Title: - Adam
Author: - Katt
Rating: - M
Fandom: - The Shield
Pairing: - Dutch/OMC
Warnings: - It's non-con and very dark. There's not much happiness here folks.
Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.
Author's Notes: - This fic was written for the 2005 NaNoWriMo that finished yesterday. I made it to 26,790 words on November 30th so just a little short of the 50,000-word target LOL.
Adam – Prologue
He had his eyes squeezed so tightly shut that sparkles of colour exploded beneath his closed eye lids like fireworks igniting in the darkened sky on the fourth of July. The colours, illusions being produced by his visual cortex, burned brightly and he felt his arms contract even tighter around his knees as he tried to hold himself in. The thin mattress he was sat on kept the cold from his feet and backside but the freezing damp from the brick wall he was leaning against leached its way through his thin shirt numbing the skin on his back and reaching down inside of him to freeze his bones. He barely felt the pain as he rhythmically banged his head back against the bricks, the sharp copper tang of blood filling his mouth as his teeth broke through the delicate skin of his lower lip as he concentrated hard on keeping inside the howls that threatened to come streaming from his mouth.
He knew the blackness was out there waiting for him. It was always there like a shroud covering him, suffocating him never letting him escape. Sometimes he could actually feel it, like it was a living thing swirling around him, watching him, waiting to pounce, to swallow him whole. He knew if he opened his eyes it would be there, surrounding him. At least with his eyes closed he could pretend, fool himself into thinking that maybe, just maybe, when he opened them light would be waiting for him. Colour and life and freedom would be waiting for him. The colourful visual illusions he could see behind his eye lids reminding of what he missed, of what had been taken away from him.
Vision and colour that had been stolen from him not by an accident or an illness, but by some unseen person or people. It wasn't that he'd been blinded, no he'd just had all the light taken away from him. He'd awoken to find himself buried alive in a square brick room about twelve feet by ten feet with a thin mattress on the floor, a blanket, a toilet and wash basin in one corner and no light.
At first he'd panicked thinking he had been blinded. But since he felt no pain or discomfort, except a slight feeling of nausea upon awaking which he assumed was due to the cloying sickly sweet smell that had been on the cloth that had been forced over his nose and mouth before he'd passed out, he soon dismissed that theory and came to the conclusion he'd merely had all light taken from him.
Merely had all light taken from him…how innocuous that sounded, like an inconvenience nothing more. Now he realised how stupid, naïve he'd been then. He would sell his soul for some light – a candle, a torch, even a match that would bathe him in it's glow just for a few short seconds would be something.
Suddenly he couldn't stand the illusion of colour anymore and he snapped his eyes open and was immediately swallowed up into the darkness. Unable to keep his despair inside anymore he gave up the battle with himself and parted his bloody and bitten lips and screamed into the black feeling his sanity slipping further away from his tenuous grasp.