at the other. He took a moment to cough into his hand, and didn't try to bother himself with looking at what he had spat up again. He didn't want to see it. "He took me when I was 16!"
"Because you told him a false age," Toris reprimanded. He didn't care at the moment that he was in a sense defending the very person who had nearly burst his head open on the very floors that he was sitting on. "He doesn't even know your real age. You used an alias, you lied."
There was silence, as Alfred cringed and shook his head once more and then turned his back to Toris. He didn't want to see the truth, the truth that he was wrong. That he was just as guilty as Ivan. "If he finds out," Toris continued, "then you're really dead."
"He hurt me," Alfred tried again, and kept on, "He said he loved me, but he hurt me."
"And you let him," Toris said, flatly, and then added on to spite the other, "For years."
Alfred slapped his hand across the floor, and kicked up a small cloud. He was crying again, as he used his gritty hand to wipe his face once more. "I just – I ju-just wanted for someone not to hate me…" He said, through his sniffles, as he turned back to Toris. "He pro-promised…he said he was sorry, afterwards. It was only this once, and he would never do it again."
His eyes were so wet, so full of guilty tears and pain, but the ex-officer kept right on grilling him over the verbal flame. "But he did."
All of those broken promises, Alfred thought, that I believed, as he nodded.
"And you stayed," Toris said, flatly. Alfred sniffled once more, hugging himself and feeling the bruise on his cheek start to chafe at his dirty jeans. But he still, he managed to nod. He had stayed…
"He said he lo-loved me…" Alfred tried to defend, and he sniffled, as he wiped his face again, "He said I could never leave him either, because he knew I loved him too."
"But he beat you."
"I tried to leave," Alfred said, his voice growing softer and more broken, as he looked away, even though the other couldn't see his tears in the darkness. "He said he loved me. He promised he did. He promised that he wouldn't get mad at me again."
"He didn't keep his promises."
"He said he loved me, damn it," Alfred swore, as he gripped his hair, "He promised." He shook his head, as he said, "You could never understand: He promised. Just like he promised to kill you, if I ever left him now."
Al…you poor baby. :(
Al, victim now or consensual yesterday, you still a ho; Ivan's still a bastard, and Toris grew a pear. :/ (What a way to go, B, I may now jump off a figurative cliff. X.X)
Because a few people thought to pray for Alfred and his well-being, in the last chapter's lovely reviews—
You all were spared of the M-rated content….kinda :3 (Haha, you all are probably pissed at everyone now.) Pffft, I know I would be. I told you guys that I would put you through Hell with this story in the beginning.
I kept my promise~ ;)
READ AND REVIEW!
* sorry…*: A huge hint of what is yet to come. I am going to be pushing some buttons next chapter and then few after it, REALLY HARD. (In fact, I'm going to be pushing a lot of buttons with this entire story.)