In high school, Graham was a legend.
His father moved him to the States when he was 15. He was a natural athlete, jumped right into American football (Ridiculous name, that. Ridiculous sport, too, but the ladies seem to love it, so who was he to deny them his body in a football uniform?).
He was popular. People mistook his accent for intelligence, and they consulted him on nearly everything.
Graham was important.
He mattered.
He always heard stories of people peaking too soon, of their best years being high school, but he never quite thought it would happen to him.
Hell, his halloween costume is literally his high school letterman jacket. He now has a low level job at a chemical company instead of being an actor or sports model like he always assume he would be.
He peaked too soon.
This is what swirls through his mind as he comes to, waves of consciousness.
He doesn't know this room….not sure where he is. It's dark outside. The floors and walls are cement, not a window to be seen. It smells musty, like a basement, perhaps. His arms are bound, but his legs are not, and he's free to walk around in the pitch blackness.
High school Graham would have a way out of this room.
But Present Graham has no idea what to do.
In high school, what would he do? He'd use his charm, and his strength, his agility….
Charm first.
"Hello?" he asks, calling out to the darkness. "Whoever you are, whatever you want, I will help you!"
He's been spared, after all. The rest were killed right away but he's been kept prisoner.
By god, his mother was right all along.
There's something quite special about him.
"Thank you for not killing me," Graham says, as he walks around the solid walls of his little prison. "I can't help but think you… want something from me. Something the others...couldn't provide?"
"Indeed," an all too familiar voice hisses from behind. He tries to turn around, tries to defend himself, but his arms are tied, and he's still weak from whatever he was drugged with before. And that rag goes back near his mouth, not enough to make him lose consciousness, but enough to where he's seeing stars and can barely fight.
He can't believe…. He never would have suspected the killer to be…
"We can't all escape our pasts, Graham," the voice says, ever more confident. Someone strong is grabbing him from behind, reaching inside his jeans and grabbing at underwear.
Oh god, of course he's been spared. His good looks have got him into trouble again. His dignity is about to be taken, and this isn't fair, not at all —
But instead of yanking his briefs down, the killer is yanking them up….up…
Pain sears through his lower parts as the wedgie does exactly what its name suggests his parts wedging tightly in places he'd rather them not.
"Uncle!" He cries out, because well, it's worth a shot, right? That's what they like to say in the states when you've had enough, isn't it?
But the killer does not play by the rules of uncle. And somehow that underwear is rising to a criminal level...can it actually go over his head? He's trying to fight, but his body just...won't work. He is paralyzed.
He hears his underwear ripping, cannot believe when he feels the partially ripped waist band sliding from the top of his head down his face, catching on his neck. The fabric digs in so hard, something snaps inside his throat, and he can't breathe, can't swallow, can't cry out.
He thought it was just an urban legend; that an atomic wedgie can kill.
It's not, it seems, because he's nearly out of oxygen.
The last thought that warms his heart is that at least people will be speaking of him and his tragic, unusual death for decades to come.
Graham is a legend.
.::.
It's a shame they can't see this masterpiece, because what has been done to Graham was truly spectacular. And so fitting.
But well, they are so intent on sticking together, those little assholes.
So displaying the body for them to shriek and cry over will be difficult. Especially figuring out a way to do so before the next planned murder.
It's such a shame. Perhaps he can be put on display somewhere, before the last one is killed.
Who will be the last one? You'd think it would have been Gold. The man certainly seems like a survivor, doesn't he?
Maybe it will be Regina. She has a certain air of resilience that is….admirable, if nothing else.
But now is not time to think of what is to come. Now is time to get stuff done.
The intercom will have to do for this death announcement.
The three remaining victims need to know Graham is gone.
The words are clear, loud and crisp over the intercom,
10 DOWN, 3 TO GO