Caution: This chapter does contain mention and threat of rape, and violence against our poor Lydia.
Lydia spun around; jumping away from what was now the most terrifying voice she'd ever heard. Not even the mad poltergeist could scare her this much right now.
Because, even though the voice was behind her, she knew who it belonged to. She knew that the dark shapes closing in around her belonged to him to.
John Matthews.
He leered at her, his perfect white teeth glimmering almost comically in the low street light.
"Back off Matthews."
"Nah see… You got me in deep shit the other day."
His cronies laughed, advancing on her.
No… no this couldn't be happening. She lifted her packages, wondering if she could somehow use them as a weapon, when she heard the faint hissing of the cockroaches.
Betelgeuse…. And for once, she wanted it to be his leer raking obscenely over her curves. At least she could compromise with him, or call his name and send him awa-…
Call his name…
"I asked you a question Lyds."
Lydia snapped, her fury replacing her fear. "Don't fucking call me that! I hate that name!"
The group snickered, and moved around her as they closed in, herding her into the nearby alleyway. Matthews leered at her. "What about 'whore'?"
Lydia spun, barreling over the two goons that tried to block her path. She knew the alley was probably a dead end, but she didn't care. A ladder, an open window, hell, even a grimy old homeless person with a semi-decent heart and a shank could be down this way.
She heard the wide, flat feet pounding after her, the rasping of drunken voices as they called after her. All of her senses were hyper-aware as she ran: she could pick out individual shapes through the piles of trash, hear a rat's frightened squeaks as it scurried behind a dumpster, taste and smell the difference in the air when she passed a regular trash can, and one full of rotten food, feel every crack and uneven plane of cement.
Her mind was racing. Did she call for Betelgeuse, and wonder if he would help her when he came? Or did she just scream for help, and hope against hope someone was there? Betelgeuse, or scream? His rage, or her risk?
She sucked in a deep breath as she ran. "BEETLEJUICE! BEETLEJ-OOF!"
A pair of thick arms wrapped around her body, yanking her back against a rock-hard chest. Déjà vu…
Only this time, the arms were warm and bare, the heart thudded noisily against her back and instead of death and decay, her nose was filled with the scent of expensive cologne. The heavy, intoxicating scent was just as overpowering and nausea-inducing though. One wide hand over her mouth completed the image, and her instinct to fight kicked into overdrive. This time, when she bit down into the fleshy palm, she didn't gag, she tasted warm, coppery blood. And as the hand was pulled from her face, she sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the tears in her eyes, and called for her only hope again. "BEETLEJUICE-!"
"Dammit, shut up bitch! Zach, tape her mouth shut!"
Lydia shook her head, sobbing against the hand that had once again covered her mouth. No… no! If they covered her mouth, she would have no hope. Nothing would save her, would prevent this.
So she brought her foot up behind her, hearing Matthews screech in agony as his hold slipped on her. "BEETLEJUICE!"
Something made contact with the side of her face, knocking her off her feet, but the pain didn't register. Her only thoughts involved her knight in filthy stripes. Please… please Beej… help me…
Time slowed in the Neitherworld. It fluctuated, flowed, slowed, sped up, whatever the hell it wanted to do, because there weren't really nights or days in the Neitherworld. There was no need for time in the Between Land.
Betelgeuse felt the time passing on the Other Side though. He knew when the next morning came, when night dropped, when morning came again. Thursday gone. Friday gone. Saturday. Sunday. Four. Fucking. Days.
And still no call.
"Be-a-tal-juice, mon ami, maybe you should get some air, oui?"
"Bite me."
"Come on Betelgeuse; don't be mean to Jacques just because you woke up on the wrong side of the coffin."
Betel ground his teeth together, gripping onto the sides of the sink as his mind conjured up hundreds of ways to have fun squashing the little pink spider, or maiming the French skeleton. "Why are you idiots in my part of the house anyway?"
His roommates exchanged a pair of raised eyebrows, before Jacques shrugged. "You 'ave been gone so long, Be-a-tal-juice, we were beginning to worry."
Betel snorted. "Right. Whadaya want?"
"Well… what happened? You suddenly up and disappeared, for… years, and now all of a sudden you're back?"
Betel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Go away."
"Oh, mon ami-"
"Get out!"
Ginger sighed, and scuttled up Jacques leg as he turned and hurried from the room.
Betelgeuse snorted, digging into his pockets for any stray beetles. "Neighbors: You know I hate 'em."
He sighed, crossing the floor to drop into his dusty arm chair again, crunching loudly on the beetle. If that little brat didn't call him back soon… What was taking her so long anyway? Yeah, she'd been pissed, maybe afraid, but surely she knew the longer she waited, the worse his rage would be? He would get out, eventually. And if he had to find some other way-
Betelgeuse jerked in his chair, cringing as the sudden fire lanced up his spine.
A summons… no… only part of a summons. There was something behind it though… Urgency, panic…
Hah. Probably that brat. If not her, then the ghouls. Well… let them suffer.
But wait… why would it only be a partial summons if they really needed him? There was something behind that tug, something painful and desperate.
Worrisome. He would make them suffer though, and only appea-
Fuck! Another call. He waited, poised over his seat.
Ahh! There it was. He cringed, his back burning even as he disappeared between the dimensions, and popped into existence near the mouth of an alley at the answer of the agonized call.
"Took ya long enough, ya traitorous little wi-"
"Nooo!"
"Hold her still!"
"Turn on the camera!"
"Stop! Get off! BEETLEJUI-MMMMM!!"
"What's with you? What's a drink gonna help you with, huh Lyds? Or is that your safety word with your pimp?" Panicked sobbing was the only reply. Betelgeuse turned; shock all over his face as ripping sounds filled the alley.
Fuck… how many guys did it take to put down one scrawny little woman? Wait…
Lyds?
Betel snarled, storming forward to yank one of the guys from the pile, throwing him against the alley wall. He didn't pause to enjoy the satisfying sound of the student's spine cracking, instead snapping his fingers.
It was though there had been a small explosion, and Lydia was the bomb. The group was blown away from her, thrown back into the piles of trash as the ghost advanced on the hysterical woman. As the confused group stumbled back to their feet, Betelgeuse leaned over his wife, his eyes scanning the damage.
He felt a fury boil inside him that even her betrayal hadn't matched: these fuckers had touched his property. Broken his toy. These pricks had attacked his little dark-eyed seductress.
And left her bruised, battered, torn and bloody in a heap of trash, probably about to rape her, her mouth taped over so she couldn't call for help.
Red began to seep into his vision, clouding at the center of his eyes before inching towards the outer rim, like burning film. He spun to face the one that he actually recognized, and felt a fresh wave of fury wash over him. Matthews, that was his name, yeah? The one that had groped his Babes in the cafeteria.
"You know fellas…" Betelgeuse let out a short, harsh bark of laughter, shaking his head as he dug in his pockets for a cigarette. Why not savor this? Who knew when the next time he would be allowed to torture someone would come along? "I'm gettin' really fuckin' tired of people messing with my breather here."
That little fuck of a leader had the nerve, the balls to snort at Betelgeuse. The kid took a step forward, sneering at the ghost. "Oh really gramps? You must be that B-J guy she kept crying for. Guess her pimp really did come to save her. Too bad you're outnumbered old man."
Gramps? Old man? Betelgeuse snarled, and snapped his fingers, lighting the end of his smoke. The group jumped back in shock, looking to their leader for guidance, but he stood his ground, positive it was just some sort of trick to try and scare them. "Who the fuck're you callin' gramps, ya little shit?" Betelgeuse glanced sideways at one of the goons, trying to act all brave and jump him from behind. "Tch… Outnumbered, maybe. Hardly outmatched though." The poltergeist leered at Matthews, lifting his right hand, folding down all but his middle finger and thumb. "These right here? All I need to smoke you and your puppy dogs."
Matthews let out a great, whooping laugh, and the rest of the guys caught on. They kept shooting nervous glances between Betel and Matthews though, clearly unsure of themselves. "What, gramps? One finger not enough?"
"Course not. Ya need a thumb and a finger ta snap, dumbass."
"Beej…"
Betel jumped a little, turning as a small hand caught his pants leg. For the first time since entering the alley, he actually felt a little worry laced through the rage. Her voice was so weak… He needed her alive, he needed out of the Neitherworld. He wondered breifly where the duct tape had gone too, until he saw her other hand clenched tightly around the dark gray strip.
The poltergeist threw a dirty look Matthews's way, before bending and scooping up the broken girl bridal-style. "Yeah Babes?"
She surprised him as she lay there in his arms, rolling her face against his chest and wrapping one small fist in the lapels of his jacket. "Can't kill them…"
Everyone paused, shocked by the statement, but all for different reasons. Matthews's cronies shocked because getting killed wasn't part of the deal, Matthews because he wondered how she could believe this one, smelly old man could take down a whole group of muscle-heads like them, and Betel because he thought she would want them dead after attacking her. "Whatcha talkin' about Babes? Do you have any idea what they were gonna do ta you?"
She nodded against his chest, closing her eyes. "You kill them… the cops will investigate… might look at me… can't kill them…"
Betel sighed, and one corner of his mouth pulled down in a thoughtful grimace. "I can't even kick'em around a bit, and erase their memories?"
"Go ahead…"
Betel's brows flew up his forehead. Sweet… innocent little Lydia Deetz, protector of all things ghostly and irritating… was giving him the go-ahead to torture a few punks? He grinned.
Well alright then. "Aww thanks Babes, what a great gift. Gonna set ya down for a minute, kay?"
She nodded weakly, and he turned to set her propped up against the wall, before turning to his audience. "Alright, who wants to go first?" He snapped his fingers as two boys turned, ready to flee the scene, and the entire alley was covered in a dark bubble. All the boys began to panic, flying at the dark walls and beating their fists against them in an attempt to break through.
Geeze these guys really were stupid. But Betelgeuse had eyes only for their moronic leader, standing there with shock, and finally fear all over his face. "Wh… what…?"
Betelgeuse held his arms out in front of him, lacing his fingers together and pushing outward. His knuckles popped with a very loud, satisfying crack, and he rolled his neck and shoulders, receiving the same reward. "I ain't her pimp, kid. And, since I'm sure your tiny little brain hasn't figured it out yet, I'm not exactly like…" Betelgeuse gave the trembling man a wide-eyed, toothy grin as he took a few menacing steps forward. "All human and stuff. Lyds is my… fiancée I guess, since we haven't… officially finished the ceremony. My ticket outta the afterlife, ya know?" He popped his neck again, and took a drag on his cigarette, still leering at his helpless, trembling victim.
"It's Showtime!"
This can't be happening! Please! Please Beej please help me! I'm so sorry, so sorry Beej! Please help me! Maybe her thoughts and her screams melted together, but after she was against the ground, she lost all sense but fear. There were so many hands, so many voices, but the only one she could pick out was Matthews, and she couldn't comprehend his words. She felt herself being held down, felt herself fall victim to harsh, stinging palms, heavy, bruising fists and worst of all, the cold, groping fingers as they tore at her clothes.
She wasn't sure when it stopped, or how long the silence lasted. Her mind had gone blank, so prepared as she was to die at their hands once they finished with her.
She never loved the sound of fingernails scraping against a chalkboard more than she did now. For that was the only way to describe her savior's voice.
He'd heard her call… come to save her. His words were slow in registering with her, even as she clung to them. Maybe he hadn't said anything at all, and she was just imagining the conversation, or imagining that he was there even. But she clung to the hope, and reached out to grasp some part of it. "Beej…"
When has she been picked up from the ground? Or was this the weightless feeling of death Barbara had once tried to explain to her, once she'd remembered the accident? "Yeah Babes?"
Gods, she hated that name, but at the moment she clung to that too, letting the word repeat over and over again in her mind, accompanied by his obnoxious voice. She'd insisted that he couldn't kill them, and oh how he wanted to. She wanted them dead as well, the bastards. But she'd known, or figured, she might be suspected if they were found dead.
She and Matthews had too long a history. So instead, she would let him hurt the bastards, as long as they wouldn't remember anything.
Then, the protective circle of arms was gone, and she was once again cold against the cement wall and filthy ground. Had she imagined everything? She felt a sharp pain in her side, and touched it briefly, feeling the warm, wet stickiness that was blooming through her shirt. Had they killed her? Thrown her aside after their 'fun'? Oh well… at least she couldn't remember the attack. She had that dream to die on.
But if she was dead, why was screaming all she could hear? Adam hadn't said anything about screaming, except theirs during the accident. Not even on the passage to the Waiting Room. The only screaming they'd known had been in the Lost Souls room. Was Lydia heading there? No… couldn't be. Was she going to hell? She couldn't understand why that would be the case… So she sat there, listening to the screaming and wondering, every once in a while catching a manic cackle that could very well belong to the devil through the agonizing yells.
"Babes?"
Oh… that voice… had he come to collect her, now that she was dead? Just to have her and be able to exact some sort of revenge? Even if she wasn't his free pass anymore, surely he would still want a little payback…
"Babes! Hel~loooo! Open your eyes!"
Open her… eyes? But Beej… She thought. I don't think I have a body anymore… I can't feel it…
"C'mon kid, you're killin' me here. I know ya ain't asleep. C'mon! HELLO!" She felt something touch her cheek, felt a warm, almost painful sensation from the touch, even though it had been feather soft.
Lydia frowned. She had once dreamed of death, had once wanted so badly to be a part of it… and now she wasn't so sure… this death was… was wrong. She wanted what the Maitlands had… she wanted that... freedom, that weightless happiness they had... Not this repeated stinging on her cheek, or the sudden pain returning to her ribcage… Even being chained to Betelgeuse's side for all eternity probably would be better than this….
"Lydia Deetz, open your eyes and answer me or it'll be my hand down your pants!"
There was a sharper, heavier sensation on her cheek this time, and she felt something cool touch the other cheek. Lydia wanted to frown. If her face hurt… surely she could frown? She wanted to itch her cheek too, and find out what was hitting her. She slowly became aware of a familiar stench filling her nose, and felt her nostrils twitch in irritation.
"Lyds, Babes… c'mon… please wake up… just enough to say those magic B-words again. Then I'll get you outta here, get you some help. C'mon now…"
"B… Beetle…juice…" She still had a voice! It rang in her ears, heavy with weakness and pain, and still so quiet she still couldn't be sure if she was imagining it or not.
"Yeah! That's it kid, say it again!"
"B-Be… Beetlej-jui-ce…" It hurt… so much… Just leave me… let me die…
"One more time Babes, c'mon, just once more!"
"Bee…Beetle… Beetlejuice!"
She became aware of a painful pressure around her, embracing her so tight she could hardly breathe. She was grateful for it though: if that vice hadn't been around her, she was sure she would have been ripped to shreds.
Was it like this for the ghosts too? This transition? Somehow… she figured she was still alive. And she figured that… for some reason… He was taking her to the Neitherworld.
The agonizing tearing was cut off, and instead she felt something soft beneath her back, and something heavy and warm draped over her body.
"JACQUES! GINGER!" The grating voice was further away than she wanted it, and still too loud. She wanted to yell at him to be quiet, to save her pounding head…
But even that was quickly dying down. She could still feel the stab wound in her side, still feel it throb, but the pain was numbed.
For now.
"Betel…"
"It's alright Babes. Just lie still."
"…Kay…"
"Be-a-tal-juice! What is zis? 'Oo is she?!" A… French accent? Who did that belong to? What would a Frenchman be doing around the ghost with the most?
"What happened?!" This voice was softer, sweeter, and feminine. Where the hell was she?
Lydia forced one eye open, whimpering from the effort it took, and tried to see through the haze over her vision. The only she could make out though, was the black stripes and the shocking emerald fire that was so familiar. "Beej…"
"Shut up Lydia, alright? Just lay still we have to… shit… Ginger, what do I do?"
Betelgeuse… was asking someone for help? Damn… She must be worse than she thought…
"Um… well you have to close her side up first, or she's going to bleed to death."
"Oh, and how the fuck do you propose I do that? I can't heal people!"
"Sew it up?"
"Give me some thread then. Jacques?"
"'Ere, it should work… it is clean at least."
"Get me a towel too."
These things didn't make any sense to Lydia, and she was so close to just giving up and closing her eyes again. But there was suddenly a hot feeling on her skin, and the place where she knew the injury to be was on fire. "AHHH!"
"Shh, easy kid. Jacques, hold her down."
"Oui. 'Oo is she anyway?"
"The reason I've been gone."
"I meant 'er name."
"Lydia."
Lydia couldn't stop herself as two hands came down on her shoulders, forcing her to hold still against whatever surface she was on: one hand shot up, wrapping around something hard, thin and cold. "It hurts… make it stop!" She sobbed.
The hard, bony hands gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze as someone else continued to burn her side. "Ee-zey, Mizz Lydia. Do not worry; Ginger will be 'ere soon, oui? And zen we will fix you up good as new."
Lydia sobbed, grasping the object, whatever it was even tighter. "Betel…"
"'E is right 'ere."
"Quit talking to her! Lydia, you have to hold still and relax!"
The goth cried out, trying to squirm from whatever was restraining her, to escape this burning, but she was held fast in place.
"Here, thread!"
"Bought fuckin' time. Help Jacques hold her down."
And then a whole new pain was lancing her side. She was sure she'd never screamed so loud in her life. "Stop! Please! It hurts!"
"Shhh… Ee-zey mizz Lydia, it is almost done… shh…"
"Hold her still!"
Lydia slipped in and out of the darkness as she lay there, wishing that she really was dead. Why did this hurt so much? Why? She screamed in anger, and fear, and pain and swore and cried and begged, and finally, there was something cold against her tortured side. It made her skin tingle and itch, but soothed the raging burn.
"There… I think that'll work… At least for right now. Lydia? Lyds! Can you hear me?"
"B-..Betel…"
"Yeah kid, I'm right here. Get some sleep now, kay? C'mon, help me move her into the other room."
I didn't actually plan on bringing Jacques and Ginger in this early but… I decided I would. Even Betelgeuse needs some friends. And who better than his two silly roommates?
Whoot, I just like, totally outlined the final climactic scene for this story, and I gotta tell you, I think it's going to be some of my best work. =D I'm all eager and stuff, but there's a lot more to give before we get to that point.
Also, don't like, hate me and all that for this chapter please? It had to happen, and you know it. =P
Anyway, I'm having a ton-o-fun writing this, so I hope you guys keep enjoying and reviewing, and tell me if you don't like something, or want to see something else.
