Disclaimer: Dont own Drake and Josh, the lyrics to "Take the Pill" Belong to Emilie Autumn.
A/N: Thanks for the support everyone, it means alot to me. This chapter is a bit like a montage, to move through the first week without taking me a month to write it. I dont want the story to drag on or move too slow, though I am truly enjoying writing it. This entire story was inspired mostly by Emilie Autumns book, and this song in particular. It sparked the idea.
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Audrey lay awake, staring through the numbers on the alarm clock, waiting for it to begin screeching at her to get out of bed. She wasn't sure she'd slept at all, how could she? Drake had been missing for nearly two full days now, and she felt like her world was falling apart.
On que the alarm began to beep, slowly at first, her mind falling into the shrill steady beat as she stared at the numbers. Then it became a little bit louder, beating faster and more violently. Her tears rose anew with that chaotic beat. Her wounded heart beating at its pace as she tried to push away the terrorfiying thoughts that were rising in her mind.
With a shaking hand she turned off the alarm clock and let her head fall into her hands as she cried. She didnt know what else to do, and it made her feel like a terrible mother. She'd gone to the police, sure, but they hadnt found him. They didnt even have a lead, still trying to tell her that he'd probably just run away. She knew better then that.
Josh had been walking down the main streets of town all morning, hanging 'missing person' flyers everywhere they'd let him. He tried not to look at the picture of Drake on the flyer. He saw those happy, carefree eyes and felt his heart stop. For the entire week before Drake had gone missing he had been terrible to him. He wanted to apologize, for all of it.
He couldn't belive that Drake might have run away, that just wasnt like him. And he couldn't imagine who would have taken him, or why. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted his brother back, he wanted to apologize...
Josh hung the flyers until they were all gone. Staring down into his empty hands he felt tears in his eyes. Please, he begged silently. Please let him be okay...
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~Take the pill that makes you weaker. Take the pill that makes you sick.
Take the pill or you'll be sorry. Take this bloody pill and make it quick...~
They were woken up that morning as they had been the day before. The new day and all of its promise being forced into their routine. Drake streached away the sleep that was still clinging to him, feeling the cuts on his back scream in protest. He'd been up multiple times that night, vomiting into an old beat up bucket in the corner that he now carried in disgust to the bathroom.
He rinced and washed the bucket after they had all finished showering, then waited as Zane rebandaged his back. Only four of the hits had broken skin, a few of them deeply, the others more like paper cuts, but they all hurt.
They were marched toward the fold out table for the same breakfast they'd had the day before, eating like starved animals as the others watched. They washed their dishes, and lined up for their pills. Drake didnt want to take them again, he didnt want to be sick anymore. There were tears in his eyes aas Dustin held them out to him, as Benny cracked his knuckles threatningly.
He swallowed them, nearly choking on the sobs he was trying to keep locked within his throat.
He was assined the same room to clean as the day before. He knew that it was clean, that it couldn't have gotten dirt over night, but he cleaned it again anyway. Windows, shelves, tables and floors. Everytime he trew up he cried, feeling his body break under the weight of the pills and hunger. The dehydration again left him shaking.
He followed the routine from yesterday, doing everything as he had they day before, but this time, he didnt break a dish. He was more careful while drying them then he'd ever been with anything in his life. He didnt want to be hurt again, didnt want another dose of punishment cracked against his back.
He sat awake that night after they'd been locked up for the night, leaning over the old bucket as he vomited again and again. Zane sat beside him, rubbing his hand over his back, comforting him.
"How long until it stops?" Drake asked breathlessly.
"Within the first week or so." zane replied, his eyes heavy.
Drake closed his eyes as his stomach turned again, the last bits of dinner leaving his body. "I'm sorry..." he whispered, pulling his knees toward his chest and crying into them.
"It's okay," Zane said. "We know."
~Take the pill that kills your sex drive. Take the pill that makes you cry.
Take the pill that burns your insides. Take the pill that makes you want to die...~
Drake followed their routine without guidence that morning. His wounds were mostly healed, almost forgotten as he'd gotten used to them. He took his pills without hesitance, numbing himself to their taste and texture.
He looked around the clean foyer, trying to find a reason why he was cleaning it day after day. He rubbed his hands over the glass, leaving prints on it before wiping it clean. He tried to make even the smallest bit of mess on everything before polishing it again. It had to seem dirty for him to find purpose in the work. The things Damien had said were making sense to him now, about things being too clean, needing to be dirty.
He threw up less that day, and for that he was grateful. For the last few days his insides had felt like they were on fire, the pain of it so severre that he'd thought he'd pass out. At times it felt like his organs were being rearranged, pushed around roughly then kicked out of spite. His head pounded with a steady, consitant ache that made his eyes hurt.
He thought that he'd have so much more fight within him then he did, that he might stand up to his captors and get out of this. He'd planned out a hundred times how to fight them off and get away, do anything other then what he was made to... He was angry with himself for not doing anything, for not even trying. What could he do? He was always locked up or chained down, they were stonger then he was, and he was afraid...
The others had told him that the only way anyone ever got out was to die, but he didnt want to die, not like this. Not in this place. It was so tempting though, to just swallow a chemical or break a window and cut himself with the glass. To laugh at Brendon as his blood stained the rugs. Not to be controlled and used anymore.
He thought of home often, of his family. Desperatly holding on to the memories of them, as if he'd surly die without them. Somehow, someday, he would go home, he would be free. He would let his mom hug him for hours, until her warmth chased away the bad memories. He would make Josh see how sorry he was. He'd be a better brother, better son.
His favorite room to be locked within was the music room. as soon as he was sure he was alone he'd strum the strings of the lonly guitar, the feeling of something familier bringing him a sort of peace that he cherished. He would clean everything as fast as he could just so that he could hold it, playing the notes to his songs as queitly as possible.
~You no longer rule your body. You no longer own those rights. You will wake up when we say so. You will sleep when we shut out the lights...~
Every day the same routine wore him down, every night the same nightmares pulled at the sanity he was sure he was losing. He forced himself through the work he was given, the food that was presented. The same meals every morning and night. he didnt really taste the food anymore, the consistant flavors so constant upon his tastebuds that they no longer held any flavor to him. They were simply fuel to him now, a necesity that he devoured out of a pained need.
He'd asked the others if they ever got anything different and Richard had smacked him so hard his head had spun. He didnt question their meals now, just took them with spiteful gratitude.
That night they all layed awake, their stomachs crawling with fear as they waited for Damien to be brought back to their cell. He was suppossed to clean the upstairs entertainment room, and instead had broken down into tears. They all knew that he was being beaten, punished for that break in routine. They cried silenly as his screams echoed faintly through the house.
"Can't they give him a break..." Drake whispered as another cry fell upon them.
"They're monsters," Ash said through gritted teeth. "And Brendon is the fucking devil."
Zane sat on the cold floor beside damien's bed, his hands lightly touching the blanket as tears fell from his eyes. "he's just a kid, what do they expect?" Zane clenched the blanket within his hands, shaking his head. "Basterds..." he whispered.
It seemed like hours before Damion was dragged down the stairs, barly holding himself up as he was thrown back into the cell. There were countless tears in his wide eyes, blood and sweat clinging to the back of his shirt.
Ash was on his feet in moments, holding him up, trying to comfort him as he walked him over toward his bed.
"Get to sleep, all of you." Brent snapped. "Or you can all expect the same as he got."
Damien fell into a symphony of tears as Brent left the room, leaving them in darkness. Ash carefully pulled the ruined shirt from Damien's back, looking down upon the cuts and bruises with hate in his eyes.
"I'll kill them." It was a whispered promise.
Damien shook his head, fear for what would happen to Ash if he tried shining in his eyes. "It's okay." he lied through broken breathes. "I, I wanna sleep now...'
"We'll watch over you." Drake promised, sickened by what they had done to him.
Damien nodded, laying down carefully before crying himself to sleep.
Zane stayed on the floor beside the bed, holding Damien's hand even after he'd fallen asleep. Drake sat up in his bed, his eyes never leaving the sleeping boy as his labored breath echoed quietly against the walls. He didnt know how, but he wanted to keep that from ever happening to Damien again. From happening to all of them.
~Take the pill that keeps you quiet. Take the pill that keeps you blind. Take the pill that wipes your memory. Take the pill that's fucking with your mind...~
Drake was slowly loosing count of how long he'd been there, though he knew that first week must be close to over. He had all but stopped vomiting, the pills finally holding firlmly to him. He tried to remember his house, the layout and rooms, but all he saw where the parts of this house that he'd seen. The only thing he could remember fully were the faces of his family, and he held onto them tightly. As often as he could he thought of them, their voices. He couldn't loose them, wouldn't let them slip away.
In the tangle of tasks that he did everyday, he'd become more distracted with empty thoughts. It was hard to remember, to concentrate with the constant fear of punishment looming over him. Over and over he thought about Damien, the beating he'd gotten the other night had left him more distant then before. He was closing himself off, distancing himself from everything, from them. They were all worried, expecially Ash.
They were in the laundry room on drake's seventh day when Damien finally spoke again. it had been two days since he was beaten.
"They're preparring the entertainment room." he said quietly. He'd been cleaning it for the last three days.
The others nodded solumnly, leaving Drake confused. "What's that?"
Ash put the dirty clothes in the washer and turned toward Drake. "Why are you here?" he asked softly. "What made them take you?"
"Your talent." Zane said.
I'm a musicion," Drake said, remembering what it had been like to play his music. "I had a band, I play the guitar, I sing..."
"Every so often, Brendon has guests," Ash said bitterly. "After they all have dinner, we're chained up in the entertainment room, where we preform the tasks that caught Brendon's eyes. Depending on his mood, Brendon lets them spend time alone with us."
"If we preform badly, or do anything that upsets him, we're beaten in front of them while they laugh." Zane added.
"watch the starving artist suffer as he shares with you his passion..." Damien whispered. "take from him all that he once gave out of joy, and turn it into an empty motion."
Drake turned toward the dryer, taking out the clothes and folding them. "What do you guys do?" he asked. He'd wanted to ask them for days.
"I'm an artist," Zane said with a sad sile. "I paint mostly. All of the portraits in Brendon's office are mine."
"I was a fire preformer." Ash said with an old sence of pride. "Breathing it, juggleing it and spinning it... I'm only allowed LED balls now."
"I used to dance," Damien said sadly. "And write, but not anymore..." He sighed deeply, lost in another memory. "Never again do we live our dreams, we are slaves to them now. Trapped by their alluring nature and bound by their admirers."
Drake could see the sadness in all of them. Being locked up as they were, the tiring routine they lived by. Damien was right... The passions that the'd had were gone. Taken away except for when they were to be put on display. Would music be like that for him?
They were given their nightly dose of pills and put to bed early that night. Their routine would be broken tomorrow, as brendon wanted them all rested for the nights entertainment. Richard gave them an overly rehearsed speech on behavior before leaving them in the darkness, sneering at them as he left.
Drake couldn't sleep that night. He was nervous, even afraid of the upcoming day. Would he mess up and be punished? Would he have to see one of his friends hurt for any human mistake they might make? Damien was still a mess from the other night, and Drake was worried for him, they all were.
"Get some sleep." Ash said comfortingly. "You'll do fine."
"Thanks..." Drake said quietly, hoping that he was right.
~We've filled your prescription, you'll never run out again. We've filled your prescription, the drugs are your only friend...~