~ Chapter Ten ~
Monster
I Have A Name,
But I've Been Changed.
And Now, I Can't Stay the Same.
The End Is Where We Begin.
Where Broken Hearts Mend
And Start to Beat Again.
Like Angels Singing With A Million Voices…
~The End Is Where We Begin, by Thousand Foot Krutch
Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.
"And I do not wish to see your pretty brown eyes, either, or else there will be a great deal of pain in your future." There was a small pause, quickly followed by the grating sound of wooden table legs roughly scratching against the cement floor – moving closer and closer and closer to him. "Understood?"
Oh, shit. The young man mentally reviewed those words, before it occurred to him that his captor had barely concealed the threat – and the nasty promise – within those words. One only had to read between the lines to figure that this man was about to torture him to within an inch of his life. And then…
Eric Wilkerson was going to kill him.
Time slowly faded into nothingness, as though the billions of stars in the night sky had fallen from the Heavens and down to the ground below, like tears trickling down his pale cheeks. And Spencer could feel them brushing against his ghostly pale skin, too. Those beautiful stars were gently slipping down his forehead and along the side of his swollen face, leaving trails of blue fire in their wake. Slender fingers twitched, and he attempted to reach upwards to wipe the stardust from their perch at the end of his long, black lashes.
Brown eyes opened hesitantly, his lashes fluttering in an attempt to clear the burning stardust from his gaze, which flickered briefly against the bright light surrounding his broken form. The Angels spread broken wings in the shadows of the Pearly Gates and giggled with happiness, their melodious voices calling him back home, home, home. Come home!
He blinked twice in quick succession, stiffened, and bit back hysterical laughter at the imagery that awaited his (much too) curious gaze. Beautiful Angels had metamorphosed, shedding their white sundresses and donning horns, black leather, and whips. Sirens shrieked, flashing fangs of crystal white, and darted towards his naked form. Restraints – or rather, whips – were wrapped around his bruised wrists and ankles, binding him to the linoleum table with ease. Teeth buried themselves deep within the tight muscles of his thin neck, feasting upon rich, crimson blood and crunching bones between aching jaws. Claws harshly ripped his thighs apart, parting the shaking limbs and revealing every inch of him to the world.
This was…
Hell.
"Ah, I did not think that you would awaken again, my sweet Sleeping Beauty," Eric Wilkerson purred softly, and his honey sweet voice unceremoniously ripped the brunette from his horrid nightmares.
No response was made on the part of the young genius, because he had been shocked to realize that this ma was slowly touching him, running fingers, hands, and tongue up and down his chest and lower stomach. Ten thick fingers traced the shallow dents of his hip bones, paused, and then circled his belly button, before twisting themselves around and around his naked manhood. Like Black Widows weaving a web of lies and endless pain.
Why, then, did this feel so goddamn good?
Confused, Spencer sobbed against the cloth still resting in between his lips, those rusty feelings of shame and disgust and regret rushing to the surface in an eruption of release. And God! He wanted to rip all of these chains from his chest, spread his white wings, and fly into the golden sunset with his sweet Angels at his side. Once Upon A Time, Happily Ever After, The End.
"I missed this – the love and blood, I mean. The pain," Eric murmured, with his fingers wrapped tightly around the black handle of the horse whip dangling from his hands. He smiled gently at the frightened glow of those brown eyes, so very similar to – "Am I right, Jared Black?"
Jared. Black. Jared Black. Those two small words, spoken in a single, desperate breath, sounded to him like the tormented screams of the Damned, thrusting their claws into the chests of their foes without mercy or care. The Archangels were vanquished, then, their holy swords of light falling to the ground with the thunder of metal and shattering glass. Spencer stared blankly into the cloud of dust and debris left in the wake of their death. His Angels, Aaron and Derek, had been the figments of his overactive imagination, it seemed. Neither of them truly existed.
And God did not exist, either.
He was all alone…
Faster than a strike of lightning, Eric lost every ounce of his control, and snapped into another personality entirely – from benign to bloodthirsty. The blonde male slapped him across the face and angrily roared, "Do I look like the merciful type?"
For once in his short life, Spencer did not know the answer, and to a seemingly simple question, too. This simple question was actually hypothetical, however, and the genius was spared the humiliation of stupidly stuttering dozens of literary quotes and mathematical facts to hide this horrifying shortcoming. Statistics had always been his forte, after all. Being unable to recite them, verbatim, in response to this question made him the disgrace. Not Eric. Never.
Indeed, Eric the Enraged ignored all of his own shortcomings and began beating his fists against the thin chest of his captive, once, twice, thrice, and into infinity. Aaron, Derek, Aaron, Derek, Aaron, Derek. Spencer sighed softly at his failure and, in repentance, willingly accepted the reprimand. The brutal beating…
Heavy hands, like that of Atlas, beat a steady rhythm against his broken ribcage. Blood spurted from between his parted lips, and hot breath bathed his face in a wave of heat and hatred, making it difficult to breathe. Medusa ripped through his tender skin with razor sharp claws. One rough finger, covered in cobwebs and laced with poison, slowly slipped between his parted legs and towards his entrance. Spencer jerked backwards at this foreign touch and began thrashing wildly, pulling at the chains and kicking his skinny legs against the table. He screamed.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no…!
Blue eyes glittered with barely concealed pity, the only sign of the empathetic human that existed beneath the surface of this monstrous creature. A flash of realization, and then, Eric returned to normal – well, his normal, anyway. "Answer the question, you stupid bitch, slut, whore!"
In response, Spencer whimpered quietly to himself and shifted his form to the left, closer to the pink plastered wall and farther from this monster with blonde hair and blue eyes. Mere inches separated his trembling form from that of his captor, the Fallen Angel with horns and endless wings of midnight black scales. And Spencer could not help but fervently wish that this space would magically become yards, miles, and kilometers.
The Devil smiled tightly, baring his perfect teeth in a smile that promised nothing but broken bones, bruised skin, and red blood painting the walls around them. Leonardo Da Vinci, Georgia O' Keefe, and Vincent Van Gogh would stand alongside his teammates and brush their trembling hands over a work of true art, this deadly masterpiece created with human flesh and blood. All would examine a crime scene, a mystery, and the final resting place of Doctor Spencer Reid, marred by white lines and yellow police tape. CRIME SCENE. DO NOT CROSS. HA, HA, FUCKING HA!
Inches, Yards, Miles, Kilometers. Inhale and Exhale. Inches, Yards, Miles, and Kilometers.
"Do you really think that I have forgiven you?" Eric continued to curse and rant and bellow his questions, one after the other, and the night was stained with his jealous rage. Green, black, and red.
Spencer, in a small fit of insanity, opened his mouth and stupidly responded, "No." His pink lips twisted into that small, knowing smirk of the smug genius within. "And I doubt that you ever will, either."
Beyond pissed, Eric cracked the leather whip against the soft flesh of his lower belly, just above his groin. "You, Jacob Black, are the man that made love to me with such tenderness, and then threw me away, like garbage, filth, waste." He gritted his teeth against the onslaught of tears. "You returned to my miserable daughter at her beck and call!"
This love story was one of beautiful clichés, and it was older than time itself, too. Love and hate, benevolence and jealousy, man and woman. Every detail poured from within the blackened soul of this lovelorn man, whispering to the wind this story of discovery, affairs, and betrayal. And Spencer, though lost in a whirlwind of emotions, listened with rapture to this strange tale of Romeo and Juliet. Perhaps Hamlet and Ophelia. Or…
…Beauty and the Beast?
In the last decade, Jared Black had married his wife, Lindsay, and the two of them had three beautiful children together, one of which was named after his father. Several years passed and the family was still happy. Jared, however, came to the realization that his love for his wife was not romantic in nature; it had become brotherly, instead.
Spencer could not help but laugh in amazement as each of the final pieces was dropped into place. These simple words, though spoken in anger, began haphazardly filling the empty holes in a puzzle of twists and turns that his brilliant mind had not been able to create with facts, data, and statistics alone. Countless questions were answered, then, and the brunette could only close his tawny eyes, cursing the brilliance that overshadowed his common sense. Ignorance was bliss. And Spencer had wanted to believe that his friend had been forced to feel such pain.
Poor Lindsay…
Jared had gathered the courage to speak of the matter with her father, Eric. Instead of being angry and disgusted with his homosexual son-in-law, however, Eric smiled at his good fortune and seduced the handsome marine. The two became lovers, until the point in time that Lindsay realized the nature of the relationship between her father and husband. She threatened Jared with divorce should he not return to her side that instant and repent his sins in the eyes of their Holy Father. Ever the faithful Catholic, Jared complied with her wishes and broke the relationship with his lover. The End.
Eric Wilkerson, as expected, was absolutely furious with the cowardice of his lover, a son to him through this marriage to his daughter. He could not see passed this betrayal lured the younger male to his ranch, their sanctuary and the start of it all. This, too, was where it ended…
That fateful day of betrayal, despair, and murder had occurred two weeks ago, and the death of the strong marine was staged to appear as a car accident to fool his wife, his three children, and the (nosy, much too nosy) authorities. In all actuality, however, Jared Black died at the hands of this monster, bloodied and broken and bruised by countless horse whips, all borrowed from the stables behind the country style house. Treated like an animal. Murdered.
Fifteen bodies later, and Eric Wilkerson was still ranting and raving about that cowardly traitor – and mourning the loss of his lover, as well. He sought his lookalike in the faces of hundreds of nameless strangers, brunette, young, and tall. Wings of black fire were unfurled, hiding the demon lurking beneath the smiling face of the handsome man.
Fifteen innocent men were seduced and lured to that ranch, that house, and their sanctuary of love and affection. Blue eyes were wide with the realization that none were who he wanted them to be. Furious, Eric tortured each of these trespassers, slitting their delicate throats, gutting them and brutally removing a section of their genitals. He severed their left index fingers from their bodies, secretly treasuring the dirty golden rings left in the wake of their traitorous betrayal. Fifteen golden rings glittered against the bare skin of the monster with blue eyes. Fifteen.
Spencer Reid.
Sixteen…
***Author's Note***
Hello! I would like to apologize for my lengthy absence from FF, but there was a death in the family. My cousin, a smart and talented young woman, died in a car accident. It left me confused, depressed, and, well, kinda empty inside. :(
I did not feel like writing again until just recently, which is why I updated my other story, Picking Up The Pieces. Now, I am updating the rest of 'em! Two down, and two to go! ^^; Ha, ha, ha...
Anyway, I would love to hear from everyone again. And I will certainly respond to all previous reviews momentarily! May I kindly ask for about 80 reviews, then? Because I did decide to up the rating to M and add lemons later in this story. I think that I deserve some reviews for that! Or at least a cookie... ;)