Mr X.

[[Alrighty. Here you are folks. The end. I hope you liked it all, thank you all for reading and reviewing, this was written to AFI-Silver andd.]]d.]]

Darren attempted to continue his life. He was very happy with Richard, they lived together, and they where compatible, Richard’s band was beginning to succeed. Things where looking up, but slowly, their relationship became tensile. No matter how hard Darren tried to move on, it seemed Mr X, Carlos Sanguine, his torturer and captor but also it seemed in those last few hours his soul mate, refused to leave his mind. It was as if the dark eyed, dark haired, vicious creature that had captured him still held a claw like hold on his soul.

They had angry arguments, they accelerated to many things, but they always ended up in the same bed and with the peace of mind that the fact they fitted together perfectly was not coincidence, that they where made for one another. The less close-minded folk always agreed they made the most aesthetically pleasing and perfect couple possible, and many envied the at-ease nature between them. No one seemed to realise that it could fade swiftly when under any sort of pressure.

The TV flickered it’s artificial blue on them both. Darren felt very much in love, as he lay curled against the side of his other half. ‘I want to visit Carlos.’ The words he’d wanted to say for a while. The feeling of love faded slightly as Richard tensened.

‘The fuck… Why?! You’re fucking insane, you know dat? You get kidnapped by some psycho bastard and now you wanna visit him in the loony bin? I’m coming with you.’ It was a statement. Not a suggestion. Not an offer. A statement. Darren felt aggravation boiling within him.

‘No, Richard. You’re not coming with me. I’m going on my own. I have to do this. I have to see what’s happening with him. I need to… Put my mind at ease.’

‘You’re fucking obsessed! You talk about him at night, you bring him up when you’re awake, it’s like he’s…’ Richard paused. ‘It’s like you’re fuckin’ in love wit him or something fucking stupid like that Darren. Please don’t tell me that’s the case.’

The silences between Darren and Richard where not slow. They where a relief. A moment of quiet before the real anger erupted, and it did. Richard ranted and raved, he paced, he kicked things, he asked why so many times Darren couldn’t tell when one why finished and another started.

Darren found himself curled on the couch for the rest of that night. His chest ached with the want to cry, but he didn’t. He rarely cried anymore. He knew in his mind however that he and Richard would never be the same again after this episode, or at least for the longest of times.

Darren glanced down at the visitor tag that he wore on his shirt. As he signed forms, he noticed no names above him. Carlos’ first and only visitor, and he would remain Carlos’ only visitor until he was released. The nurse sd atd at him and led him down to wait in the room where their encounter would take place. Butterflies seemed to fill his stomach completely. His heart was beating hard as he heard the door open, as he heard shuffling of feet. He stared as he saw Carlos. He was in a wheel chair, attached to it by handcuffs. Unable to move.

‘Hello, Darren.’ The voice was melodious, soft; it brought back strange and conflicting memories. ‘I’m surprised you’d visit, I was shocked when they told me I had a visitor all together,’ he remarked conversationally. He sounded almost normal; Darren mused with odd bemusement. ‘Still kinda quiet. Hey Nurse. I’d like it if you’d leave, please. What do you mean ‘no’?’ He watched as Carlos argued with blunt and blatant insistence. The Nurse left eventually, and they where left alone. Of course, this did not matter. Carlos could barely move.

‘How are you doing?’ The question was bland. Could have been foolish. But Carlos gave a wide grin, almost childish in it’s happiness.

‘Oh I’m doing way better. I have to do things like hypnotherapy and counselling a lot, like, every day. And I still have to stay in this stupid chair. For my own safety and everyone elses, they said. But guess what? I’m learning to write.’ Darren found himself smiling at the odd enthusiasm. This was a serial killer, a kidnapper, a rapist. Darren couldn’t hate him, but he was sure others did.

‘That’s really great, Carlos.’ Carlos’ smile seemed to fall down a notch to something less wired. He fidgeted a little in his chair a moment. The click of handcuff upon chair filled the air, and Darren glanced out of the barred up window, remembering when he’d tried to clamber to the roof.

‘Yeah. I’m the locked up one now, not you. It’s a bit different like this though, isn’t it?’ Darren merely nodded. ‘It’s not so bad here. I’m learning to be better. I know the things I did before are bad now.’ I’m sure that will make all the left behind families feel better, Darren mused bitterly for a moment. ‘Don’t hate on me Darren. If you’re comin’ here to hate on me, I’ll just tell them not to let you visit at all.’ Still the uncanny ability to answer someone’s thoughts. Darren simply smiled and nodded. He reached across the table and took a cuffed hand, smiled as fingers curled around his.

‘I don’t hate you. This is just all very odd.’ Carlos nodded in agreement as the door opened and they where told their time was up. Darren’s grip reclined reluctantly with a promise that he’d visit tomorrow, and as he walked out into the sun, listened to the birds singing, he knew that he really had to be insane.

-Fin-.