Chapter 26

More Pain

So

Here I am standing here in this shitty hole talking to a damned hippy behind a counter. I slap the ten on the counter.

"Laura sent me."

And he just stares are me.

"Laura sent me." Tapping the ten. "Said I could get a room."

"I'm surprised." He slips the money off the counter and puts it into a small locked box.

"I'm cold. What's your point?"

"She sends a lot of people here. Not many make it. She called…said to expect you, but you know usually they take the money and get drugs."

I nod.

"Well you see I need boots. Someone mugged me for my prison issue foot ware and a used condom."

He stands up, leans over the counter and looks down at my black and blue dirty feet.

"Come with me." And with a sigh he lifts the hatch thing whatever the hell it is called and leads me out to another room…This room looks like a good will store…which in a way I guess it is. There are second hand clothes and boots piled up. "Ten bucks gets you a top…tail…and boots. Help yourself. Then come back out and find me."

I stand and look at the place and frown. "I don't need top and tail…just boots."

"Believe me…you need jeans and top mate…those clothes stink and won't survive a washing. Go help yourself…I'm not giving you change so don't hold back."

So I stink.

At least clean clothing will give me a better chance of getting more money. I eventually find some black jeans and a Tshirt. Also a pair of black boots. Then I go back to the reception area.

The guy is back behind the counter reading a news paper.

Damn…you know what…I'm just not used to this sort of situation. I'm feeling a bit lost….excuse me if I act out a bit.

"Great you found something." He folds up his paper and places it on the beige counter then points to a door. "Shower block. You get five minutes…soap is provided."

And I scratch at my ear and frown again. "I don't need a fucking show arsehole. I need a bed. She said I could have a bed."

"Well sugar…there is no way in hell I am letting your lice ridden stinking belligerent form into one of our beds….disinfect your self or get out."

Raised eyebrows at that comment. "Sugar?"

And his finger points to the showers. "If wash…change then come back…there are bins in there for your old clothing…we will recycle them."

"You want me to throw away a pair of Versace jeans?"

He's lighting up a smoke now. "No….I want you to throw away those rotting ripped rags you are wearing." He points to the showers again. "In there. Five minutes. Use the soap provided and I will know if you haven't."

"You going to check if my hands smell of soap?" I am half tuned now towards the showers.

"No…I will check to see if your arse does. Stop wasting my time will you?"

The showers are four separate cubicles. There is no one else around, but that really wouldn't have been too much of a problem. I strip off my clothes…and ok maybe he is right…just maybe they are beyond help now. It briefly occurs to me that I could just go home and pick up some stuff…but then I start to think of Spencer again…and I need to stop. It hurts my head too much thinking about him. So I turn on the water and there is a small electronic timer next to it giving me a countdown in minutes and seconds…

The water initially feels good….I soap up my hair which has begun to cover over properly where they hacked into my skull. I get soap in my eyes and it stings like fuck but that's ok…gives my eyes a good excuse to water while I rub the soap slowly over the rest of my body.

Then it happens…and it is so bloody sudden that I shout out…my feet suddenly get life back into them…and the pain is un- fucking- believable. I crouch down and start to rub at them with my hands but I can barely touch them. They are on fire and it feels like someone has taken a sledge hammer to them…I'm sure they are fucking broken…I've never felt anything quite like it…and yes I've felt pain so take that look off you face bitch.

The water has stopped and I am still there in the shower cubicle holding my feet and howling at the moon…I don't notice that someone has joined me.

"What the hell are you doing?"

It's the voice from the reception desk…I look up at him and give him a quick warning shake of the head. It's my 'fuck off and leave me alone' head shake…but I don't think he can read Flanders code yet.

"What's wrong?" and he touches my bare back.

"Unless you want to be butt fucked you keep your hands off me." I snarl at him…

The hand leaves my back and the guy moves away a bit. "I can get you some pain killers. If you need them…or are you tough enough to survive this?"

"Just leave me alone…give me a few minutes…I'll be fine." I turn so I can see him and I see that he is looking at the many marks and scars over my body. At the track marks on my arms. "Just five minutes." I say…and watch as he walks away again.

"When someone howls in pain you know it usually means they are hurting. Swallow some of that damned pride of yours and accept help." And he is gone.

And I am muttering curses at him under my breath because what I need no man can provide for me. It takes nearly half an hour before the pain goes and I can see with how my toes have turned a funny colour and it does bother me just slightly. I want to turn my stuff back on….I want to stop feeling this damned pain and stop feeling hungry and sick…but I cant. I can't do that cos I lost it….and this is how fucked up I am now.

I bet they find this really amusing…actually I wouldn't be surprised if they weren't part of it and were the instigators of my most recent loss…the bastards…

So now I smell of disinfectant…which is great on floors but not so great on Flanders. They clothes fit well…but for now I don't put the boots back on. I don't think my feet would take too kindly that.

At last the bloke shows me to a room. A single bed in a tiny space…but my own tiny space with a door even. The sheets aren't made of paper and the small lock is on my side not theirs. I am told to be out by eight….they will wake me…don't worry….don't break anything…and if I need the bathroom it's the end door down the hall. No one else is permitted in my room…no tricks…no drugs…no drink. Breakfast will be provided and for me a visit to the clinic…If I want the room for a second night I need to earn it….Cleaning or cooking whatever I have I can offer…not for cash, so don't go renting out for cash expecting a bed again…it wont happen.

With the door closed and the light off I lay on the top of the covers on the bed. It's not cold…some sort of heating under floor…

But yeah I lay there and touch myself and think of Spencer and what I want to do to him…what I would love to do to him…if I could…and I cant…and that damned soap is still making my eyes water.

-o-o-o-

Again I am up and awake before Aaron. I put on the coffee and then go and shower and stare at myself in the mirror. What is it about me which demands all this rubbish? I don't know. But from such a young age I was bullied and picked on.

I push up the sleeve on my blue bathrobe and look at my arms…then I take a fresh blade out of the cupboard and just check…it's important…I just check that I still bleed. If I can still bleed then I know I'm not dead….because sometimes I wonder. I throw the blade in the bin and cover it with some rubbish and pull my sleeves back down again…At least today I am still alive.

When I come out again feeling a bit better about life than the day before, Hotch is up and drinking coffee…he has obviously showered in his en suite – I can smell the shower gel on his skin and his hair is still damp. I walk over to him and smile and run my fingers through his hair pushing it back off his face…a quick 'good morning' kiss follows this and then a tight but contented smile.

"Spencer." He puts his hands on my shoulders and then pulls me close. "Please no games." He says the words into my ear and I can feel his hot breath over my skin.

"I promise."

"And a new television is arriving today…and hopefully someone to clean the mess."

I nod at him. "Don't worry…just go…I have a pile of graphic novels to wade through. I need to walk too…my chest feels – I don't know…tight I suppose is a good word for it."

Now he kisses me gently on the mouth…A proper…deep kiss…and I accept it.

I do have feelings for him…I do…I'm not playing him…I'm just confused over my needs and his needs and if they are at all compatible. I don't think they are.

And immediately he senses something is wrong. I can see in his eyes the worry and pain and anguish and I want to make it go away…but I can't and in a strange twisted kind of way it feels good.

I watch him go and close and lock the door and then retreat to my room and get dressed. Light brown cords and a long sleeved pinkish coloured shirt with a small pattern on it…and a brown sweater vest over the top. I slid one light brown and one dark brown sock on and then go to get coffee. I need to eat, but a search of the cupboards lets me know that today isn't the day to start. There just isn't anything there which appeals to me in the slightest. I grab some bread and contemplate toast, but change my mind and return it. So back to my room and I grab something to read, take four or five…maybe I will need six today…It feels tight and wrong somehow…so yes…a few painkillers and I go to the lounge and squish myself up in the chair and start to read….well look…

I spend a long time forcing my eyes over the pictures. Taking in the details. Comparing one drawing with the next…I force my brain to slow down and actually enjoy reading and looking at something for a change.

The phone rings mid morning… Hotch checking all is good…and I assure him it is.

"I need to go for a walk though…I'm waiting for the sleet to cut back a bit first." I tell him…and he is happy with that…and it is sort of comforting to have got the call.

At around mid day I get up for my fifth mug of coffee and the door bell goes. I put my empty mug back down on the green coaster and go to the door. I check to see who is there and someone is holding up some identification. The television people.

I slide the lock back and open the door to four guys with a big box. "Where do you want it?" I am asked and I point to the alcove where the old television had been….One of them closes the door while another mutters something about hooking it up for me…and another is asking what all the black mess is everywhere.

There is something wrong.

I don't know what it is but I can just feel something is not right. "I can hook it up." I say. "Just leave the box there." I turn to look at the guy at the door and see he has locked it. "I think I need to ask you gentlemen to leave."

I feel the hand on the back of my clothing and I turn quickly…I'm not hopeless…Derek showed me lots of ways to escape being held…but there are four of them and only one of me. My arms are grabbed and held behind my back by one. Another grabs my hair and pulls my head back.

"I thought the last beating we gave you would have been enough…but he didn't take the hint. Now we are going to have to hurt his little lady again."

And the fist is in my mouth…I feel my front teeth rattle and my lip split as I squirm and try to pull away…And I do….the guy holding my arms releases me and I make a quick moved away from them. One hand on my mouth and the other making my way slowly to where my gun is kept….

They don't let me get far…Another set of hands on me now…and I am pushed against the wall…but now my hands are free…I can fight back…

A punch to the side of my head I attempt to follow up with something of my own, but I am too easily blocked. A knee in my groin…and as I fold the other knee in my face and I'm on the floor and one kicks while the other stand silently by and watch.

"Don't kill him." Someone says. Oh joy…they don't want to beat me to death…I feel the cartilage in my nose give way and my breathing hurts…I need my pain killers…and I wonder if I hadn't taken so many if I wouldn't have been caught off guard so easily…

"Get up." They have stopped kicking me in the back and chest and face for a while…but get up? I don't think I can do that. "I said get up!" And hands in my hair pull my head up.

"I can't." And the talking brings on a blood filled coughing fit…

So a guy each side pulls me to my feet and drags me down the corridor to my room…where I am dropped back down to the floor and my coughing is allowed to continue.

"What – do – you want?" I manage to spit out, but I don't get an answer. Not the sort I wanted.

"Dirty little faggots will burn in hell. You know that don't you?" One of my hands is grabbed and hand cuffed to the pipe on the radiator. I just look at him. "You know that don't you…queer boy?" I don't answer him…

"Well you are going to burn in hell before you die…how does that sound?" I can hear the sound of something being poured out….not in my room…out down the hall. "Maybe your little lover boy will get the message this time?" I can see his eyes looking at something and a smile creep across his face. "Hold him still boys." But I writhe and wriggle and try to get them off me.

And again as I try to fight them off…I kick and with my free hand I punch and then decide scratching might be better…but they slap me away…stand on me…force my mouth open and empty my bottle of pills into my mouth. How many? I have no idea…But with the water they follow up with and the hand over my nose and mouth I have no option…I swallow…and slowly my fight leaves me. I stop thrashing ...I stop crying out in pain and I just lay on the floor and look at the ceiling.

I don't hear them leave…I don't hear the whooshing sound as the fluid is ignited…I just see the ceiling…

And it's ok

Everything will be ok…

And if not?

Well at least it won't hurt.

And my drool turns to pink bubbles as the first convulsion sets in.