A/N: This is dark fic, which came out of twisted inspiration.
Disclaimer: I do not own Jeff and Matt Hardy, or any of the other WWE characters mentioned in this fic. They belong to themselves or to the WWE. I own Rabbit, Hawk, and Wolf. The song used in this fic is "Sunburn," written by Carl Bell, and performed by the band Fuel, off the album "Sunburn."
Warnings: violence, disturbing emotions, language
Rating: R
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I Cursed the Sky and Begged the Sun
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Though his mouth moved, I could not hear a word that came from his lips. The mute button was on in this horrible cable show. This had to be just TV. It couldn't be anything else. There was no possible way this could be real . . . he couldn't be standing in front of me, saying these words, making these threats. It was not conceivable that I should be here right now, strapped to this chair, gazing up at him saying things I couldn't hear.
/Though the sky was dark this morning
Not a bird in the trees/
One word came to me first, one word garbled like some radio without a transponder. The echoing of the gun in my mind must have finally worn off. It must have been hours ago.
I felt fear pulse up through me with every word that I heard.
"We've contacted your family," he said, a sickening smile twisting his mouth. "It shouldn't take them too long to realize you're gone. They probably just think you're off somewhere in your own little world. That's how it always is, though, isn't Jeffrey? You're never really there. You're too lost in your music, too lost in your own passion to realize there are others who care about you."
I trembled, trembled against the ropes that bound my hands and trapped me to the rickety wooden chair. I wanted desperately to say something, desperately to beg him to let me leave, but the tape wrapped around my mouth prevented any sound. I would give him anything he wanted. I just wanted to be out of here, out of this little room that was dark and creaked. I just wanted to be out. I wouldn't tell the police, I just wanted to get out of here, I wouldn't tell the police everything that had happened.
What had happened? My head ached. I could barely remember what had brought me here in the first place.
/Silence hung suspicious and anxious
Like a blanket covered scream/
Matt.
This was where this had started. My brother was the root of this.
Arguments happened between us all the time now, with my waning love of wrestling and his renewed vigor in becoming the best of the best at it. When he saw me tense before a show, when I could barely breathe for the pain I felt inside, he became angry. He was always angry now, when he saw me. I was like something dark, something that stood for loss. I had become a lamb in a sacrifice because I had lost my love of wrestling.
"What do you think, Jeff?" he'd shouted. "Don't you realize what talent you have? You're throwing it all away!"
I blistered back at him, per usual, with my "You don't understand me, you never will, so stop trying" spiel.
Usually it worked on him, usually it left him thawed and tired and worn out. He never retaliated back at me, would shake his head mutely and angrily, and leave me alone to contemplate his own feelings. I would stand in the middle of the room when he left, dismayed, pained, wishing that I could somehow get away from here, that I could suffocate somewhere and not have to deal with this.
Usually he would walk away and not return until after midnight. Our friendship would be hastily repaired with glue and paper, and we would be okay again. We would talk and we would sit and we would act like there wasn't a serpent's egg incubating between us. He was my older brother and I loved him as such, I wanted to please him with my choices, but when we fought, when we argued and bitterly spat at each other, he would walk away. It hurt most of all, his walking away from our arguments as though I wasn't worthy of listening to his thorough opinion.
Not this time.
/You were gone
You were not there for me/
"Or maybe they don't care about you."
In the splayed moonlight I could see his mouth lift slowly into a smirk. He passed the dagger he held through his fingers, flipping it slowly through the spaces between each digit. Half his face fell passed into shadow as he leaned back, presumably against a wall. I could not even start to guess where I was. Through the one window streamed the moonlight, and to another side there stood the faintest outline of a door. But other than the moonlight illuminating the cobbled floor, and the man standing in half the light, there was nothing to discern by. There was nothing to paint a picture of what awaited me.
"Maybe you're nothing at all to them. Maybe they'll be glad to be rid of you. All your fights with your brother, the agony of the decision you make, all the backstabbing and bitterness that goes on behind the curtain . . . it all comes back to you, most of it. Wouldn't you like to live a perfect life with no faults and no pain? Maybe that's why they've abandoned you. Maybe that's why you're here with me now. Because your friends realize that no matter what, you've only caused them heartbreak."
His words glanced off me, shallow blows. Isn't that what most of the torture in movies was about? Intimidation? Well, I wasn't going to be intimidated. I wasn't going to fall after these words came again and again. I would not succumb to the fear that was intended by the words.
Instead, I would succumb to the fear of what would happen if I was not found.
/And I cursed the sky
And begged the sun/
"Jeff!" Matt yelled. "I'm sick of your speech! It's the same one over and over again! And it's not just about you anymore! It's not just about what you feel, what you believe . . . it's not just about you wanting to go and leave all this forever. It's not just about that. It's not just about you."
"It's my life," I replied stubbornly.
"Your life, and who have you touched with it?" The anger mixed with dry laughter. "You may be tired of this, tired of all of it, but it's not just your life anymore. You walked into this and every night you have given a part of yourself back to those who admire you. Those who stand in lines in the cold and pouring rain to see you. Those who dream that they could be you."
"Then maybe it's time for them to find a new person to worship!" I leapt from my seat angrily. "Maybe they can worship you now, Matt!"
"It's not about me, Jeff! It's not about you! It's about them. They're the ones who have made you what you are, they're the ones who have defined every part of your life . . . it's not you, it's them. They take you into them like you're the damn Sacrament and they love it. They thrive on it. The highlight of their life is to watch you climb on top of the ladder and fall ten feet off it."
"I don't know what you're saying." The words left me automatically, a trained response to anything he said. But inside, I could feel the words melting into me, becoming part of me, and he saw that.
"Yes, you do. You know it as much as I know it. There are people who would give everything they owned to become you. To live like you do."
"I don't ask for that!" I snapped.
"You don't, but you stepped into this lifestyle. You bleed and cry for it, and it's a part of you, and now you've become a part of it."
/Fall all over me
This life's not living/
"In a few hours I may release you. It all depends, you see. You've been ransomed for a reasonable sum of money, I believe. Your high and mighty lifestyle may stagger a bit from the prospect, but isn't a life worth more than money? Isn't that what all you softfoots believe? Well, I'm not in any position to disagree with you lot . . . but to me, life isn't worth living if it's not worth living in style. Isn't that why you chose the career you did?"
It was a question, but I'd give him nothing. If I didn't speak, there would be less to think about. He wouldn't kill me . . . he couldn't kill me . . .
"I asked you a question and I'll give you one more chance to answer."
No fear. If I gave into him, he owned me. I quaked with fear, strapped to my chair, but I did not speak. Blurry pictures swam in my mind, blurring into reality, of pews and flowers and caskets. Swearing silently I tried to banish the images from my mind. Imagining myself dead wasn't going to help anyone.
"I think I need to teach you a lesson in respect."
The line from a thousand movies.
Just as I rose my head as I heard thundering footsteps across the cobbled floor, something cracked against my skull and sent my head to the side. Pain exploded in my temple, where the blow had fallen, and I felt weak. I slumped against the ropes, sagging against the chair, and whimpered as white hot pain flowed across me.
"I thought Southerners had more hospitality than that, but I guess your father raised you wrong, Jeffrey."
Anger mingled inside me with the pain, anger at what he had said about my father.
Pain!
I gritted my teeth and held back my cry as I felt another blow crash into the other side of my head. Agony ripped through me as I felt my flesh tear. Hot blood began to flood down my face, running into my eyes and mouth.
I felt as though I could hold onto nothing. Frayed images blasted through my mind, confusing me. Where was I? The blood, the awful, sickening taste of the blood, and the pain trampling through my skull . . .
"I'm going to ask you again, Jeffrey, and hopefully by now you've learned . . . is that why you chose the profession you did? To make money?"
"No," I panted, spitting blood out of my mouth. Inside I ravaged myself for replying to this monster. "No."
"Oh? Enlighten me. I thought celebrities were in for only the money."
"No money," I whispered.
"Then there must a reason. Like hell if it was the last choice you had in your life."
"I don't know . . ." My sentence trailed off as I closed my eyes.
"Answer me, Jeffrey. Answer me and I won't have to hurt you."
"Let me go."
"You know I can't do that."
"Let me go, please . . . I'll do anything you want, I'll give you whatever you want, just let me go!" Torn from my lips, I wanted to curse myself for the weakness I showed. Who cared if my head was pouring blood? Who cared if every second I breathed more pressure bore down on me? I had suffered greater than this many times. So why was I caving in now? When this was the worst moment?
"I was wondering how long it was going to be until you started begging." In the dim light I could see the corners of his mouth lifting. "Sometimes it takes longer than this, but now by much. Most people break down the second I start to tell them of what tortures I'm going to make them live through. I've taken certain liberties with you, Jeffrey. I haven't started spinning my tales yet, but I will soon. I wanted to see if you wouldn't. If you wouldn't beg me for your life. I thought maybe you were one of the stupid, the fools who think they're in some dramatic movie and they can't talk because it shows weakness. I guess you're not strong."
/Living ain't free
And if I can't find my way back to me/
There was silence in the room for a long time after Matt's last words. I couldn't find a response somewhere inside myself, even though I dug and dug and searched for one. How was I supposed to answer to something like that? What was I supposed to say? I hadn't really given myself up, had I? I still belonged to myself; I still owned every part of me, didn't I? How could Matt be saying this?
He was my brother; he was supposed to be on my side! He was supposed to support me, be there for me, advise me! Where did he get off on telling me how I lived my life? Where did he get the gall to go after my sorest spot, the spot that blurred the line between my professional and personal lives? Why was I even listening to him? All he had in mind was his own career. That was why he tried to get me to stick with him! That's why he flattened every dream I owned, that's why he flattened all my muses and whims . . . I had to stick with him so that we could become the greatest tag team ever, then he could dump me and catapult through with all the heat we had accumulated! He was selfish!
I glared at him from across the room, every single thought spewing acid on the way I held my brother.
He noticed me and sighed, standing up and picking up his bag. "I don't want to be with you tonight, Jeff. You can have the hotel, I'll bunk with someone else. Sorry."
"You take the hotel!" I burst angrily. "I don't need your fucking pity!"
"You were paying for half the room," he said, "it's not pity. It's already reserved, we can't just get out of it. You take it and I'll still pay half."
"I don't want it!" I leapt off my bench, shouting. "I don't want your fucking pity!"
"I do not pity you," he said harshly. "Stop yelling. I know you don't want to bunk with anyone else but me, but I don't want to look at you right now!"
"And I don't want to look at you!"
"Then it's settled!"
"Get your ass out of here!" I waved frantically with my arms. "It's enough that I have to deal with my own feelings, I have to deal with your lame ones too!"
"Where do you get off, telling me to leave?" He dropped his bag. "Why don't you leave? This is my fucking room!"
"GET OUT!"
"THIS IS MY ROOM!" he screamed back. "GET OUT! GET YOUR RETARDED, PUNK ASS OUT OF HERE!"
"I'M NOT LEAVING!"
"Fine!" His voice dropped suddenly, dropped down to just a little above normal, but still with heated intensity. "I don't care what you do anymore, Jeff! Because you obviously don't care what everybody else does!"
"GET OUT!"
"This is my room, Jeff, if you want to leave, then go ahead. I don't care anymore."
"Get out, Matt, just leave!"
"I've already told you more than once."
"No, Matt, please . . . just get out of here, just leave me alone . . ."
"No, Jeff." His voice was calm.
Hot, hot, hot tears clouded my vision, stung my eyes. NO! I couldn't cry, not here . . .
"Please, please . . ."
"I'm sorry, Jeffro."
A tear, scalding, broke free of my eye and I coughed to cover the sob in my voice. I grabbed my bag, and without another look, tore out of the room, slammed the door, and ran for the parking lot.
I didn't care if I had match, who cared, who cared, nobody cared about me . . .
Scorching tears slipped down my face, dripped loudly onto the pavement below.
The one person in the world that I had tried in every way to please had just condemned me. And he had shown no emotion.
I felt as though my heart was breaking.
/Let the sun fall down over me
Let the sun fall down/
A sharp ringing sound broke through the crazy laugher that he was emitting. He halted quickly and the ringing continued to sound throughout the room and then the man spoke, though not to me, "Hello?"
With abated breath I listened to the conversation that the man held with what I assumed was a cell phone. In the light I could just make out his eyes, narrow and still, and his mouth moved but no sound came out.
"Yes." His voice was a growl. "Are you sure?"
There was a slight pause and then he said, in a weak, humbling voice, "I can make it happen, sir. I'm sorry for the trouble, sir. It's not problem, sir."
I quavered. What could they possibly be talking about? If they were talking, they had to be in it together. They'd had to have planned the scene in the parking lot, it had to be at least a two-person job. So they were both in it, and this man was taking orders from another . . . oh, what now? Why didn't they just let me go? How long had it been since I had been here? Hours? Days?
"Yes, sir." The man snapped the phone closed and trilled at me. "Looks like I'm going to have to get a little more physical earlier than I thought, Jeffrey. I see your family doesn't realize you're missing."
Physical?
"Due to their delayed knowledge, I'm afraid we're going to have to get intimate so that they don't believe it's a hoax."
"Let me go!" I whimpered involuntarily.
"Stop that, it doesn't help you. You're going to have to close your eyes for a second. Will you be a good boy and keep your eyes shut?" He paused delicately. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'll close them for you. Why bother with formalities? Let's just cut to the chase."
Suddenly he sprang forward from the moonlight to the darkness, in a flash of glinting steel, and pain burst into my brain.
I cried out as I felt his fist knock against my eyes, tear into my flesh, and I could see nothing. Darkness shrouded me, total, complete.
Pain rocked through me, shredded through my mind. I slumped against my ropes, head hanging, blinking, crying out again and again as more and more pain cut into me.
"I suppose I could have just covered your eyes," he said offhandedly. I felt him tipping my chin up. I tried to look up at him, peer at him, but I felt my eyes painfully swollen shut. "But this way was so much more fun. Now be a good boy for a minute while I get a few things."
I heard his footsteps tapping away, then the creaking of an old door, a few sounds faraway that I couldn't distinguish, and then finally a heaving slamming.
When the noises stopped, and there was nothing but the silence and the darkness in front of me, tears started to slip down my face, making way through my swollen eyes.
Why had I run? Why had I run away from my brother?
/All my friends are searching
Quietly, desperately/
The night breeze was cool and sweet, fresh and light. It was such a change from the stale air of the building, the suffocating air of betrayal and bitterness. The busy sounds of the city reached my eyes, sounding very muted, and besides that, there was no noise in this hidden stretch of parking structure. Nobody and nothing could bother me now, now while I sorted through my tears and tried to sift through my feelings.
I sank to the paved road, drawing up my knees and hiding my hot face in my hands. Few times had Matt made me cry. Most of the times had been when we were kids, when he had pushed me and abused me in the way only older siblings could. When he had pushed me into a deep fox hole so that my leg was stuck, and then told me stories about how the fox was going to come out any moment and chew my leg off, I had bawled until my father had come running. When we were in middle school and he told the girl that we both liked that I had kissed another girl, I had cried my heart out while he stood by silently. Stupid arguments, those. Stupid points and stupid issues over stupid things.
Those endless nights on the road while we worked the Indie leagues sometimes triggered tears in me, tears of frustration and disappointment that Matt precipitated. I couldn't count the times that Matt had made me feel worthless and dirty, but never before had he made me run away and cry. Never before had he made me feel like he was my father and I would never appease him.
I felt worthless. I felt hollow.
The churning of tire wheels caused me to raise my buried head from my hands and peer through the orange lamplight. A sleek black car wheeled its way toward me from the main way, clicking along smoothly. Sucking in my breath, I stood up, brushed myself off, and scrubbed at my face. It was probably just some disillusioned fan, seeking some way to sneak into the show. Better not to let myself be seen in this state. With all the rumors circulating, this would surely become one of my other drug incidents.
Shouldering my bag, I started to walk back toward the building, already constructing barriers against my emotions inside, and then a light voice called out, "Jeff Hardy!"
Groaning inwardly, I told myself not to turn around, it was just some fan, I had already made many feel happy, but then the voice called again, and I heard a phantom of Matt's voice whisper: Those who dream that they could be you. The highlight of their week is to watch you.
Breathing in deeply, I fixed a smile on my face and turned around slowly, expecting to see a teenaged girl streaking up to me, hands outstretched to tackle me.
I had never even heard the footsteps moving up behind me, moving to overtake me.
A hand flashed through the darkness, something connected with my skull, and I fell to the ground, struggling to hang onto consciousness, struggling to remain in the light.
"Get him in the car, move, move, move! MOVE! We're late!"
Hands reached down from above, stretching toward me, moving, moving, moving . . .
Everything moved slowly, slowly, slowly . . .
The hands touched me, found holds on my body, and lifted me up, up, and up.
"Stop," I slurred, feeling darkness circling around me, pulsating and grabbing me. "Stop."
"Try."
Try?
I tried, desperately, to hold onto consciousness, to dangle from the light and not release my hold.
Suddenly a loud noise, a gunshot, went off close to my ears. What?
"Stop," I tried again, as I felt my mind closing . . . slowly . . . . slowly . . . . slowly . . . .
/Look into their eyes, you'll see the faithless crying
Save me, save me, save me/
I think I dozed, for a few fitful moments. I don't know how long he was out of the room, or how long the pain stayed in my mind, but I think I dozed. Flashes of lights flowed through my mind, orange and red, and then there was a face, saying something sadly, speaking as though through a heavy glass, and it was replaced by a flame-spitting dragon, a great, swirling, twisting dragon roaring something through the flame, roaring something important . . .
The door banged open and I jerked in my seat, my eyes automatically trying to fly open, but unable to for the swollen flesh.
"I'm back, Jeffrey," said the familiar voice cheerfully. "I've brought a few friends along, but they'll be staying mostly quiet . . . have I introduced myself yet?" There was mock shock. "I wasn't intending to, but you might need to distinguish . . . you can call me Wolf."
"Rabbit," huffed a voice with a clattering of steel.
"Hawk," said a slightly more intelligent voice. "You won't need to hear my voice . . . my fists should be enough."
Bolts of fear hammered through me.
"Mayee we sould give hin a name," said the one I recognized as Rabbit. "Y'know . . . ta make him feel spefial or somethin . . ."
"Shut up, Rabbit," snarled the one called Hawk. "You're not needed in this. You just set up your camera."
Camera?
"Why is he even along?" said my old friend, Wolf, severely.
"You know why."
"I don't, but I'll save it for later. Now we have to give our full attention to our film star."
"I cen't see, in tis lights," complained Rabbit, and there was another clattering of steel. "Cen't you urn en anuzer lights?"
"Here," said Hawk and through my half-closed eyes I could see light suddenly flaring. "Just hold it on him . . . it doesn't have to be perfect, you just have to get the gist of it."
"I ill fye," promised Rabbit.
"Should we get started, then?" Wolf said pleasantly and there was the sickening sound of clinking steel. "Maybe I should start, since I already know Jeffrey. Remember, Jeffrey? I said we were going to get to know each other intimately . . . see, I'm going to hear screams no other person will hear . . . I'm going to get to hear you cry and plead . . . are you ready?"
I sunk lower and lower into my chair.
Oh Lord, no, please, God, help me, no . . .
Footsteps moved closer to me, closer to my prison of tape and wood, and I trembled, quaked.
"Maybe it will even be painless, Jeffrey. We don't want to hurt you that badly . . . just enough to get it all captured on film and then send along to your family. Watching you suffer on a video should get the idea nice and through to them what we can do to you."
"Don't," I whispered. "Don't, please. I already told you, I'll give you what you want . . ."
"You have to realize, Jeffrey, that it's not just that. There's a bigger problem involved in this, Jeffrey, not just yours. But isn't that classic? You always thinking just about yourself?"
"Please . . ."
"You never answered my question, Jeffrey, about why you joined your career if it wasn't for the money. Maybe after we're done you'll answer."
Footsteps clattered, steel clinked, and something very suddenly, very painfully, slammed into my side.
I screamed as I felt something cut into me, cut deep, cut hot.
I felt as though I was going to die.
/What are they to feel?
Who are they to be?/
"Jeff," my brother said, tossing a sheaf of papers toward me. "Maybe you should read that."
The trepidation in his voice stopped me cold and I looked over at him to see his eyes clouded and worried. "What's wrong, Matt?"
"Read that, Jeff . . . then you tell me."
Quickly I scanned the article I held in my hands. As I raced through line after line, I felt anger rise inside me, like a balloon had just been inflated inside my chest. When I emerged from the article I saw Matt's dark eyes still on me.
"A little off the point, aren't they?" I threw the paper down in disgust and closed my eyes, trying to battle away the anger I felt inside.
"Yeah," he said, sounding obviously relieved. "It's just rubbish. They're just idiots who don't have anything better to do with their time."
"Obviously." I sat down next to the article, feeling almost happy that I had successfully squashed the emotions inside, and then I saw the headline again. JEFF HARDY: EXTREME FLYER OR EXTREME JUNKIE?
The anger came flying back.
"They're fucking idiots!" I thundered off the bench, snatching up the article and gripping it so hard my knuckles turned white. "They're fucking morons! Who the hell are these people? Where the hell do they get the right calling me what they're calling? They have no life, obviously, when they have to think up crap like this!"
"That's it, Jeff, they have no life!" Matt stood up as well, apprehension in his eyes. He looked almost scared. "It's alright, Jeff, you just said it. They're morons who have nothing better to do. Its okay, Jeff. Calm down. They've made up worst stuff than this."
"Name one!" I snarled at him.
"Um . . . when they thought you were gay! Remember that, Jeff? We laughed ourselves hoarse about that! This is in the same league."
"It is NOT!" I flung the papers down. "It's not, Matt! This is the kind of crap that ruins your career. This is the kind of crap that kills you! These people are fucking bitches, Matt! I want to kill them!"
"Calm down, Jeff, come on. It's not true. There's no need to be getting so worked up over stuff that is obviously false."
The pompous tone in his voice suddenly set me down another path.
"You think I am doing drugs, don't you?"
"What?"
"You think I'm doing drugs!" I whirled on him to see his shocked and hurt eyes. Shocked and hurt I had just discovered his secret no doubt. "You think I'm a fucking junkie! You think that when I go to the bathroom that I'm snorting shit, don't you? You think that when you're having your matches I'm in the room smoking shit!"
"Jeff, honestly, do you really-"
"You think I'm a fucking drug addict! You think I'm losing my passion because I've turned to drugs! When I take painkillers for my back, you're thinking that I'm hooked!"
"Jeff, stop it! I do not think you do drugs!"
"Yes, you do!" I screamed at him, stomping on the papers.
"Jeff, come on! When have I lied to you about stuff like this? If you were doing drugs, hell, Jeff, I'd kill you first! Do you honestly think I'd put up with you doing shit like that?"
I stopped.
Yeah, that sounded like the Matt I knew. Righteous Matt. Saintly Matt.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "If I ever think that you think that I'm doing-"
"I'd never think that, Jeffro," Matt said quietly. "I know you're stronger than that."
I slumped onto the bench. "Fucking idiots," I sneered half-heartedly at the paper. "Fucking retards."
"You're okay, Jeff," Matt said softly, smiling halfly. "You're okay."
/What am I to do with me?
But let the sun fall/
Again, and again and again and again, pain sliced through me. I was drowning in a well of pain, in a well of sorrow and despair. Every time I turned there was another foot, another fist. I screamed, screamed until I felt blood curdle deep inside my throat, screamed while I felt blood course down my body and spill onto the floor below.
The sickening slaps of flesh on flesh, the sickening sound of torture reached my ears, their pants and wild cries, their taunts and mocking.
Despair, thick and heavy, washed through me, along with the blood, along with the pain. I yelled and cursed and screamed and still the pain came, still the fists and chains and foots. Flashes of light burst into my mind as my skull was repeatedly flung and battered. The pain covered the entire length of my body, stretching out to cover more intensively my knees and legs.
Somewhere inside my abdomen, I felt something crack.
/Fall all over me
This life's not living/
"Nice," Matt said awkwardly, holding the paper away from him like it was a disease.
"Really?" I asked eagerly, taking my poem from him. "You liked it?"
"It was . . . different." He stood up abruptly and cleared his throat. "I'm not the person you should be showing this to, Matt. I really bombed at English, remember?"
"I just want your thoughts, Matt, come on. Be a good big brother and bear your soul."
"No, Jeff, really . . . get someone else. I'm not too good at this English stuff."
"It's a poem," I said, suddenly feeling very hollow.
"I know that, Jeff. Just . . . I have to go. I promised Shannon I'd see him at the gym . . . do you want to come?"
"No," I said dejectedly. "No, you go ahead. I think I'll stay here."
"Okay, Jeff." He sounded relieved. Picking up his bag, he went to the door and opened it, standing just outside it. He peered back at me. "Jeff? I really did think it was good."
"That's nice." I got off the bed and sulked toward the bathroom while he watched me with wounded eyes. Sighing audibly, he closed the door, and I stood just outside the bathroom.
Matt never understood me. He never liked me.
Why did I think he would
like my poem?
I looked at the thin sheet of paper, at the words with which I had bared my soul.
I crumpled it and threw it in the trash.
/Living ain't free
And if I can't find my way back to me/
The room was quiet.
Quiet now, so quiet now that Wolf wasn't in the room. The sickening sounds of torture had faded some time ago, though I couldn't tell exactly. It had to be at least four hours ago. Free of the chair, I dozed against the musty and filthy wall, raising my head high and leaning it back against the wall so that my blood ran straight to the floor instead of to my mouth or nose. My body ached in agony.
I could no longer feel my knee, only sharp jabs when I tried to bend it. Every time I breathed pain pressed closely into my ribs, into my abdomen. My hip felt weak, and when I moved, it shrieked with pain. My head felt light and every time my eyes slipped shut it felt like I were wading into some deep, satisfying pool that I never wanted to get out of.
Wolf and Hawk had finished their work shortly, but I could still hear their taunts, when they paused for a few moments, to let me breathe, and then attacked me viciously again. I could hear Rabbit grunting somewhere in the distance and in between the attacks I could see slithers of the lights, but nothing more. They had taken me from the chair and thrown me against the wall, letting me slide down, and there I still lay, too weak to move or care.
Pictures floated in my mind, pictures of Matt and Dad. The face returned to my fitful dozes, along with the fire-breathing dragon, but instead of finding fear with the dragon, I felt unusual peace. When flame spurted from its mouth I felt as though it was erasing every scar from my body and ache from my mind. I tried to sink down into the dragon, tried to find pleasure in its glistening scales and scorching fire, but try as I might, I could not.
Dimly I heard the door clang open, but I did not raise my head or try to open my eyes. Not even when I felt a presence crouch next to me, or felt breath cool my skin, or felt a hand sliding over my bloody and matted hair did I raise my head.
"Sorry for that, Jeffrey," said Wolf softly. "But the point had to be made. Your family has been sent the video tape. They received it a little more than an hour ago, so I think we'll be hearing from them soon. Don't dishearten, Jeffrey. Who cares if you're weak? Only I have seen your mind like no one else will."
I shifted slightly.
"I know you're weak, Jeffrey, you can stop trying to hide it. Didn't you hear yourself crying so piteously like that earlier? It would have broken an old woman's heart, your moans. I think that's weakness, don't you? I'm sorry to have to have exposed it to you like that, but there was really no other way."
I moaned softly.
"Yes, no other way. I know you only think about yourself, Jeffrey, but you're not the only one here. There is another purpose for your suffering. You may no know what it is, but there is purpose. Remember that old saying from the Bible, 'a time and place for every purpose under heaven' or something like that? It's kind of like that. Though you may not understand it now, you will."
I whimpered.
"I'm really sorry, Jeffrey . . . you must be starving and dehydrated, mustn't you? You've been here for almost two days."
Had it been that long? God, had it really been that long? I moaned again.
"Yes, I see you are," chuckled Wolf. "But sadly I have no food or water to give. Don't worry, Jeffrey. When you family comes you'll be pampered and loved again. Don't worry." A pat on my bruised cheek. "See you in a short while, Jeffrey."
Footsteps tapped away, the door creaked, light flared briefly in my eyes, and I felt like dying.
/Let the sun fall down over me
Let the sun fall/
The music coming from the box was as good enough as any. I knew the words from somewhere, but I didn't feel like naming them. The music was loud and it was catchy and I could lose myself in it. Elsewhere I could hear the sounds of the raging party that Matt had given for our co-workers, but I didn't want to get up and go over to see what was happening. A few of them had started treating me coldly and I couldn't figure out why. At least here in this sheltered little grove I was safe, at least until most of them left.
Closing my eyes I leaned back against the tree, oblivious to sounds of ecstatic cheering and drunken laughter, but not the music. No, the music I let flow into me, surround me, form the halo of safety that I was never able to resurrect myself.
"Jeff?"
I opened one eye upon recognizing the voice. "Hi Matt."
"Hey." His eyes were tired and red, his body looking a little haggard. He joined me on the dirt and leaned against the tree.
"Having a good time?" I asked, closing my one eye again.
"Not really."
"Then why did you give the party?"
"I don't know . . . Amy wanted to party and I hadn't given one in such a long time and . . ."
He trailed off.
"I see. Well, is everyone else having a good time at least?"
"Oh yes, a fantastic time." His voice was sarcastic. "Trish just stripped on the table, Torrie's being coddled by everyone but Billy, Shannon's about to drop drunk, and Adam and Jay are passed out on the pool table. Yeah, it's becoming a very satisfactory party."
"Sorry, Matt."
"Why don't you come in? It's cold."
"I like it out here."
"The food's good. Come on, Jeff. I think I can bear it if you're in there with me."
I turned my head and looked at him. Up close he looked even more ragtag than I had first sensed. "I don't want to, Matt. Why don't you stay out here?"
"It's cold out here. Come on. I'll knock up Amy and you can watch."
"Oh yeah, that's very nice. I should tell her you said that." I gazed at the lights flooding from the house. "It's too loud. I'm not feeling very good, Matt. Peace and quiet is what I need right now."
He sighed deeply and stood up, clapping a hand to my shoulder briefly. "Okay. Well, just come in when everybody leaves. I don't want to be responsible for your ass freezing."
"It's not cold."
"Sure." He smiled tiredly down at me. "See you, Jeff."
"Matt." He turned around to my voice. "Why don't you stay here? You look tired."
"I am." For a moment he looked sorely tempted, and then he sighed again. "But I threw this fucking party. It'll look bad when the cops bust down the door for disturbing the peace and the host isn't there. I'll try to get everyone out before midnight . . . round up the few who aren't drunk and get them to drive the drunks back home. Can I interest you in being a driver?"
"Check with me later."
"Sure. Wish me luck."
"May all your fortunes come to pass."
"Well, that's luck if I ever heard it."
He walked back toward the house and the glittering lights. He faded into blackness completely as he neared the house.
I missed the times when he and I could just sit out in the wilderness, under a tree, and talk about whatever was on our minds. I miss the simplicity of the bond of brotherhood, when I could confess my fears to him and he wouldn't laugh, but would look at me with the serious expression on his face like my troubles were the only troubles in the world.
Now his troubles were the cops and the drunks in his house. I was alone under a tree in the dark and he didn't find it troubling.
I closed my eyes against the harsh lights of the party and wished for sleep.
/Until my eyes cry out
Till my head is free from doubt/
The dragon reared in my mind again, opening its snout to reveal wickedly curved yellowing teeth. Flames of blood red fire spurted from its mouth and bellowed around, enveloping it in a thick orange cloud. Concerned, I watched the dragon roar and moan inside its cloudy prison. I could see glimpses of moist red scales, suddenly bleaching black.
Black? The dragon was being burned alive.
Horrified I watched while it continued to moan and scream, roaring an unearthly sound of rage and pain.
I feel for you . . . I feel for you.
The dragon was being burned alive . . . and in a way so was I.
For the umpteenth time the door clacked open loudly, there was a brief surge of light, and then the familiar darkness.
"Weakling Jeffrey," sneered a voice from high above. "Weakling, weakling Jeffrey."
"I want to see him," said an entirely new voice, roughly familiar.
"Yes, sir," Wolf said smartly. Hands gripped my shoulders and hefted. I groaned as pain seared across my ribs and hips as he lifted me up and up. My legs stabilized for a moment under me, and for a moment I swayed, dangerously close to vertigo. Then I slumped back, my hip shrieking and ribs burning. I collapsed against the wall, starting to slide down it, a sob in my voice.
"Get up!" Wolf grunted. Hands again gripped my shoulders and pinned me to the wall, preventing me from falling. "Here he is, sir."
"Can he see?"
"I'll make sure he can't."
I only whimpered as I felt his fists crash against my eyes. The little precious light I had been able to see through my swollen skin disappeared. I was in total darkness and in total pain.
"Good." The unknown voice sounded pleased. "Fine job, Wolf. Have you broken him yet?"
"I believe so, sir. I'm not quite sure of the extent."
"Well, there's a way to find that out." I felt hands touching my bruised cheeks, smoothing back my blood-matted hair. "Leave me with him, Wolf."
"Sir?"
"Don't be a fool, you knew this was coming. He's not a threat anymore. I doubt he could walk. Turn on the low lights and then leave us."
"Yes, sir. Would you like a weapon in case?"
"No, but I want Rabbit to set up his video camera. Just the camera. No need for Rabbit to stay in the room. No need for Rabbit really . . ."
"Yes, sir. I will get him immediately." Wolf released me and I slid down to the cobbled floor, falling soundlessly to my side. The unknown man chuckled. I held my breath, fear breaking through the pain. What did this man intend to do?
"How are you, Jeff? How do you feel?"
If I wanted to answer him, I had doubts if I could. My throat was painfully dry and sore.
"Poor you," he said. "I guess you don't feel really well, do you? That's okay, Jeffro . . . you weren't ever supposed to. This wasn't supposed to be a picnic for you. I guess Wolf made you aware of the fact that this just isn't about you . . . but I should be sorry for the pain you're suffering. Oddly enough, I enjoy watching you suffer. It makes me feel powerful."
A crash and then the door groaned open.
"Damn it, Rabbit, shut up!"
"I'n orry, Wolf, ere's a ole in the foor . . ."
"Just set up the damn camera!"
The loud noises hurt my ears and I whimpered softly.
"Don't fret, Jeff, they'll be out soon enough."
A few minutes of steel and metal clinking finally gave way to pants. "Ins done, sir. Ins on and olling and cording. In shauld work neecly or you."
"Thank you, Rabbit, that's good enough," Wolf said roughly, "now get out!"
"Thank you, Rabbit," said the unknown voice, much kinder. "If you would please go and make me something to eat, I would much appreciate it. I think I'll be hungry after this."
Nails of fear suddenly bolted onto me.
"You too, Wolf. Off you go." No protest, just the door creaking shut again.
"Well, that's finally done, we should get to it. There's only one way to make sure you're broken completely, Jeffro . . . unfortunately I'm the only man enough to do it, so I'll have to do it . . . this might hurt, Jeff, but don't worry, you may even enjoy it . . ."
Hands caressed my cheeks and ran down my neck, smoothing my bloody shirt to my skin.
"No time for foreplay, let's just get it over with."
Hands grabbed at the waistband of my pants.
Fear and disgust rolled through me.
"Stop," I croaked, trying to thrash away, the pain stopping me. "Stop."
"I didn't hear you, Jeffro. Just be quiet."
I moaned. No, no, no, no, this couldn't be happening, no, no, no, no, this was insane.
Hands glided over my bare flesh.
I thrashed, the pain in my hip cresting so that I moaned.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!
I wished for somebody to find me, somebody to kill me, somebody to take this monster off me.
Oh God, no, he can't be doing this, this isn't right, this is wrong . . .
I wanted to scream my agony, wanted to beat him off me, wanted to kill him.
I wanted to destroy him, wanted to mangle him so that he would live the rest of his life in utter pain. Hatred that I hadn't felt before welled suddenly inside me, suddenly, horribly inside me. I wanted to die.
Pain, pain I had never felt before, white hot, scalding pain shot through me. I screamed.
Somebody help me, somebody help me, anybody . . . anybody . . .
I cried out for Matt, cried out for my brother, cried out for anybody, anybody to save me from this utter violation.
Nobody answered my cry.
/Till my lungs sigh right out
Till I'm the wiser/
I was six years old and Matt was eight.
In the backyard of our old house we sat on the porch, hearing the sounds rattling underneath us in the darkness.
"Matty," I whispered, clutching his arm. "What's underneath us?"
"Nothing, Jeff," Matt said impatiently. "It's nothing to worry about."
"Matt, I'm scared. It's dark."
"Shut up, Jeff. There's nothing to be scared about."
"Matt, I'm scared."
He sighed the sigh of oblivious big brothers and then swung a hand over my shoulders. "Okay, Jeff. How about we go and look to see?"
"I'm scared!"
"Let's go see if there's something down there."
"I'm scared, Matty . . ."
"How about I check?"
"But what if the monsters get you?"
"There's no monsters, Jeff, I'll show you." With that he leapt down from the porch and without warning darted underneath it.
"Matt!" Fear ran through me. My brother was going to get hurt! I scrambled down from the porch and peered inside the darkness. Breathing hard, I looked for any sign of Matt, but I saw nothing. "Matt!" I yelled. "Matt, come out! MATT!"
"What?"
Shrieking, I jumped back as he emerged from the darkness, a smile on his face. Relief flooded through me and I ran toward him, hugging him tightly.
"Matt, you're alive!"
"Oh, shut up, you stupid little kid." He hugged me anyway. "There's nothing underneath there, I told you. Now let's go inside and eat. I'm starving."
"I'm not," I said, still smiling. "Thank you."
"For what, stupid?"
At that moment I couldn't have loved my brother any bigger. He had gone into the darkness and assured me that no monster could get me. He would do anything for me.
Until that illusion was shattered.
/Let the sun
Fall all over me/
"Your brother doesn't love you, Jeff. Your brother never loved you. He's lied to you. He's manipulated you."
Pain shook me.
"Your brother hates you, Jeff. Your brother sees your weakness and he despises it. It's all your fault, Jeffro. Everything is always your fault."
I moaned in pain.
"Sorry, Jeff, to show it like this. Sorry it had to be like this."
Pain tore up and up through my stomach and I screamed again, a scream that I didn't even know I could make.
"Am I hurting you, Jeff? I'm sorry. It has to be done, though. The dirty work must always be done."
Shadows painted pictures in my mind, pictures of nothing.
"Matt doesn't care about you, Jeff. You need to accept that. Say you accept it and I'll leave. I'll leave you."
I whimpered my agony into the stone floor.
"Come on, Jeff, say it! Say it! Say your brother doesn't care about you!"
Pain rose so hard in my hip I wanted to bang my head on the stone floor and knock myself out.
"Say it, Jeff." His voice was exasperated and uncaring. "Say it, Jeff. Come on, Jeff, just say it and I'll go away."
I groaned.
"Say it, Jeff!"
Intense pain broke through me and I screamed again, my scream echoing off the walls and coming back to haunt my own head.
"Say it, and I'll make it stop. I'll go away. Just say it . . ."
"He doesn't care."
"What?"
The pain blissfully stopped.
"I didn't hear you, Jeffro. You need to say it louder."
I tried to clear my throat. "He doesn't care."
"Say it like you mean it, Jeff."
I whimpered. "He doesn't care!"
Sounding pleased he said, "Well, that's good enough for me, Jeffro. See how easy that was? See how easy it could be?"
I tried to banish all thoughts from my mind, tried to dispel every emotion churning inside me.
"I told you, Jeff, that you were weak. Now do you understand how weak you are? Now do you understand?"
I slumped against the cobbled stone floor and asked myself why I had ever thought I was stronger than anybody else.
/This life's not living
Living ain't free/
I tried to make my brother happy. I wanted him to like me. It was the curse of all the younger siblings. The approval from your peers.
I wanted him to like me. I wanted him to think I was good. God, I just wanted him to think I was equal. That's all I ever wanted. When everything else fell away, everything I ever did was for my brother. To strive to make him think I was the same. To think I was equal. To think I was as good as he was.
And when that fell away, what was left? Some hollow, empty shell of me? Some shadow without a name? A person hiding in the dusk and running out into the night?
What was I without my brother's acceptance?
I was weak.
/And if I can't find my way back to me
Let the sun fall down over me/
The familiar door creak and then the heavy footsteps.
"Guess what, Jeffrey? Your family's given us the money. An actually straight deal for once. I guess they thought your life was more important, huh? If only they knew your weakness. But anyways, they'll find you here in a few minutes. I don't have much else to say, really. It's been a pleasure breaking you."
Matt? Dad? They were here? They were coming for me?
"I just have one more question, Jeffrey, and then I'll be out of your miserable life. You never answered me. You never answered me when I asked you why you chose the career you did. Now I wanted you to tell me."
I tried to clear my unfocused, dazed mind.
"Come on, Jeffrey. Only a few more minutes and you'll be home free. Humor me."
Tired. So tired.
"Tell me."
"Love."
The word slipped, slow and stupid, from my cracked lips.
"Love? Is that all you can think about? Love for your career?"
My head lolled back.
"When you could have everything you want, you say love? You say love?"
"Beautiful," I muttered, darkness coming to circle in on my mind. Maybe this time I'd wake up someplace else. Maybe I'd wake up with Matt and Dad . . . but Matt didn't care about me. Maybe Dad would be there.
"Beauty, huh? You thought it was beautiful?"
"Flowers," I whispered, starting a descent into darkness.
Wolf's words became slurred together, heavy and faraway.
"Love is like a flower, so say you, huh? But flowers die, Jeff. So does love."
Heavy, so heavy, so uncaring, so faraway . . . just like Matt . . .
I relinquished whatever hold I had left on the light and gave myself up to the darkness.
/Let the sun fall down . . . ./
I know its dark, but I hope you enjoyed it. If there's response I may write a sequel . . . I don't know, this took a lot of out me. Well, I hope you enjoyed it.