Author's note ~ For those of you that are a bit on the squeamish side, there is a bit of gore near the end of this chapter. I didn't go into terribly specific detail, but it is there, so be forewarned.
Hope you enjoy.
"Tonight we're going to play a new game, boys, with all new rules. And the first thing you're going to do is let go of the kid."
Silence fell like a lead blanket over the boys as they tried to process the sudden turn of events. Breaths were held, and no one dared to move more than their eyes as their minds scrambled to come up with a way out of the tense, dangerous predicament they now found themselves in. Newt could hear his heartbeat thundering in his head, and a single tear slipped past his grip and slid down his pale cheek as relief and gratitude washed through him.
"Step away from him, kid, and get your ass over here." Adrian ordered calmly, his voice dripping with authority, his hands steady as rock.
Doug made no move to stop the blonde as he walked shakily over to the man, shivering a little as he came close enough to see the murderous rage that swam beneath Adrian's tightly controlled expression.
"You alright?" Adrian asked quietly.
Newt nodded, eyes huge, too much in shock to voice the words.
"Good. Turn around so I can cut you loose."
Newt pivoted and offered his bound hands to the man, close enough now to hear the pitiful wheezing gasps that puffed from the restrained bully. Adrian removed the knife from the boy's throat but retained his crushing grip on Wes's genitalia as a warning against any bright ideas, making quick work of severing the coarse twine circling Newt's wrists. As soon as he felt the cord fall away Newt stepped back, rubbing the feeling back into his hands as he surveyed the lost expressions on the silently watching boys. Two looked merely scared, the third looked openly ashamed and resigned, as though he had realized that this outcome had been inevitable, sooner or later. The fourth was turning his head left and right, scanning the trees around them, obviously working himself up into a panic. Before Newt could say anything, the frantic boy made a mad dash into the woods, instantly disappearing into the darkness. The other three shifted on their feet, clearly thinking about copying their friend's hasty escape.
"I wouldn't if I were you." Adrian said, almost casually. "It's not like there's really anywhere that you can go. You might as well stay and face the music – if I have to go hunting for you, I can promise you that things will be so much worse. Whoever has the rope, get it out; we're going to make sure that no one else takes off so rudely before I've had my say."
One boy stepped forward; the one who's face still shone with shame. His dark skin ashy with fear, sweat pouring down his face, he followed the man's instructions and tied first Wes, then Doug and his other cohort to small sturdy trees. Each captive was completely vulnerable, kept on their feet with their arms tied to the trunk above their heads; they'd never been so afraid in their lives. Adrian tied up the last boy himself, effortlessly looping the rope and securing him to a tree of his own. When all four were suitably immobilized, Adrian sheathed his knife and turned to face his friend, speaking in a firm, quiet voice.
"You need to go back to the house now, kid."
Newt finally found his words, though they came out in a hissy whisper.
"No way Addy! I'm not leaving you here with these bloody shanks! What if they jump you when you let them loose? What if – "
"Please." Adrian said sincerely, cutting off what would surely have been an impressive example of Newt's imagination. "Do this for me. Go back to the house. Bar the door. I'll meet you back there later."
"No Addy, please! I don't want them to hurt you! Let's just get out of here." Newt pleaded desperately, reaching out and gripping the man's shirt as if he could haul him back to the house by will alone.
Adrian smiled faintly, bringing a hand up to ruffle Newt's already tousled hair.
"I'll be fine. Go home, kid. For me."
Defeated, realizing that this was an argument he wouldn't win, Newt lowered his head and miserably acquiesced . Adrian gave his shoulder a bolstering squeeze before walking over to face the suspiciously silent boys. Keeping the fire inside him firmly in check, he spread his hands wide in a mildly mocking gesture and addressed the villains, hearing the sound of Newt's footsteps rapidly fading into the distance.
"Well well well, boys. It's always nice to have a captive audience. I believe it's time for us to have a nice little chat."
Newt didn't know how he managed to find the house in the dark; the trees and underbrush passed by in blurred smears of black and grey and green as he stumbled over the uneven ground, tripped over every exposed root and reaching bramble. When he found himself in front of the familiar door, he heard his breath whooshing out in fast, almost hysterical squeaks. He wrenched the door open, slamming it shut and forcing the bar across it with trembling hands. Slumping bonelessly to the floor, he sat with his back against the heavy wood and put his head between his knees, desperately sucking in air and trying to calm himself as his body quaked with a sick mixture of terror and relief. Nausea churned stickily in his stomach as he fought an ugly little battle with himself.
He shouldn't have left Adrian there, alone, outnumbered. He was only doing what he was told, Adrian knew what he was doing. How could he have walked away? Why didn't he fight harder, push to stay, or to have Adrian come back too? It was safe here, he was safe here, locked up tight behind sturdy, reassuring walls. He'd go back, now, right now, and make sure that Adrian was alright. He couldn't bear the thought of facing the cruelty and violence of the other boys, just couldn't bear it.
Exhausted from the ordeal, Newt's fatigue eventually overcame his shock and fear, and he calmed enough to push himself to his feet. Staggering in the darkness, he felt his way over to the table, running his hand over the rough surface until he came across a book of matches. He sparked one to life, unsteadily lighting a candle and filling the room with a soft, soothing glow. Emotionally torn up, indecisive, drained, he bypassed the couch and dropped on the bed instead, forlornly looking for any shred of comfort he could find. He kicked off his shoes and curled up in the middle of the mattress, pulling the blanket up and over himself, burying his head, breathing in the reassuring scent. Feeling useless, despairing of his cowardice, he curled into a tight ball. Alone, he let the tears that had been threatening all night fall freely, sobbing silently as potential outcomes from the confrontation played in horribly clear detail in his mind. Sliding an arm up under the pillow, he felt his skin brush against a small metal object.
Grabbing the music player he briskly stuffed the little buds in his ears, pressing buttons at random until he found the one that turned the machine on. Music filled his head instantly.
He wears his heart
safety pinned to his backpack
His backpack is all that he knows
Shot down by strangers
whose glances can cripple
the heart and devour the soul
All alone he turns to stone
while holding his breath half to death
Terrified of whats inside
to save his life he crawls
like a worm from a bird
crawls like a worm from a bird
Out of his mind away
pushes him whispering
must have been out of his mind
mid-day delusions of pushing this out of his head
maybe out of his mind
Sick, ashamed of himself, afraid for Adrian, Newt cried himself to sleep.
Adrian watched the bound boys with a distinctly predatory gleam in his eyes. Every inch of him screamed for violent retribution, and he held on to his composure by the very tips of his fingers. He stood directly in front of Wes, looking the greasy creep right in the eye as he struggled to dig out the patience he needed. Wes's face was rapidly losing the pallor of shock, and angry red flush worked its way up his neck as he sneered at the man.
"Let's not mince words here. Who of you had a go at the kid the other day?"
Wes smirked maliciously, sealing his lips tight and refusing to answer. Adrian waited, more than willing to match his tenacity against the boy's attempt at resistance.
"I've got all night to get an answer. The longer you screw around, the more you irritate me. It may be in your best interest to cooperate."
He heard a shifting off to his right; someone shuffling their feet as they contemplated the man's word. Wes remained silent, but after another long tense moment, one of the others spoke out.
"We all did, okay? We all got a turn with him."
Adrian turned, noting that it was the dark skinned boy who'd offered that information. Moving over to him, he tried to ignore the little spurt of satisfaction when the boy shrank away from him in fear.
"Name."
"Ric. I'm Ric."
"Okay Ric. And what exactly did you do when it was 'you're turn' with the kid?"
"Used him to...get off." Ric mumbled, hanging his head, his words oozing embarrassment.
"How long have you been doing this?" Adrian asked coldly. "How often to you get together?"
"A couple times a month, we...borrow someone...and..."
"So, just to make sure I have this perfectly clear." Adrian stated, his tone Arctic cold. "Two or three times a month you cockroaches get hold of someone, bring him out to the privacy of the bush, and rape the snot out of him. Just to break up the monotony of getting yourself off. Does that sound right?"
"We never raped him! We never raped anyone!" Ric cried out in shock, struggling against his bonds. Doug and the other boy shouted denials as well, while Wes remained smugly silent, trying to look bored with the whole situation.
"Rubbing up against someone to get off is one thing, I'd NEVER actually...actually put my..." Ric shuddered, fear and revulsion clear on his face. The other two showed similar expressions, voicing their disgust at the idea. Adrian stepped away, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he reevaluated the circumstances. A lifetime of seeking knowledge had left him with a very well developed and sensitive intuition; he knew the truth when he heard it. Keeping his back to them, he followed the gut feeling that was growing stronger and stronger.
"Why do you use Newt?"
"We used to use this other kid, Eric, but he just couldn't hack it here, couldn't take being trapped by the maze. Out of the blue, he just...killed himself...six or eight months ago."
"Out of the blue, sure." Adrian murmured, turning and wandering back to the leader of the group.
"Care to enlighten me as to your role in this little farce?" Adrian asked drily, arching a brow at the still defiant leader. Wes snorted, fear gone, apparently unable to resist a chance to twist the metaphorical knife.
"Eric was a nice tight piece of ass. Knew when to shut up, didn't put up a fuss. Just did what he was told like a good boy. You can't blame me if the little bastard went postal and hung himself. Him and Newt were close, so naturally pretty little Newtie is the one to take his place. He wasn't bad, but he definitely lacks enthusiasm. Maybe he'll put more into it for you, now that I've warmed him up for ya."
Fitting the known pieces into place things instantly became crystal clear. He smiled with what the others might have mistaken for cheer and spoke, sarcasm blending into matter of fact surety that left everyone speechless.
"Thank you for being so helpful. It's helpful to know that there's only ONE rapist among you. And that his acts drove someone else to suicide. Where I come from, there's a very clear, very permanent punishment for anyone who forces their body on another person." Adrian drew his knife, stabbing it into the bark above Wes's head as the others watched in open-mouth shock and horror.
He grabbed the boy's sleeve and jerked abruptly, tearing off a sizable chunk of fabric which he quickly stuffed in Wes's mouth, gagging him. The cloth smothered grumbles turned instantly to muffled shrieks as Adrian efficiently unzipped the boy's pants, plunging a hand inside and pulling the offensive member out of the opening. Without breaking eye contact, Adrian tugged the last piece of twine out of his pocket and wrapped it twice around the shaft he held, right at the pelvis wall, crossing the two loose ends and tying them viciously tight. Wes let out a sound like a whistling kettle, his face turning a sickly grey color. Still staring into those terrified eyes, Adrian reached up and tugged the blade loose from the wood, bringing it down into Wes's line of sight. The other boys gasped and babbled, scared witless at the events unfolding in front of them.
"A very permanent punishment, indeed.
Alby was no idiot. Although he'd only been leader for a couple of months he took the position very seriously, and felt reasonably confident that there was little that happened in his glade that he didn't know about. As he did his customary last walk around before turning in, Alby did some long, hard thinking on the newest member of the glade, running his hand back and forth over the bow he always slung over his shoulder on his night rambles. Something was going on, and Adrian was smack dab in the middle of it. He intended to suss out exactly what it was.
It wasn't the creation and refining of an outhouse that had him keeping the three 'sissy boys' (as the others called them) all week. He knew the facility was finished and in use; he'd made a point of wandering by one afternoon a few days ago to check on the progress. He'd found a polished, welcoming space to attend to personal need, but there was no sign of Adrian or any of the other three.
Then there was Newt. It wasn't just a fall or a simple injury that inspired Adrian to let Newt sleep over at his place for an extended time, not when there was a perfectly good med-hut where the runner could crash while he healed. And why had Adrian refused to allow Jeff to carry on Newt's treatment? Wasn't he supposed to be training Jeff, showing him how to address different issues on his own? When he'd casually asked the med jack for an update two days after he'd had to haul his friend in, Jeff had admitted that he hadn't seen or treated Newt at all. He'd gone so far as to get a little defensive, pointing out that he was still very much learning and Adrian probably felt a more experienced hand was better, in this case.
Why the secrecy? What had happened to Newt, that Adrian didn't want Jeff seeing? Why did Newt not want to go to the med hut in the first place, when he and Adrian seemed so chummy?
No, Alby was no idiot.
Suspicions and theories aside, Alby didn't have the answers yet. But, he was determined to find them, and prepared to make the necessary decisions, take the necessary actions when he did.
Scowling as he thought, he turned the last corner of his patrol and started back towards his bed, only to have a frantically running body barrel into him. He shoved the flailing body off him, cursing as he jumped to his feet, swinging his bow around and getting ready to fire. Recognizing his attacker, he hissed out a breath.
"Shucking slinthead! What the hell was that for?"
"You have to come! You have to come! He's going to kill him! OhGodOhGodOhGod, he's going to kill him!" The words tumbled out in a broken heaving whisper.
"Jim, for God's sake, calm down. What's going on?"
"He's got Wes, he's got Wes in the woods. He's got a knife. We were just messing around, but he's going to kill him! You've got to come!" The boy turned and fled back the way he'd come, crashing through the thickening underbrush and off into the night.
Alby hurried after him, hurdling logs and pushing hard until he caught up to the panicked boy.
"Who's got him, Jim? Who is it?"
"It's Adrian!"
Alby frowned grimly, picking up his pace even more.
Adrian was right at the heart of the trouble again.
No, Alby was no idiot.
The flickering glow of firelight became visible through the tight growth of trees, and Alby knew they were close. Muscles tight, braced for the worst, Alby pushed through a tall clump of ferns and stepped into the small circle of light just as a gut-wrenching, high pitched animalistic scream split the night. Throat tight, Alby knocked an arrow and aimed it at the man's back, his fingers quivering and ready to let fly.
"Turn around slowly, Adrian, and tell me what the shucking hell is going on here." The order was low and sharp, and Alby didn't take his eyes off the man.
Adrian did as he was bade, his expression calm and unreadable. The knife in his right hand was smeared with a dripping red, drops and spatters marred the front of his shirt. Clearly visible in his left hand was a still dripping chunk of flesh. Adrian held it up to show what it was, and Alby stumbled back a step, his dinner greasily sliding back up his throat as he saw Wes, tied to a tree, with a growing red stain blossoming on his trousers. Right where his junk should be. Adrian just stood and waited silently. Alby heard Jim throwing up loudly beside him, though it all sounded tinny and far away. He swallowed a couple of times, keeping his hands steady from sheer force of will.
"Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you, right here, right now, for what you've done."
"I'll give you more than one." Adrian replied, equably. "This pack of boys, by their own admission, has been hunting and molesting other gladers for as long as you've been here, forcing their bodies on others without consent. In addition, their fearless leader took things one step further. He did, in fact, commit brutal rape upon a boy currently in this glade. He is also guilty of the same crime on another boy, one who apparently decided to take his own life, rather than live with the horror being visited upon him by this repulsive creature." Adrian lifted the severed member once more, showing it to all present, before tossing it carelessly into the flames he'd started. It snapped and popped as it caught fire.
Alby was beginning to feel sick in a whole different way; he looked at each tied boy in turn in an attempt to see for himself. No one met his eyes. No one but Adrian, who waited patiently until he'd shifted his gaze back. Everything fit, and the whispers and doubts he'd felt for months suddenly took on substance. He could hear the clear conviction and bald honestly in the man's voice, but he was still the leader, and he had a job to do.
"That is a really serious accusation. What proof do you have?"
"I happened to come upon this group tonight, catching them in the middle of another of their 'conquests'. With my own eyes, with my own ears, I witnessed this. Wes, here, taunted their intended with the name of their last favourite, a boy called 'Eric'. They were deciding who got to 'go first' when I stepped in, took charge of the situation, and let the victim go. Each confirmed their role in this disgusting little game. As his crime is the greatest, Wes justifiably receives the harshest retribution for his acts, and it will be carried out, here and now."
Alby digested that for a minute.
"Guilty or not, it is not your place to decide his punishment." He tried to believe the words.
"It is my right." Adrian snarled, his composure breaking for the first time. "I treated his victim, seeing the ugly truth of the pain Wes inflicted upon him. I looked into that haunted face, and swore that I'd never allow this to happen again." Alby's eyes darkened and he felt a deep, penetrating cold grip him as understanding rolled through him. "I promised you, the first time we spoke, that I would do everything – everything – I could to make life better here. I claim his life as my right. I will do this to ensure the safety of those this monster preys on. I will do this to protect every boy in this glade. I will do this," Adrian said softly, "so that you don't have to bear this burden. I will bloody my hands, Alby, so that you, a good man, don't have to try and live with what happens tonight."
Alby turned his head to the side, breathing slowly as he absorbed the whole atrocious situation. He looked down at Jim, still on his hands and knees, trying to spit the taste of sick out of his mouth.
"Were you part of this, Jim?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm –"
"Were you part of this?"
"Yes! Yes, but, but no one ever got hurt! It was just fun and games! No one got hurt!"
Alby aimed his arrow at Jim's head, cutting off his jabbering with a hard, angry stare. The selfish, self serving justification smothered the last spark of doubt inside him. His distress and consternation over the brutality Adrian's 'justice' hardened into brittle conviction. His words were harsh, cold, and acerbic.
"You're as guilty as the rest, and have earned whatever comes next. Adrian, I, Alby, leader of this glade, give you full permission to enact whatever sentence you deem fit."
Jim cried and begged as Adrian stepped up behind him, tying his hands tightly behind his back. Alby looked at the man, a frigid rage on his face.
"What do you need me to do?"
While Alby kept watch, Adrian unbound the three other henchmen from their respective trees and forced them to sit in a line on the ground beside Jim, leaving their hands tied behind their back and positioning them so that the were only a dozen feet away from where Wes still sagged against his restraints. The furious leader was in charge of keeping them in place, making sure they didn't try to run.
Once they were in position Adrian stopped beside Alby for a moment, speaking quietly in his ear.
"Strong stomach or not, you might not want to watch this."
He walked over to Wes, standing at his side and staring deep into the eyes of his horrified audience.
"You are going to watch. Your crimes are lesser, so you will not suffer what Wes will suffer now, but you will watch. And you will remember the consequences of his actions, should you ever consider following in his footsteps. Tonight, I am judge, jury, and executioner. And you will watch."
Turning back to the condemned boy, Adrian lifted his knife and placed the tip lightly at the bottom of Wes's ribcage, putting just enough pressure on the blade to prick the skin. He looked into the sallow, twisted face of a boy who found pleasure in tearing others apart. Tears and snot formed glistening rivers down his face as Wes gibbered incoherently around the slap dash gag. Wes started to scream as Adrian increased the pressure on the knife, gauging his strength and carefully controlling the depth, drawing it downward in one long, slow, deep slice. Pulling the blade free with an awful sucking pop, Adrian stepped away so that everyone had a clear view. Screaming, screaming, screaming against the gag, Wes writhed and jerked against the rope as his intestines greasily slopped out of his body and onto the forest floor.
All four captive boys lurched forward and vomited, choking and sobbing at the gruesome sight.
Alby had fixed his eyes on the tree trunk above Wes's head once the boy had started screaming, disparaging his own reaction but not quite willing to watch the grisly spectacle. When the man moved to the side, Alby turned and locked eyes with them, holding the gaze with both righteousness and sorrow.
It takes a long time for someone to die of disembowelment. Adrian waited, biding his time while the screams grew fainter and fainter. After about ten minutes the four traumatized boys were finished being sick; they huddled in a miserable little group, whimpering occasionally. Wes's shrieks had turned into feral groans and whimpers and Adrian decided that the boy suffered enough; perhaps a little mercy was in order.
Lifting Wes's head by the hair, he placed the tip of his knife against one of his tear ducts and jabbed quickly, piercing the boy's brain and instantly ending his suffering.
Wes's debt of pain had been paid, in full.
Author's note~ The song in this chapter is The Bird and the Worm by The Used
~Ruby