The vision faded and the scene switched to a dark, small room. Hugh lay in the center strapped spread-eagle to a bed, his entire body shaking as he whimpered softly. A hollow, chained to the opposite wall, licked his legs and chest longingly as if trying to get a taste of him. Horace felt sick to his stomach when he saw the blood staining Hugh's white shirt. His bees were buzzing uncontrollably in his stomach and Hugh gave out an occasional gasp or moan when one accidentally stung him from their confines inside of him.
"You were so brave to trade yourself for the girl, young one. I'll be sure to inspect you thoroughly," a tall man said, coming out of the shadows. He wore a bloodied apron, had wild grey hair, and had eyes that were milky white. Horace's blood ran cold and he shook his head, backing away and staring at his friend with horror. Th wight stroked the side of Hugh's face possessively before tying a gag over his mouth and pulling a large box out from under the bed.
When the wight opened the box, Horace let out a strangled scream timed perfectly with Hugh's muffled one. The box was filled with rusted, bloody, various instruments of torture. Knives, saws, needles, they were all there. Hugh started to sob through his gag as the wight selected a particularly wicked looking knife with a serrated blade encrusted in the blood of its last few victims.
"Let's open you up, shall we?" the wight hissed, ripping Hugh's fragile shirt from his frame and slowly sinking the blade into his flesh, grinning wickedly. Hugh's eyes widened and he arched off the bed, screaming out in pain. Horace sank the ground, sobbing and clamping his hands over his ears. The wight cut through Hugh's chest and stomach, spraying something into Hugh's bees before scooping them out in handfuls and shoving them into jars. Hugh sobbed, tears of pain and grief streaming down his face. Horace couldn't stop screaming, his lungs empty.
This couldn't be happening, not to Hugh! Not to the boy with the bees that never had an unkind word to say to anyone!
Not to the boy that went out of his way to try to be friends with all of the children in the house, even stoic and grumpy Enoch.
Not the innocent boy that never questioned anything anyone said and believed whatever anyone had to say.
Not the boy that encouraged the younger children and helped them handle their peculiarities.
Not the sweet boy that cried over the death of an insect or a crushed flower.
This couldn't have happened to Hugh!
Hugh had just started to doze off, his eyes heavy and his bees buzzing sleepily in his stomach. it was early in the morning and Horace still hadn't woken up from his slightly fitful but otherwise uneventful slumber. A hoarse scream shook Hugh away and he leaped to his feet, his goggles sliding down his nose from how loose they were. Horace was thrashing in bed, his little body drenched with sweat. Tears were streaming down his face and it was twisted in horror and pain. His blankets were twisted around his legs as he writhed. Hugh's eyes widened and he approached his friend, his brother, and scooped him up in his arms. He sat on the bed and held Horace close, rubbing his back to soothe him and trying to wake him up.
"Horace, it's alright. Wake up now and it'll stop. Come on Horace," Hugh said, his voice cracking slightly as he saw his friend's fitful state. His face was pale and he was still crying, but his eyes slowly opened. "H-Hugh?!" Horace gasped, clinging to the 16-year-old's shirt and refusing to let go, still sobbing hysterically. High's eyes filled with tears as the boy he loved like a brother clung to him like a lifeline and cried, sobbing his very heart out. He continued to rock and rub his back, burying his face in Horace's soft blonde hair and breathing deeply.
"I;m right here, you don't have to be frightened. I'm not going anywhere," Hugh whispered. Horace's tears slowed but he still sobbed softly, burrowing his head in Hugh's chest and nuzzling closer to him. Hugh's grip on Horace tightened ever so slightly and he resisted the urge to cry himself. He needed to keep it together, if only for Horace. The poor lad was traumatized enough as it is.
"What's going on? Is everything alright?" Miss Peregrine said, bursting into the room. She stopped short when she saw the two boys clinging to each other, and her eyes filled with understanding. She settled down next to Hugh and tried to gently pry Horace from his arms, only to be startled by Horace's scream and his sobs to start up again. He clung to Hugh harder, shaking violently.
"D-Don't take me, Miss P! P-Please! I-I... I-I..." Horace choked on a sob and didn't finish his sentence, clinging to the front of Hugh's shirt. Hugh finally let a tear slip and looked up at his mentor with pleading eyes, as if begging her to make the poor boy's suffering come to an end. Miss Peregrine pursed her lips and placed a gentle hand on Horace's head, sweeping his sweaty hair from in front of his eyes.
"Alright, I won't take you, sweetheart. Can you come downstairs if Hugh carries you? Is that alright?" Miss Peregrine asked the sniveling boy. Horace looked up at Hugh with watery eyes and nodded slightly before resting his head on his chest again and letting out a shaky sigh.
