Prompt Post: ROUND EIGHT

[oakenshields13]

ROUND EIGHT IS CLOSED

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Of Needles 1/8

[skull_bearer]

Okay, I have never done a fill like this, so it might be a bit weird. Hope it's D/s enough.

Shaw was insanely fun to write, I love writing horribly evil characters.

Of Needles

"Really, it's doing you both a favour," The needle presses against the back of Erik's neck, the weak place between vertebra and skull. "What good would you be to anyone? If you couldn't even protect your own family, what good would you be to a sub? He'd be better off dead than in your hands." Schmitt hasn't pressed the needle in yet, standing back and watching Erik thrash and try and twist away from the hard glass tip. There isn't a scrap of metal in the room.

Erik pulls up against the straps so hard he could barely breath, and still can't escape the light brush of the needle. He can feel the other boy in his mind, frantic and pushing as though he wanted to climb into Erik's mind completely through their link before Schmitt destroyed it.

"And you, such a distraction makes you weak. Such potential as you have, and you'd prefer to squander it on these silly human games. Oh my boy, that won't do now will it?" Schmitt bends down beside him, only inches away. Erik tries to twist his head away, anything not to look at him. The straps hold him in place.

"Please." The words feel like barbed wire, taste like surrender.

Schmitt and his people took everything from him, everyone. Why should this be different? The warm presence he'd felt in his mind since he could remember, the reminder that he wasn't alone, that there was someone out there waiting for him. That there might be something after this. Something, someone worth living for. Erik had though, foolishly perhaps, that because where ever the boy might be, he was out of Schmitt's reach, that he might be able to keep him.

Foolish.

"Now, why are you begging? Why do you care? Have you met this boy? Why do you want a snivelling, dependant brat clinging to you forever, when there is so much you can accomplish? Weakness." He taps Erik on the forehead, and the needle digs in a little. "Is what we are getting rid of here."

The boy, Erik doesn't know his name, but can feel the shape of him in his mind, a completeness beyond the need for names, is screaming, wherever he is, and trying to project comfort as he had for so many starving nights in the ghetto, and days in Schmitt's laboratory. Erik's breathing shudders and he can't stop the tears.

Schmitt tuts, "One day, you'll understand, my boy." He presses the needle in.

The link shatters in white and tearing and so much pain. The metal of the camp screams in Erik's voice.