-picks up all the fresh tomatoes and strawberries- Looks like I can make quite a healthy living just by posting cliffhangers... thanks for your reviews :)!

Please note: This chapter contains some violence and references to adult situations.

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Chapter 15

There was pain when Trip woke up. His mind was only gradually surfacing from the darkness where it seemed to have lingered for a while, and at first, he couldn't make out where the pain was localized. As he became more aware of his surroundings, it slid into focus until it had narrowed down to a stinging burn in his left upper arm. A burn like a needle piercing his skin.

He opened his eyes and was greeted by blinding light, a thing that had happened before. The light in itself was not frightening, but he had come to associate it with... images, which seemed to be lurking somewhere deep down in his subconscious, and those images did frighten him. He tried to move and the pain intensified for a short moment before it was suddenly gone, as if the needle had been withdrawn.

"Wakey wakey, Trippy boy."

Trip tensed. His eyes were getting used to the light, but he would have recognized the owner of that voice even without seeing him. It was Lendon, holding an empty syringe in his hand. Obviously, the pricking pain in Trip's left arm had been real.

Trip's mouth was dry, and he had to swallow twice before he could speak. "What did you give me?"

Lendon smiled. "Oh, just a little somethin' to get you back with the living."

Trip tried to sit up, and found that he couldn't. He looked down at himself and saw that he was tied down, his wrists and ankles strapped down with padded leather cuffs that were fastened to the frame of the cot-like bed. Except for his boxers, his clothes were gone.

A sudden panic overcame him and he began to struggle against the restraints, hard enough so that the metal legs of the bed rattled against the floor.

Lendon laughed. "You're cute, Trippy. Those were made to subdue the likes of Morris, and those big dumb oafs are the worst when they freak out. Ain't no way you'll break those things."

Trip stopped pulling at the cuffs. They were too tight, and he had noticed the look on Lendon's face as the nurse watched him struggle. There was amusement and mockery in his expression, which was expected if not exactly welcome. What unsettled Trip a lot more, though, was the tinge of dark excitement he had heard in the man's voice, and the way Lendon would not look away even for a second. Trip realized that in spite of his taunts, Lendon wanted him to fight, to offer resistance.

He lay still, his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious after the first injection, but it didn't feel as if it had been very long... a few hours at the most. Which meant that it was the middle of the night, and with Malcolm out cold on the floor of their room and Toby in the infirmary, there was no one who would notice that he was gone. Not until the morning shift.

Lendon must have read his thoughts on his face, for he laughed again. "Scared, Trippy boy?" Carelessly, he dropped the syringe onto the floor – Trip could hear it rolling over the tiles – and came closer to the bed. "Yeah, I can see that you are."

He sat down on the edge of the narrow cot. Trip flinched when the fabric of the nurse's uniform touched his skin, and tried to move away from Lendon as far as the restraints would allow it. The physical proximity of the man was repulsive, a feeling that intensified when Lendon's eyes traveled over his body at a leisurely pace, as if he were contemplating a particularly succulent slice of meat.

Lendon smiled lazily. "Your own fault, though. Should've kept your big mouth shut. But you don't do too well in that respect, do you, Trippy?"

Trip said nothing, and Lendon didn't seem to have expected an answer. "To be fair, though, you're not as boring as the rest of them." He mimicked a scared, squeaky voice as he continued. "'Yes, sir', 'of course, sir', 'right away, sir' - they're all like that. I've gotta admit, you got a little more spunk... and I like that."

He lifted a hand and, almost absentmindedly, trailed his fingers down Trip's bare chest and stomach. Trip tried to move away, his chest tight with anger and disgust. He would have loved to break every single one of those fingers, slowly, watching the pain bloom on Lendon's pale face.

"Fuck you."

Lendon grinned. "See, that's what I'm talkin' bout." His hand began to move further down. "Big mouth... you kinda remind me of my girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, that is. She'd talk like that when she was in a snit. 'Course, she only did it 'cause she knew it turns me on." He began to play with the waistband of Trip's boxers, slipping a finger underneath.

"What was her name?" Trip asked. He wasn't quite sure where the question had come from; he hadn't really been listening to Lendon as he tried to squirm away from the hateful touch. It was the right thing to say, though. Lendon's hand stopped, and he turned to look at Trip.

"Vanessa," he said. "Stupid little bitch. Thought I didn't know that she was seein' this asshole from her workplace on the side."

It vaguely registered with Trip that there was something akin to hurt in Lendon's voice.

"You dumped her?" he asked. Lendon's hand had not migrated any further south, and Trip bit the inside on his cheek as he faked interest in Lendon's answer.

"Yeah," the nurse said nonchalantly, but the expression in his eyes belied his words. "'Course I did. Wish I'd gotten my hands on the other guy, though."

He contemplated the idea while Trip didn't dare move, thinking hard and fast. His instinct was screaming at him to yank at the restraints, but he knew that it would be of no use. They were too tight, for one thing, and even if he did manage to pull free from one of the cuffs, he would still be in a very vulnerable position. Calling for help was not an option, either; at this time of the night, it was unlikely that anyone would hear him. And even if they did, well, no one opened the door to the padded cell (or its equivalent) just because the loony inside called for help.

"What about Vanessa?" he asked. "You two been together long before you split up?"

Lendon shrugged. "Not so long," he said. "I've never been one for long-term and all that shit."

Yeah, I bet. Trip tried to sound sympathetically interested. "Did you see her again, after, I mean?"

"No, I..." Lendon trailed off and his face changed, assuming the derisive half-grin Trip was so used to by now. "Oh, very clever, Trippy boy. Don't think you're gonna talk your way outta this one, though. We got all the time in the world."

His hand was back at the waistband of Trip's boxers, and this time he slipped it inside. Trip bit down harder on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood where his teeth were digging into the sensitive skin. No way he would give Lendon the additional satisfaction of struggling and squirming under his hand. He closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind elsewhere, pretending that there were no sweat slippery fingers fondling and exploring his most private places. Blood was running down the inside of his cheek and gathered on his tongue.

"You like that, huh?"

Trip opened his eyes again and found that Lendon was looking at him. The sallow face was flushed, Lendon's mouth half open as he were going to start drooling. Beneath the mockery, his voice held a layer of barely suppressed arousal.

"Tell me what you want."

The last question didn't sound like the threat he would have expected, rather like... a request? Trip considered Lendon's pale, narrow face that was twisted in a grimace of excitement, and for the first time realized that this man had to be one of the loneliest people he had ever met. And it was a self-made loneliness, which was maybe the worst kind of all. It hadn't taken long until Vanessa and her possible predecessors had found out what they were stuck with and moved on to something, someone better, leaving behind frustration, hurt and a desperate wish to control.

"I want you to keep your fuckin' hands off me," Trip said. A stab of cruel pleasure accompanied the words. He knew that somewhere in Lendon's warped mind, the man was waiting for him to say that yes, he liked it, and oh yes, go on please; all the things Vanessa was not going to say again and had possibly never said in the first place. "Or I swear I'm gonna puke all over you."

His answer had the intended effect. Reality intruded on Lendon's sweaty fumbling, and he stopped as if someone had slapped him. Anger and a brief flash of hurt flitted across the pale face before the sneering mask slipped back into place.

"Is that so." Lendon pulled his hand back, with an indifferent expression as if he had been planning to stop at this point all along. Then he suddenly whirled around and slapped Trip across the face. The blow was so hard and unexpected that Trip saw nothing but red darkness for a moment. Something warm trickled out of his mouth and he wasn't sure whether it was blood from where he had bit himself, or a fresh injury from the blow.

Lendon continued as if nothing had happened. "Too bad. I was gonna make this easy on you, Trippy boy, but you don't seem to get the message, do you? So I guess we gotta do things the hard way."

He reached into his pocket and brought out a small, lengthy object which Trip didn't recognize. Lendon hid it in his fist and held his curled hand up in front of Trip's face, who instinctively moved away.

Lendon smiled. "Not to worry, Trippy. I ain't gonna hurt you... much."

He moved his thumb, and suddenly a flash of silver jumped out of Lendon's closed hand. It was a blade. The sharp edge was only centimeters away from Trip's face.

"See this, Trippy?" Lendon turned the knife so that Trip could get a good look at it. "I wonder how it'd feel if I took that baby to your pretty face... or your balls. Would you like that, Trippy boy?"

Trip could not take his eyes off the knife, his white-faced reflection mirrored in the blade. There's no telling what he would and wouldn't do, Malcolm had said... what if he was right? What if Lendon had taken him here to do more than scare him a little and cop a quick feel? Trip had seen a few knives out there on the streets, and this one was clearly designed to kill.

"I s'pose you would like it, then," Lendon said and turned back to Trip's boxer shorts. "Quiverin' with anticipation as you are..."

"No!" His voice was no more than a frightened yelp, and there was still a part of his mind that hated himself for allowing Lendon to reduce him to begging. The greater part, however, was entirely focused on keeping his balls attached and in their accustomed place. "No, I... I wouldn't like that."

"Oh?" Lendon turned and smiled, knife in hand. "I'm afraid I didn't quite catch that."

Trip closed his eyes. "I wouldn't like it... please."

"Please what?"

"Please... sir."

"Okay then..."

Trip felt the cot move underneath him. Although he would have liked to keep his eyes closed, he couldn't help but look whether the knife was descending on his privates, after all. It wasn't. The gleaming blade hovered right in front of his eyes.

"Now listen, Trippy," Lendon said, and lowered his hand so that the sharp edge only just brushed over Trip's cheek. It was cold and left an unpleasant tingle on his skin. "You do as I say and no one needs to get hurt. If you don't, though..." The blade was lowered again, and this time it came down far enough to make a delicate cut across Trip's right cheekbone. He felt blood trickle down the side of his face like a tear. "If you don't, this is gonna be very unpleasant for you. You get what I'm sayin'?"

Eyes on the blade that now sported a drop of blood, Trip nodded. "Yeah."

"Good." Lendon withdrew his hand. "Nice we got an understanding here at last."

He reached back and began to fumble with the restraints on Trip's ankles. Trip wasn't sure what the nurse was up to, until he found to his immense surprise that his left ankle had been released. The right one followed shortly after.

Trip stared at Lendon, who met his eyes with a cold smile. "Don't even think about it, Tucker." He brought the knife to Trip's throat, pressing the blade into his skin. "I'm gonna untie your hands now, and if you move as much as a finger, I'm gonna cut your throat."

The knife dug deeper into his skin as Lendon reached over to release his right hand. Trip lay perfectly still even as the pressure on his wrist eased. Lendon was going to do it; he had seen the look in the man's eyes. There was no uncertainty in those eyes, or even a fleeting thought of the consequences if a patient was found in a pool of blood with his throat cut. In this very moment, all Lendon cared about was the here and now, the fact that for once he had absolute power over another human being.

"You know," Lendon said as he undid the left cuff, "I don't want you to go 'round thinkin' that I'm the kinda guy whose sex life consists of jerking off, like you lot. Got myself another one after Vanessa, of course... an' she pays the bills if nothin' else. The Cooke woman," he added when his ramblings were met with silence. "Does come in handy, sleepin' with your boss, and I like older chicks." He grinned and pushed the knife a little harder against Trip's throat. "Still, there are times when she can get a little... boring, y'know what I mean? And that's when I like to come here... no pun intended. Now turn over."

"No," Trip whispered. He was trembling with anger and yes, fear, his hands clutching the frame of the bed. "No way."

Lendon jerked the knife so that it nicked Trip's skin. "Way, Trippy boy. Way." He buried his left hand in Trip's hair and pulled him into a sitting position, the blade penetrating to deeper layers of skin as it was jostled in the movement. Trip couldn't quite suppress a pained grunt as fresh blood welled out of the cut.

Lendon had gotten to his feet. "Up you get!" he said and yanked at Trip's hair. Trip's eyes watered with pain as the knife made another cut into his skin. Any deeper, and... Blind with tears, he stumbled to his feet. Lendon let go of his hair and grabbed his left wrist from behind. Trip's shoulder bumped against the nurse's right arm in the process, and Lendon's hand with the knife was knocked to one side.

Trip didn't think. He moved, lunging forward and biting down as hard he could, not even sure which part of the hand he had caught between his teeth. Lendon screamed behind him and Trip realized that it was a thumb he was trying to maul, the thumb that was curled around the knife. His teeth dug deeper and he tasted blood, felt the hand unfurl and let go of the knife which hit the floor with a metallic clatter. Something cracked under his teeth, and Lendon screamed so loud that it hurt Trip's ears. The hand gripping his wrist was gone.

Trip screamed along with Lendon as he let go of the hand that was dripping with blood and saliva, whirled around and brought up his knee between Lendon's legs. The nurse's mouth opened, but no sound came out. He staggered back a step, collided with the edge of the bunk and fell down on it, his hands clutching his crotch. In the meantime, Trip's vision had cleared enough for him to make out a neat semicircle of teeth imprints on Lendon's right hand, which left red smears on the nurse's white uniform.

Lendon whimpered. "I'll... kill you..."

Shaking and dripping blood all over the tiled floor – blood and white tiles, this had happened before – Trip picked up the knife and held it in his trembling hand, pointing it at the man on the cot.

"You get any closer and..."

His voice failed, and he jerked the knife for emphasis as he slowly retreated to the door. Lendon was still doubled over in pain. "I'll... get you for this, Tucker."

Trip had reached the door and fumbled behind him for the opening latch. His fingers touched something cold and smooth, and he fingered the cool surface, searching for a button or a knob that would open the door.

Across the room, Lendon sneered. "D'you really think you can get outta here, you idiot? You need a-"

Lendon broke off. The door had opened, and Trip knew without looking that the person in the doorway was not one of Lendon's buddies who had helped to bring him here. He risked a glance over his shoulder. Nurse Owens was standing there, eyes wide as he took in the scene unfolding in front of him.

"What the fuck-"

It was as far as Owens got. Lendon got up from the bed and held up his bitten, bloodied hand as he limped towards the two of them.

"Careful, Mike, he's got a knife!"

Owens looked at Trip and blanched when he saw the knife in Trip's hand. "My God-"

Trip read on Owens face how he must look; a lunatic with a wild look on his face, blood on his lips and a deadly knife clutched in his hand, the nightmare of any psychiatric nurse. Slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements, he crouched down, his eyes on Owens' face. Scared and confused as he was, he knew that this was his only chance of getting out of this situation, of letting them know what had really happened. He let go of the knife, then slowly got back to his feet.

Owens seemed about to faint with relief. "S-stay where you are," he managed, and matching Trip's slow and careful movements stepped forward to pick up the weapon. There was a soft, metallic click as he folded the blade back into its sheath.

"Thank God," Lendon said with a convincing tremor in his voice. "Or rather, thank you, Mike. He was gonna kill me. Man, if you hadn't come when you did-"

Owens turned to look at him. "That's your knife, Paul, isn't it? It has your initials on it."

Lendon forced a smile. "Yeah, it's mine, he must've taken it when I wasn't lookin'. He suddenly got it out and... well, good job you came in when you did."

He reached for the knife, but Owens closed his hand around it. "Paul, you know we can't bring stuff like that in here."

Lendon's lips twitched. "Yeah well, I needed something to cut my lunch apple with. So sue me."

"Last time I checked, Tucker wasn't your lunch apple," Owens said.

Suddenly angry, Lendon thrusted his bleeding hand in Owens' face. "He bit me, see?! I was defendin' myself, goddammit!"

"You just said he suddenly got the knife out, so how come he has cuts all over his neck? Paul..."

Lendon narrowed his eyes at Owens. "You better shut up if you know what's good for you."

Owens stared at the other man for a long moment, then abruptly turned away. "Come," he said to Trip without really looking at him. "Let's get you to the infirmary. You might wanna get your hand looked after, too, Paul."

"Mike."

Owens looked back at Lendon, who was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. "Yeah?"

"My knife," Lendon said. "You forgot to give it back."

For a moment, Trip thought that Owens was going to refuse. The man's mouth curled in distaste, and he hesitated as if he wanted to say something.

"Now, Mike," Lendon said, and there was a hardness in his voice suggesting that he was not willing to take much more of this. "Or you know what."

Owens said nothing and simply tossed the knife to Lendon, who caught it casually with one hand and slipped it into his pocket.

"Thank you." He glanced at his injured hand. "I'd better find someone to have a look at that. God knows what I might catch."

Owens took Trip's arm. "Come on, let's go."

Lendon chuckled behind them. "Careful, Mike, if you wanna keep your limbs attached."

Owens ignored him and began to walk down the hallway, his fingers closed around Trip's arm hard enough to bruise. Trip wasn't sure whether it was Owen's frustration that needed a vent or his fear that Trip might suddenly turn berserk on him, and he didn't really care either. He didn't really care about anything anymore. The floor was cold under his feet and he shivered, wondering why they hadn't at least given him back his clothes before they dragged him down to the infirmary. Something warm tingled on his chest and he glanced down to find blood trickling down his bare chest. One of the cuts on his neck was bleeding again.

Blood on tiles...

Trip was no longer sure whether it was the world of his nightmares or this one that would eventually drive him insane.

TBC...

So... any more ideas what to do with Lendon? Please leave a review and let me know what you think?