A.N

Heh, it's been a hectic few months. So despite me saying this would be updated nearly two months ago, I could rarely find the time or motivation to write.

I have been accepted into university to study creative writing and English, which I'm moving countries to do next year, scary stuff.

Also, if you wish to message me to ask about updates, please feel free to do so on here or on my tumblr account, which is where I often frequent. (Url is on my profile page)

Please enjoy the update and leave a review, tell me what you think!


Matt

Muffled cries of pain echoed down the corridor like a sadistic melody. I clamped my hands over my ears and pressed my head against the concrete floor, the cool smooth surface soothing away any worries that I was carrying. He deserved the pain he was receiving. If he had just shut up he would've been fine, but now he would be forced to hold his tongue lest the cotton threads tear open his lips even more and stain them a beautiful shade of scarlet.

In retrospect having just cotton thread to hold the lips together was a rather pitiful idea, after all cotton is thin, delicate, it snaps with ease if you apply minor force to it. However this cotton was engineered for this purpose, small threads of steel were wound into it. Threads of steel so thin they could only just be seen by the human eye. If you tried to snap them they would just gouge holes in your lips instead.

Mello stumbled back into the room, his shoulder being pushed by a large olive skinned man with oily black hair. Mello caught his foot on the thick plush rug and stumbled to the floor, whimpering in pain as he tried to open his mouth to yelp in surprise. Dried blood was flecked around the holes in his lips as he rolled over onto his back and inflamed skin circled each wound, throbbing with a dull heat.

I simply stared at him for a moment, straightening my back as the man strode past me in complete comfort and called Boss man's name. They spoke in hushed tones that my ears couldn't decipher into words, the Man glancing at both me and Blondie with his small piggy eyes. He made a threatening gesture in my direction when he caught me looking and I snapped my head to gaze firmly at the wall.

Mello had ceased his movements and was sprawled across the floor, eyes closed and breathing evenly. Boss Man stepped over him as he let out his henchman and followed him out of the room, locking the heavy door behind himself. As his footsteps faded out of earshot, Mello sprang to his feet and began rummaging around in Boss Man's desk. He tossed books aside, scattering the floor with paper before he held up a biro pen in front of himself, the corners of his mouth twitching into what could be mistaken for a smile.

Removing the plastic tubing, he clasped in the ink filled piece of plastic and rubbed the pointed tip against the thread in his mouth, the thread starting to fray a little after a few minutes. Mello's lips were stained a dark blue as the ink leaked out of the tube and coated his lips and chin. It must've tasted disgusting but he didn't slow down, or even pull a face as it crept into his mouth. Unfortunately he seemed unaware of the fact that the strings were reinforced for a reason just like this and despite the cotton pieces fraying and pinging apart, his mouth remained firmly held shut.

He kept rubbing the pen harder in some fruitless effort to prise his mouth apart, only stopping to give me a vicious glare when I made a noise of annoyance. His inky blue fingers were staining the floor where he kept moving to get a better angle and god forbid I wake up in the morning and look like I had turned into a smurf. I moved to the other side of the room. I didn't want to be told that this was partly my fault, and as a result, punished for it. This one was all on Blondie and I would have no part in it. I curled up next to the plush leather chair and tried to sleep, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. Was guilt even contagious? Maybe I was only feeling it because Mello wasn't, even so, I simply curled up tighter and kept my head down.

From the corner of my eye I could see a glass tube which held all of Boss Man's cigars. Long fat rolls of fine tobacco sealed in brown paper and plastic to keep them fresh. Boss Man often smoked them when my head was in his lap, curls of smoke escaping from between his lips as his thick fingers wound their way into my hair. The clump of ash would float down towards the small crystal bowl which he stubbed his cigars out in. It was more often then not overflowing with ash, a fifth or so of the cigar having been mashed into the bowl to extinguish the life from the delicate embers which burned away at the tobacco at his request.

Mello would come to know Boss Man's mannerisms well, they would become a part of him. A terrible twisted part that would begin to rot his brain just like it had mine, how I had began to find these qualities endearing. How I looked forward to Boss Man's resigned sigh as he kicked his boots off into a corner and fell into the leather chair, the air wheezing out from the overstuffed cushion. I looked forward to him calling me over and the almost tender way he would run a grimy finger down my naked back before he would wash away the dirt on his hands in the wash basin.

But, just like life, Mello would have to feel and accept the pain that he was given. He would bite his thumb at it when the pain came and like a defiant child, dare for more, only to beg for mercy when the pain would begin to swallow him whole. When it would drain every last drop of his humanity without remorse. Only then would he feel the euphoria he had earned.