Keep your eyes low. Keep your body still. Look pretty. Don't say a word.
He kept his eyes on the floor. He saw five pairs of feet surrounding him.
Craig's choice is obvious. He struggles to walk to his so-called master, who is in reality his friend. They're Craig's friends... his friends? Were they Kenny's friends? He doesn't know. Doesn't remember. But they're here to save him all the same.
"42..." he hears Master's voice. His stomach knots. He clutches his belly as he feels something squelch from inside. It hurt; he bites his lip and silences a whimper of pain. "It's time for you to choose. Look up, my love."
He doesn't move his eyes. He's paralyzed. He can't move; he doesn't know what to do. How is this his decision? How can this be happening? What if he makes the wrong choice? What will Master do if he disobeys him- or obeys him, for that matter? This shouldn't be happening now. Not when he is supposed to die.
"42," he hears an unfamiliar Russian voice, "this is your choice to make. Take your time."
His mind is swirling; he feels nauseous. This can't be happening. He doesn't want to do this; he just wants to die.
No reckless eyeballing. Keep your eyes low. Don't show your fear. They'll know.
But he wasn't scared, not anymore. He was just done. This was when he would roll over and submit defeat. But neither of them were going to let him. Master was going to hurt him for this.
Don't say a word. Don't move a muscle. You have no voice. You have no choice. You think this is up to you? You're nothing. You're worthless. Don't say a thing.
Hush now.
Everything will be okay.
Hush now.
This isn't your cross to bear.
This was just their game. They were waiting for him to finally break his stare, to mess up or make a decision. It was all on him but at the end of the day someone was taking him. He wasn't leaving on his own. Even if Craig said he would be free; he never would be. Not really. Not until he fell into permanent sleep. And he just wants to be free. That's all he wants- his freedom. He just has to be patient.
Patience; his mind flickers to that little baby girl he cradled in his arms. He could hear 41's- Oksana's- quiet, sleepy laugh as he hummed the infant to sleep after her feeding. Patience. He hopes she got out alive. He didn't do as Oksana asked him- he can't make sure she's okay. He closes his eyes and feels them burn.
"Master?" He asks; his voice trembles with emotion. His eyes are still on the ground.
"Yes, my love," his stomach flutters. He sounds so kind.
"Who am I?" He is afraid when he sees Master step forward. But his feet stop; he doesn't want to be hurt anymore. His toe doesn't feel real in his hands.
"Nobody," is the answer he receives. To Master he is nothing. No one. He is just another number, another person to hurt and rape and torture. Another person to twist and corrupt until they don't remember they are more than him. Seven years ago... seven years ago he was someone. Someone extravagant. Someone he can't even comprehend. But he has to be him; Craig knows the song. Craig knows Oksana.
"Sire?" He addresses the Russian now. If he is truly a friend of Craig he'll know how he will answer. He's testing them.
But they have to be careful; Master is already suspicious. There are too many guards in here. He wonders if they know what is happening.
"Yes?" He hears the deep voice; it's unsettling. It doesn't make him feel safe; not like Craig. Not like the man who bought him and hugged him. Not like the pizza man, who called him Kenny McCormick.
The pizza man knows him too. He... he called him by the same name. This can't be a lie; they may have known each other but there is no way they could have worked together to find him. They couldn't have sought him out to plant the idea in his brain that he was someone- when in reality they will use him as nothing more than a glorified sex toy.
"Who am I?"
He is scared to ask. His answer is everything he needs to make his decision. He feels jumpy; his heart is erratic in his chest. His head is swimming. He's sweaty. He wants to run. Suddenly his legs feel restless. The door isn't too far away... maybe... he mentally shakes his head. There are too many guards. But the window... no one is ever by the window.
"You are more than you know, baiat bun."
Baiat bun. He knows what that means. Good boy.
"That's Romanian, not Russian, am I correct?" He hears Master ask. He knows. He knows.
"It is. It means "good boy"."
Good boy. Be a good boy. Don't say a word. Don't move.
Look up. Look into the eyes of your master.
He lifts his head; his shoulders and body convulse as if he is prying his body apart. He stares straight ahead.
Tears burn his eyes and he sniffles; he can't cry. His vision blurs.
Through his peripherals he sees someone else staring at him in shock. Someone with blonde hair.
The pizza man. The pizza man is here with them too.
He's in on this, isn't he?
It was all just a plan to make him think they cared.
"42," he hears Master's laugh. He keeps his eyes locked. "Stop playing games." His body tenses.
"I can say the same to all of you," he says in a quivering voice. "I've made my choice."
He stares out the window, into the darkness. The moon is bright and fat in the sky; it's beautiful and cold. The sky is clear; navy blue and black like the bruises on his skin. He is the night. Cold and desolate. He sees the outline of buildings across from him. Sees the balcony outside of the room.
"Your choice is a window."
"My choice is freedom."
Everyone is silent, he feels their eyes on him as if they have picked their piece of meat to share.
"I am someone. I am more than I know, more than you know. And I am tired. I wear no chains. I wear your scars. They keep me here, not your loyalty. Not your love. And I will not be a prize. I am a human. I just want to be free."
The Russian is silent. They all are. But Master and his guards laugh as if this is the funniest thing they have ever heard. The Russian and his assistant fumble to laugh along with them. They don't want to. He feels Craig's dark eyes on him. And the pizza man's. They know.
"There you are with your ideas again, 42. You will never be free. You come with me and I'll kill you as soon as you get downstairs. You go with them and they'll toss you out. You're rotten. You're worthless. This entire night was worthless."
"SHUT UP!" He screams and closes his eyes. "SHUT UP!"
His voice rings in the air. He hears the click of a gun.
"42, I would-"
"Do not call me that, I am not just your inventory. My name is Kenny McCormick. You stole me."
"Sounds like you learned a lot tonight, didn't you?" He freezes. Slowly he glances to Craig; sees the horror in his eyes.
Then he realizes what he has just done.
He's smoked them out.
He gave them away.
He fell right into the game that Master was playing.
"N-no..." he whimpers, the tears finally leak from his eyes. "N-no, I didn't m-mean..."
Master steps forward; he freezes. But he walks right passed him; except not without throwing him to the ground. He yelps and clutches his stomach- feels the burning ache roar through his body.
"Who are you?" Master asks Craig, who remains silent. "Answer me." He remains tight-lipped. "You think I wasn't on to you three? No one has ever heard of Clyde Donovan, except the nurse at Denver General. He looks a lot like you, you know."
The Russian is a nurse. He keeps his eyes on his stomach, sees the large bruise that has taken away the pallid pigment in his skin.
"And you," he presses the gun to Craig's temple, Craig closes his eyes. "I used you as an example. Show your buddies here just what I'll do. But I was nice, I was gentle. Now, tell me who you are."
"We're..." the pizza man finally speaks up. "We're his friends. We just want to take him home. Kenny was my best friend. I miss him. We have the money, we just want to take him home..."
His best friend. The pizza man was his best friend?
He has friends; those are them, right before him. Seven years and here they are. And he's put them in a fight for their lives. He's a terrible friend. He shouldn't have spoken. He knows the rules. He shouldn't have said a word.
"Aww," oh no. He knows that voice. There's going to be blood soon. He clutches his stomach, "you think I haven't seen this before? Families, friends... trying to take my property?"
"You're going to kill him anyway. Why not just save you the mess?"
He is nothing more than a mess. He messed everything up. He sold them out. He closes his eyes; the tears fall.
"Because he is mine."
A gunshot is heard. He jumps at the noise, however faint it is. Master has a silencer. No one will hear a thing outside.
He looks up to catch the surprise on Craig's face. His eyes are pained.
No.
Craig's body crumples to the floor.
The man who bought him pulls out his own gun; the pizza man and the nurse are on the ground. The pizza man is pushing against Craig's chest as the nurse has his hands on his wrist.
"If you take one of mine, I take one of yours. That's how this works, isn't it?"
"B-but..." he crawls over to Craig and lets out an agonizing sob as the nurse pulls his hands from him. "B-but Master!" He finally bursts, "w-what if I chose you?"
"Does it matter?"
"You were going to marry me... you were going to make love to me..."
"Oh, my sweet boy, until death do us part." He sees Craig's finger conspicuously tap on his jeans. Three times, repeatedly. There was a rhythm.
He's alive. He wants to smile.
"Keep talking," the nurse whispers to him, "we're getting you out of here."
But he wants the window.
But he wants his friends, or these people, to get out of here alive.
"Master, how will I die?" he asks, looking up at the man he is forced to love. His mind is tormented; he doesn't know whether he loves him or wants to kill him. Maybe it's both.
"Like 40."
He whimpers and shakes his head. Don't die like 40. Don't be like 40.
"Except I'll fuck you while I do it."
"And what if I go with them?"
"I'll kill you anyway."
He wants to die. But not at the hands of his master. Not at the hands of the man who took his childhood, his past, present, and future. Not at the hands of the man who ruined him. He wants to die on his own terms. By himself.
"And none of your friends will be able to say a word," a shiver runs down his spine. "Do you really think they're your friends? That they're not just going to kill you? Or sell you?"
"Why, because that's what you did? Because you lied to me... you and Jonny. You told me I was going to be someone."
"Your faith in me is beautiful. Have you made your choice?"
"I already made my choice. I chose my freedom. And I don't need any of you to get it." Master laughs.
"You're mine, pet. Have you seen what I've done to you? Your brand makes you mine."
"It's just a scar. It's all just scars and bruises. I am someone, and you are not my master. I am my master... this is my life. I'll do whatever I want with it."
"So what's your choice?"
Kenny McCormick sighs. He has no clue who he is. He doesn't remember anything or any of these people. But he is Kenny McCormick. Craig's words run through his mind repeatedly.
"You," he stands up and stumbles to Master. "I know you're going to kill me." He can feel the confusion in the room. He can feel the disappointment. "That's all I want. I want my freedom. Like you said, my body is yours. I don't want my body anymore."
He wraps his arms around Master. Rests his head in his chest, presses a kiss over the fabric of his shirt. Master laughs and runs a hand through his hair as he kisses his arms, his hands, his legs, his feet. He kisses up his legs as he stands up, runs his hands over the back of Master's pants, and looks straight into his master's eyes.
"Holy shit," he hears the man who bought him exclaim when he opens his hand, the one that reached back into his pocket as he touched him from behind. A loving move, a submissive move. There is a blade in his hand; his hand is bleeding from being sliced.
Master laughs and puts his arm on his shoulder.
"You think you can kill me? You think I'm scared of a boy who can hardly lift himself up?"
He just laughs, he actually laughs. It hurts his voice. But he smiles; and as he does tears fall from his eyes. He hasn't smiled in so long. His laugh sounds wrong.
"Who said anything about killing you?"
He holds the blade to his neck. He swears he can feel his pulse against the metal. Master doesn't look surprised; he's daring him to slit his throat. He wants to; he is ready to swipe that knife through his neck. But his hand is paralyzed; he can't.
"K-Kenny," he hears the pizza man say, the name doesn't quite register with him. He isn't sure if he likes his name."Do-" his sentence goes interrupted. The doors burst open. Shots are fired. He covers his ears.
His eyes widen in horror as a SWAT team comes running through, guns poised. The guards shoot first. He covers his ears and feels tears stream down his face as he realizes what he has done. He hears muffled screaming.
Craig is taken by a second team. His head hangs limp. Everything is moving so fast. Three guards lay motionless on the ground. The Russian, the pizza man, and the man who bought him are all kneeling on the ground with their hands up. They each have identification on them.
Master's shout pierces through his covered ears. He turns and sees his arm has been shot. He's now thrown against the wall and pinned there.
This is all his fault. Everything is moving too fast and he can't comprehend what is going on. His home has been taken. Everything he knows is being uprooted, Master... Master is in handcuffs.
He realizes the screaming is him. But he can't stop. He's scared; he's terrified. He wants to run but he's paralyzed with fear. This is what Master told him to avoid. The police are going to get him. They are going to put him away. He is a whore. It's his fault. Master will hate him forever. Oh God, what is he supposed to do?
He puts his face on the ground. He lays down and covers his ears. He can't bear to hear the shouts, to see the blood and the bodies of the men who kept him captive. He can't stand to see Master's disappointment- his hatred.
Hands are on him; they touch him like Oksana did after the nights he was broken down to nothing. It's comforting. He smells perfume; it's sweet to his nose. He opens his eyes and expects to see Oksana... but he's met with long black hair and kind brown eyes. He whimpers and holds tighter to his ears; he doesn't want to be arrested. He wants to run. She's going to hurt him.
She smiles; she looks sad. She looks as if she's about to cry.
The three men who were going to buy him are talking to someone in a suit. They're taking notes. His Master isn't in here; none of the police are here any longer either. Everyone is gone.
Why is he still here?
"Kenny..." he hears her muffled voice. She puts her hands on his; he lets her pull them away.
"P-please, I-I.." he shivers and lets out a gasp as something practically bursts in his stomach. A cold sweat coats him. He feels drool around his mouth; he wipes it. His hand is stained with red. The woman's eyes are wide.
"Get the paramedics!" She cries; he covers his ears, "Kenny, Kenny, listen to me... you are safe. You're not in trouble, okay? We found you. You're going to the hospital. You're going to be okay... oh my God," she's shaking. "Kenny, we found you..."
He can't breathe. Everything hurts. There is a pressure on his lungs; he wants to rip them out. Each breath is a wheeze. She's crying.
"I-I'll do anything..." he forces, then groans in pain. Blood gurgles in his throat, "I-I'm sorry..." he coughs, blood spatters on her arm. Tears fall down his face.
"Don't apologize, it's not your fault. It's okay..." she's caressing his arm. He pants and looks into her eyes.
"I made a mess..." he glances at her arm, then all around them. "I-I... Master says..." she shakes her head.
"He is not your Master, you don't belong to anyone. You're free, you hear me? You're free. God, Kenny... you're beautiful." He feels a cough of a laugh escape him. She smiles and holds his hand. He squeezes. She wants to hug him, he can tell.
"I-I'm d-d-disgusting..." he replies, "I'm worthless."
If this is dying then it feels nice. He doesn't hurt anymore. He feels warm; he wonders if he's gone into shock. He's very comfortable. Sleep beckons him.
"No, no, you're not. You are so beautiful. You should see yourself, Kenny."
"W-who are you?" She smiles.
"My name is Wendy, we went to school together, I... I work with the Polaris Project." He whimpers; he can't breathe anymore. Blood sits in his throat. He rests his head on her leg and blinks lazily. "Stay with me, okay, just a little longer- fuck, where are they?!" She yells back to the field agent. Her hand runs through his hair. Like Oksana. He wants to see her again.
Will he see her? She was so good. Look at what he's done.
"Kenny?" He hears Oksana say. "Kenny, Kenny, no, no! Stay awake, stay with me!" He looks up at the sound of her voice. He doesn't see black hair anymore, or brown eyes. But there's a brunette girl next to him, with hazel eyes, smiling down at him. She puts her hand on his cheek. He smiles and fades into the comfort of sleep.
He is free.