Pink lemonade

Long gone were the days of picking those hairy little fuzzballs off your jeans after running through the fields out back of your house, they're an estate of flats now. Mrs Wicker's shop is a Dunhelm. Everything has changed. Elliot wasn't sure how he felt about it. He'd move away six years ago, a bold move for a sixteen year old, but he was capable and smart and had made his way in life. Now, at twenty-two, he was the supervisor of people ten, or maybe even twenty years his senior. A flat, a girlfriend, a pet cat called Boris, all these things pleased him. But now he returned to see his Mother. Childhood was a blurry affair he could never quite put his finger on the indivdual memories, they just slipped away, like silk between fingertips.

As always every Christmas, a wreath decorated the door, fairy lights lined the glass window. A sharp rap bought his Mother to the door, pleasure lit her features and she grasped him quickly in a tight hug. Christmas day filled the majority of people with cheer, but she had missed him deeply. They sat, ate turkey, exchanged gifts and stories and news, looked through the old photograph albums, obsolete now with the event of digital cameras, she still treasured the old books.

It finally came time for Elliot to leave. He kissed her cheek, promised to come back soon, and the door was closed. His Mother couldn't let the cold in as she was vulnerable to it. Elliot thought about leaving straight away, but up the hill he could see the park where he used to play. With Razzle. Razzle was something he couldd remember, his imaginary friend who always kept his spirits up and kept him company when the other children shunned him and bullied him for talking to and playing with himself. Razzle had seemed so real, so engrossing. Elliot was in the park suddenly, he didn't even remember walking up the cobbled path to the gate, never mind across the town. Thick snow covered the ground, and he swept it off the seat of the swing and sat down. He didn't mind too much if his backside got wet.

'I've been waiting...' the voice was soft, eerie, chills ran up his spine and Elliot was afraid to move. Afraid to turn around, he sat still. 'You do not need to speak. You mustn't move.' gentle but cold hands were grasping the sides of his head, sharp nails just making their presence known on his skin. Elliot sat still obediently. This was obviously some wacko, best bet would be to just wait for an opportune moment to run. 'You have great frenetic energy in your brain. Something is there, something which wishes to be free, you keep it locked up in a dark crevice of your mind... It is my duty... To set it free!' on the word "free", the cold hands disappeared. Elliot spun around, and there was nobody. Nothing. His stomach churned with fear. Had he just experienced a bonafide haunting? A ghost? As these thoughts ravaged his mind, his head turned, and there, on the other swing next to him, gazing at him expectantly, was a face familiar but foggy. Then it dawned on him.

'Razz... Razzle? How is this possible...' Razzle's face didn't look like it used to. Razzle had aged like him, he had grown tall and lithe, he was dressed in tight all black, his slender and toned figure looked powerful. His hair was jet black, erratic, streaked with colours of the rainbow still as Elliot had always imagined it, and he still had the dark eyes, so dark they looked almost pupilless. Razzle's skin was pale, his face was a little gaunt, as if he hadn't been eating properly.

'Hi, Ellie... It's been a while,' Razzle's voice was no longer childish. It was smooth, ethereal, a little genderless. 'You locked me away...' Razzle was whispering now. He stood from the swing. Elliot's eyes opened wide as Razzle's hand appeared from behind his back with a large block of wood, the last thing he saw hurtling towards his face.

When Elliot opened his eyes, a bright light forced them shut again. He groaned softly and attempted to lift his arms, only to find resistance in the form of smooth leather straps. He forced his eyes open. The room was bare, the walls just plaster and the floorboards exposed. The only thing other than the bed he was lying on in the room was a small wooden chair. Occupied by a smug looking Razzle who was staring at him silently. Elliot closed his eyes and moaned, the gag prevented his speech. He had hoped it was all a bad dream, but no, Razzle was real, sitting in the room being a creepy psycho.

'How does it feel?' Elliot's tongue was pushed still by the gag. He stared at Razzle blankly. 'To be locked up. To be forgotten after so long, we were best friends, Ellie. I loved you. And you just cast me aside like a used condom!' it shocked Elliot to hear such a prominent figure of his childhood speak such crude words. Razzle walked across the room, his shoes clipped on the hard wooden floor. Elliot noticed a sharp and merciless looking serated blade in his hand. 'I'm going to take your gag off, so we can talk a little.' Razzle moved close, head dipped in a swift, jerky movement, so their faces were almost touching, he spoke through gritted teeth. 'If you try anything cute though, I'll cut your fucking tongue out so you can't scream, and stuff this somewhere pretty...' as if to explain what he meant, Razzle's eyes trailed slowly, purposefully down Elliot's body. 'Do you understand?' Razzle whispered. Elliot nodded. Elliot was fairly slim, pale, he usually wore black rimmed glasses but he could see them placed on the window sill. He noticed also he was completely naked. He didn't want to wonder about what Razzle had been doing whilst he was unconcious. The gag popped from his mouth, Elliot stayed quiet as promised. 'I missed you a lot, Ellie,' Razzle's voice became a keening whine suddenly, like a distressed puppy. 'You didn't miss me though, did you? Oh no... You had that big tittied piece of meat to screw, didn't you? That fucking whore. That filthy, dirty, thieving bitch. I took what was mine back though, I did good,' Elliot remained silent. This was impossible. This had to be a bad dream. Razzle was a figment of his imagination, a shadow of the past, and Razzle had never been this... Crazy. Sure he and Razzle had played some strange games, but Elliot knew Razzle wasn't real and Razzle wasn't crazy. That is, if Razzle were real, which is impossible, he would not be crazy. Razzle looked real, though. Razzle smelt like cinnamon buns his Mother used to bake, and wild grass, scents from childhood. Razzle's hands felt real as they skated over his upper arms and squeezed carefully.

'H... How...'

'How is this possible?' Razzle smiled. A huge, leering expression of white teeth, his eyes lit up. 'What parents deem as imaginary friends are not imaginary friends but a sort of alternate dimension spirit transcedence that's lost. I crept into your mind and became a friend to you, it's the easiest way to gain sanctuary. Your mind was a safe, warm haven until you forgot me. Then it became a prison...' Razzle looked saddened. Elliot stared at him blankly.

'Razzle... This is ridiculous you can't be Razzle. Razzle's not real. You're not real!' Elliot found his voice rising.

'Maybe I wasn't "real" in your terms til now, but I am very much real...' As if to cement the fact, Razzle's hands slid into Elliot's hair, fingers curled, and he pulled viciously. A yelp clawed from Elliot's throat. Razzle felt a desire to harm Elliot, and his hand drew back and connected with Elliot's cheek in a hard slap. He repeated the motion, senseless violence made him feel better, Elliot sobbed after the fifth blow, Razzle stopped, hand in midair, and released the man's blonde, soft and silken hair. Elliot cried softly, pain throbbing from his abused scalp and cheek. Razzle watched the tears leak from his eyes. Mixed feelings of triumph, supremacy, power, guilt and regret, feelings he had never felt this poignantly before, flooded his system. 'Stop being a baby...' Razzle whispered softly, coldly. The words of his Mother when Elliot came home crying from being teased. Elliot's sobs hushed and became silent, tears still poured from his eyes, tears of sudden fear and pain. Razzle turned away sharply. 'I'm going out,' he announced. 'I will fetch you food and drink. Don't worry about money, I will make arrangements. Stay still, if I see any signs that you've attempted an escape, I will harm you,' Razzle slammed the door behind him and was gone.

Elliot squirmed, Elliot attempted to struggle, but it seemed he was bound tight. He couldn't worm his way down the bed as a large wooden board had been nailed to the bottom, Elliot supposed Razzle had done this whilst he was sleeping. But Razzle wasn't real! This all had to be a bad dream. Elliot closed his eyes tight and tried to force himself away to no avail. The slaps had felt real, sharp and painful. Elliot felt humiliated, tied down naked for anybody to see, with Razzle's strange and confused and hungry eyes looking at him. Razzle had oviously become disturbed during his imprisonment. With a soft, resigning sigh, Elliot lay with eyes shut and waited. It was all he could do. He imagined his best bet would be to encourage Razzle to unbound him by whatever means, and then make his escape somehow. Razzle was much stronger than him physically though, much quicker, much more ruthless. After about six minutes, Elliot drifted back into restless slumber.