A/N: I am still alive! Lol. Yes, believe it or not I am not dead! The GCSEs have tried, and failed, to overcome me. They will not succeed!
Sorry I've taken so long to update this story. I've had a little too much LOTF recently – what with doing it for my exam and all. But I'm back! So hopefully you will all forgive me.
I would just like to thank you all so much for your reviews! This is the most gorgeous fandom I have ever posted a story in. You are all amazingly wonderful and I love you for it. You can safely say that it was all of you that inspired this story.
Mind you, I don't know if that's such a good thing, bearing the type of fic this is in mind. Lol.
And to think I thought this was a dead fandom!
Enough of my rambling. Hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy!
Castle Rock was alive with darkness. Everywhere lithe, painted bodies, gleaming dully with streaks of sweat in the light of the fire, twisted and turned, cries and laughter dispersing in the charged air.
Ralph couldn't breathe. Panic was lying heavy on his chest and his throat felt constricted, dry and painful. His tired body was on edge; unwillingly starting if one of the dark entities came too near, recoiling away from the spreading hysteria. His heart was fluttering in his chest, the quick, uneven rhythm keeping beat to the primal scene better than any human drum. Bile welled up in his throat and he, instinctively, raised his bound, dirty hands to his neck to claw futilely at the rough woven fibres of the creeper wrapped restrictively around it.
A hand casually slipped down from above him and enmeshed itself roughly in the blond boy's hair, gripping tightly. With a violent tug, he was brought up onto his knees from his position on the floor, and his head was forced back painfully until his ear was against his holder's lips.
"I thought I had made it perfectly clear that you weren't allowed to touch that rope," Jack murmured softly, his voice full of meaningful consequence.
Ralph shuddered involuntarily, the other boy's hot breath ghosting across his cheek. A droplet of sweat trembled on his brow and began to slowly make its decent, leaving a pleasantly cool trail across his feverish skin. He didn't want to anger the Chief. Not now. Not with multitudes of painted savages dancing their "dance"…
He swallowed, the clenching of his throat muscles making the creeper dig uncomfortably into his skin.
"I… can't breathe," he gasped out in explanation, knowing that it was futile, knowing that he would never get any sympathy from the other boy.
Jack laughed harshly and threw him back onto the rocky ground. "Good!" He grinned savagely, and took up the end of the rope, as if it was a leash, and jerked it swiftly backwards, making Ralph choke and move further towards the red-haired boy to prevent strangulation.
Jack leant forward, muscles tensing visibly under his painted skin, and whispered cruelly, "Now, be a good dog and sit."
Ralph looked at him through the dark night, hatred coursing through him. The emotion was strong, consuming and invigorating, flooding through his system and burning out any residues of panic he had still in him. His heart was strangely calm as he stared back into the pale blue eyes that now controlled him and slowly, intentionally, sat.
Jack looked at him coolly and smiled slightly, before wrapping the spare end of creeper around one of the wooden logs which comprised his throne, and standing up.
With the grace of a hunter, he made his way through the mass of moving human flesh, which seemed to part for him instinctively, and knelt down by the fire. He grabbed the stick from the savage in charge of cooking the large boar, which had been killed and gutted only two hours ago, and prodded the haunch of it. Seemingly satisfied, he nodded at the two savages kneeling above him and they immediately dragged the blackened, steaming bag of fat off the cooking fire, sending sparks tumbling up into the night air, amidst the cheers of the tribe.
Jack stood over the carcass, his face lit redly from below by the guttering fire, sending his features into relief and making the paint seem alive. He pulled out his knife, held it ritualistically above his head, and paused, his eyes fixated on Ralph's huddled figure, just out of the moving circle of light. He smiled ferally and plunged the blade down into the meaty, dripping flesh, twisting it deep. The tribe screamed their jubilation, their mouths watering in excitement, and immediately small, grubby hands were reaching for the half-raw, life giving substance.
Ralph watched their frenzied actions, unable to keep his own mouth from watering at the delicious smell and the sight of the tender, chewy meat. His belly growled emptily, the reminder painful. His last piece of food was the sandy piece of half-cooked meat Sam had shoved at him before the chase had begun…
He leant against the Chief's throne, the rough surface of the wood digging sharply into his back, and shut his eyes, willing it all away. In his mind he was back in the loving arms of his mother, he was swimming with his father, he was sleeping in his own bed, he was down in the village, he was eating the Sunday Roast… pork… pig… Piggy…
He shuddered and opened his eyes, only to find himself confronted by the bolting blue stare, only inches from his own face. He instinctively scrambled backwards, his heart thumping wildly, only to be stopped by a sharp, painful tug around his neck.
Jack was holding the creeper again.
He glared at him balefully, but the red-head only smirked.
"What were you thinking about?" he asked, his eyes raking up and down the other boy's body.
Ralph surppressed the urge to cover himself up from the hungry gaze. Feeling uncomfortably vulnerable in the other boy's presence, he turned away; silent.
Jack frowned slightly and tugged again on the rope attached to Ralph's neck. "I asked what you were thinking about." The words were spoken softly but with an undertone of menace, of a promised threat.
"S'none of your business," Ralph muttered, unwilling to allow the other such a personal invasion.
There was a tense silence. Then:
"You hungry, Ralph?"
Ralph turned his head quickly and regarded the other boy – or rather the other boy's hand which was held out in front of him, holding a piece of meat, dripping fat, pink and juicy. He swallowed and reached out for it with his bound hands, but it was immediately snatched back.
"What were you thinking?" Jack asked firmly, triumphantly.
Ralph closed his eyes unhappily, knowing he was defeated: he had to have the meat. He was so hungry. "I was thinking about being at home… with my mum and dad…" He opened his eyes. "I was thinking about Piggy," he said, quietly.
He could feel the anger radiating off the other boy at his words but he couldn't bring himself to care. To speak his name to his murderers seemed like a betrayal and it weighed heavily on his chest.
Piggy…
"Here," Jack spat from above him.
The meat was thrown to the ground and he immediately reached out his hands to snatch it up, bringing the warm piece of dirt-encrusted flesh to his mouth, and began tearing at it savagely, chewing it, swallowing it.
Jack watched him, expressionless. When he was done, he wordlessly held out another piece. Ralph reached out and grabbed it, muttered his thanks, and then rapidly consumed it as well.
Jack smiled coldly, then, without a warning, hauled upwards on the rope, making Ralph choke and quickly struggle to his feet, the process made difficult with both hands tied, to take the pressure off his neck. Jack smiled again, turned and tugged at the rope, indicating he wanted Ralph to follow him.
"Where are we going?" he breathed out heavily, stumbling after Jack, unsure of his footing in the strange, dark terrain.
"Back," was the non-committal grunt.
Ralph swallowed but continued following the other boy, having no choice in the matter. He didn't want to be at the fire, true, but going back to the dark, dank cave, which was now the Chief's home, with only Jack for company, hardly seemed a better option.
Jack stopped outside the entrance when he came to it, waiting, impatiently, for Ralph to catch up. When he did, gasping, Jack roughly shoved him inside.
Ralph had been shown the cave that afternoon; had been tied up in it for the majority of the time he had spent at Castle Rock, waiting, with a growing sense of dread, for Jack and his hunting party to arrive back with their kill. He had grown uncomfortably familiar with his surroundings – the rocky slab he had been forced to lie on, the large towering stalactite growing up from the middle of the sandy floor, the strange, dim light from a hole in the roof to one side – but this knowledge still didn't prevent him from cracking his shin on a jutting piece of limestone.
He cried out loud and fell to one knee, nursing his throbbing bone. Jack, following him, tugged cruelly on the rope, sending him sprawling to the ground. Ralph made to get up, but Jack was already on him, straddling him, pressing his full weight into him.
There was a silence, the only sound their ragged breathing: Ralph's from pain, Jack's from exhilaration. Ralph stared up at his tormentor in the almost total blackness, and thought he could see the white of the hunter's eyes.
What are you doing?" he asked, shifting restlessly beneath the other's hot, heavy body.
He got no reply. Instead, he felt Jack stiffen… and then he was gone, the heat of his body only a memory in the consuming black madness. He heard the red-head move further into the cave and, carefully, not wanting to attract unwanted attention to himself, he drew himself up and stood.
He glanced into the darkness, aware that for the first time since his capture he was unguarded, then turned his head in the direction of the entrance, weighing escape up in his mind. He knew, from the slackness of his throat's bondage, that Jack no longer held the rope. He could run. He could be free. He could do it!
Run.
His muscles tensed in anticipation of flight but, before he could take one step, a large, dirty hand clamped around his upper arm, and Jack's mouth was at his ear, his body close enough to Ralph that he could feel the heat radiating from it.
"If you escaped, I would find you," the breathy voice ghosted across his skin, excitement and malice embroiled in every word the boy spoke. "Always."
"I wasn't going to run," Ralph said, the sentence sounding false and ridiculous even in his own ears. He attempted to wrench his arm from Jack's grip but failed: the boy was strong.
The Chief ignored his words as if they had never been spoken. "If you ran, I would have to punish you." He paused, the dreadful excitement in his voice making Ralph shudder. "I would whip you," he said, softly. "I would whip you in front of the others. I would make you cry."
Ralph twisted away from him. "I wasn't going to run," he said firmly, unable to stop his voice from trembling slightly.
There was a silence.
"Get to bed," Jack said in his normal, arrogant tone, not even acknowledging the other's words.
Fingers trailed around Ralph's neck, feeling for the rope which kept him prisoner. Jack followed the creeper down until he reached the end of it, and tugged, sending Ralph forwards, towards him.
"You'll sleep by me tonight."
"I don't want to."
"Shut up."
Ralph was too tired to argue the point.
He felt, rather than saw, Jack lower himself to the ground and a sharp tug on the creeper made him follow suit. Dried grass hit his scuffed knees and the unlooked for comfort almost made him thank the other boy in unthinking relief. Almost. It would at least be more comfortable than the rock slab he had been on before.
Jack lay down and shifted about a bit, until he was happy with his position. He looked up through the gloom at Ralph and was annoyed to see the dark outline of his shape, sitting perfectly still, seemingly content.
"Lie down."
He tugged on the rope. Ralph didn't move.
"What are you going to do with me?" His voice was soft and quiet. A statement. A needing statement. A desperate statement.
Jack regarded the other's outline, thoughtfully.
"Nothing. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight we sleep." Jack paused, "I will tell you what I think you need to know in the morning. Now," he pulled again at the creeper, annoyance creeping through into his voice, "sleep."
Ralph hesitated, before gingerly lying down next to the boy, as far away as he could, taking up as little space as possible. Jack grunted and casually threw an arm around the blond boy's shoulders, drawing him closer. Ralph froze, the foreign limb heavy and clammy and… wrong on his back. He stiffened and closed his eyes, not wanting Jack's touch. He retreated back into his mind, back to his parents, back to the little cottage in Devon…
It was a long time before Ralph found peace that night and sleep took him.
A/N So I hoped you liked and it wasn't a disappointment. I'm worried it wasn't as good as the other two.
The whole "R" rating thing is beginning to bug me slightly. I want it R, goddammit! But my brain is not allowing me to throw all credibility out the window with this one. They are twelve after all. But it will become R! Growls at stupid brain I'm the one in charge here.
Reviews are so greatly appreciated, you would not believe it. No, really. It's hard to fathom the undying gratitude and inspiration they produce.