Mr X.

[[Donnie Darko-Cellar door. Thank you for your kind reviews. Keep them coming, please.]]

Time seemed to stand still now. This moment ingrained upon the memory arrearren forever as his ribs ached, his eyes burnt, his face sore. He knew bruises where swelling, colouring hnce nce pristine skin, model skin even. The kind of skin that was envied by so many cursed with things such as freckles and acne. Now he wished he’d been ugly all his life over this. Mr X was sat seething, tense, his whole body heaving with each heavy, rasping breath. First he had been hyperventilating, seemingly overcome with rage. Now the breaths where slow, , ca, calculated. Darren was tied down again and he pondered if he’d ever be allowed up on his own again now. He hiccuped loudly.

‘Quiet!’ Mr X’s tone was harsh, and Darren silenced immediately. Things seemed so much worse with the silence. He found himself severely missing the strange, one sided conversation which usually flowed from Mr X to him, the crooning murder of that voice he’d grown accustomed to over the days he’d spent trapped in what had morphed from Hell Hole to not so very dreadful at all in those strange moments where he felt his mind was fading.

‘I’m sorry.’ The words left his mouth, frightened, choked, wavering. Mr X’s breath came out loud and long, a heavy sigh.

‘I got fired today. And now you do this. Why the fuck did you decide it would be a good idea to trash the place? You know who’s going to clean this shit up? You. Because I haven’t got the fucking time.’ Their conversation was like that betwe str stressed Mother and her disobedient teenager, or an abusive husband and his timid wife, strangely familiar in its anger.

‘I . I. I’m sorry. I just…’ Mr X silenced him with a shush. The air around them seemed to pulsate. The clock seemed not to tick. Time seemed thick, heavy and difficult, hard to swim through. ‘Why did you get fired?’ Mr X allowed himself a chuckle. The weight of time dissipated. Mr X stood, his body seemed to relax as much as it ever did.
ex ex Boss was being a fool.’ Darren felt his stomach drop. The words seemed foreboding, especially from a man with what seemed a million murders on his conscience, thousands of litres of blood on his hands, unwashed in his care free nature. Even now, Darren saw, with a loud swallow, those hands where stained red. ‘He’s not dead.’ Mr X answered to his thoughts. ‘I’m going to go wash my hands. You’re to stay here, since you’re utterly untrustworthy.’ His tone was hurt, and Darwas was suddenly hit with the ludicrous nature of the situation, and as Mr X wandered to the bathroom, and water began to run, he found himself giggling at the madness which seemed to have turned his life completely upside down. To have taken everything away that he had before.

Mr X came back and made no comment on Darren, who now had switched from hysterical laughter to sobbing. He merely found himself sidling towards the bed, dawdling slightly, before climbing on beside the bod wrd wrappiis ais arms around the prone form at his side that sobbed harshly. He undid the binds, and immediately the adolescent collapsed against him, arms winding around the sinewy though muscular form that held him so close, sobbing against the shoulder of the one who brought him such pain, embracing all the insanity that had taken him in and swallowed him whole.

‘Why do you do the things you do?’ Darren’s voice was choked, though emotionless. Fingers continued to run soothingly through the mussed blonde locks.

‘Because I love you. I do these things for you. You’ll understand one day why.’ Mr X sounded resolute. Though the voices crept up now to shoot down his faith in Darren. He ignored them. He pushed them aside. They crept back to absolution, satisfied with the bloodshed they had caused outside the video rental store earlier that day, it seemed.

‘I don’t mean that. You’ve already told me that.’ Darren’s tone was inquisitive, though had the slight lilt, the slight slur of his exhaustion lacing it obviously as he stilled. His crying had paused now. ‘Why are you how you are now?’

The grip tightened. Darren began to squirm, his teeth gritted as a soft sound of discomfort escaped his lips as fingers dug deeper and deeper into his skin. He allowed a whimper, and the bruising digits relaxed just slightly.