A/N: Welcome to my Febwhump 2024 collection! Decided to challenge myself this time and write for a fandom that could use some more whump. I know a few writers have previously used BTTF for whump challenges, and I'll do my best to ensure I don't write the same things as them!
Most of these will be based on scenes from the films simply as there isn't much other source material to base off - and yes, that means no animated series characters or scenarios will be mentioned. Be aware that there will be some coarse language (as it is a part of Marty's character) and graphic descriptions of violence/injuries.

Day 1 - Helpless
A/N: Things were definitely 'heavy' now. Marty's thoughts as he is hung by Tannen in Part III.

The rope bit painfully into his palms as he gripped it for dear life, the ground racing towards him at an unbelievable speed

He cringed as he was dragged through a collection of wooden slabs, screaming as individual splinters were thrust into his chest, some embedding themselves through the fabric of his shirt.

Stop stop stop stop!

Tannen's laughter rang faintly in his ears amongst the roar of the horses' hoofbeats. His torso dragged along the ground, the force of the friction burning into his chest. It felt as though he was sliding across the world's roughest rug.

Holy shit, this is gonna rip all my skin off!

He blinked furiously at the dirt that was continuously flung into his watery eyes. A few clumps being stirred up by the horses' hooves had somehow managed to enter his mouth, and he gagged on the foul gritty taste.

Oh please, God, please make it stop…

He scrunched his eyes shut, tucking his head between his arms. The lasso was digging into his armpits so tightly that it felt he was being pulled in half.

If only I'd had a damn skateboard, this would've turned out better…

Hang on, something feels different-

His trembling hands relaxed as he felt himself slowing down. He let his head sag, the agony coursing through his body beginning to dull slightly, only for it escalate as he finally stopped.

Oh, thank God…

He lay motionless for a few moments, panting as he tried to breathe through the pain. He couldn't even think of an analogy worth comparing it to; even his burns from the living room rug weren't this painful. He vaguely registered a small whine as being his own, and instantly turned red with shame. Come on, McFly, get a grip on yourself…Not like you just survived a near-death experience or anything.

While it would've only been seconds, it felt like an eternity before he decided to try extracting himself from the dirt. He leaned onto his right elbow and used his shaking left hand to push himself to his feet, feeling considerably dizzy as he rose.

He gazed down in amazement, realising the shoddy costume Doc had given him in 1955 was still intact, apart from a few stray threads and some impressive dirt stains. What sort of magic shit is this?…

"If we got ourselves a new courthouse, it's about time we had a hangin'!" Tannen roared. A chorus of whoops and cheers erupted from his fellow gang members.

Marty felt his blood turn to ice. Wait-

Even if he'd had the strength to fight off his oppressors, they operated so quickly that it felt as though it happened all at once. A second rope was expertly lassoed around his neck and immediately tightened. Shit, no no no no-

His fingers began to fumble uselessly at the noose, a strangled gasp escaping his throat as he felt his feet leave the ground.

No no no no no…!

He pulled against the rope with all the strength left in his battered body.

The pressure around his neck increased by the second.

His throat began closing over.

No! No no no, Doc, help!

His vision began to tunnel.

Doc, dammit, do something!

The wet, strangled croaks from his throat faded, as did the jeering taunts from Tannen.

Jennifer…

He felt the strength fading from his arms.

The tips of his fingers were beginning to unfurl from the rope.

It was tempting just to let go.

Let go.

His fingers fell.

…Mom…

For a moment, all he knew was blackness.

The ground suddenly appeared before him, and his eyes flew open.

He lay in an ungraceful heap in the dirt, wheezing as air finally entered his tortured body. The world around him was silent, apart from his desperate gasps for breath. The fire of the rope burn currently sizzling around his neck was nothing compared to the overwhelming relief of finding he was still alive.

"…off a dog at five hundred yards, Tannen! And it's pointed straight at your head!"

Hey I can hear again, that's nice-

Doc!

Holy crap!

Oh my God, Doc, you did it.

Marty's hand unconsciously went to his throat, hissing as he rubbed at the raw skin. It took a few blinks for his vision to start clearing up.

"So the way I see it, you owe me five dollars for the horse, and seventy-five dollars for the whiskey!" Tannen's shouts broke him from his daze.

Hang on…

I guess my brain still isn't working properly…

Seventy-five and five…

"That's the eighty dollars!" Marty thought aloud, cringing at the pain in his throat. Geez, I hope my voice isn't damaged…Sounds like I've smoked one too many packs-

"Well that's your problem, Tannen!" The aggression in Doc's voice brought him back to the present. Why the hell can't I focus? Did I get brain damaged already?

Choosing not to think too hard about it, the young man wearily gazed up at his saviour, glaring valiantly at Tannen with his suspiciously-futuristic rifle. I don't care what you think about drinking, Doc, but I am definitely buying you one after this.