Oz fic for Spook me: The bunk penalty
Fandom: OZ
Creature : The Boogeyman
Paring and characters: Beecher/Keller, Tobias Beecher, Chris Keller, Vern Schillinger
Rating: Mature (sort of)
He is just a kid. He is at his parent’s home, his first home, and his mum and dad are talking with some strangers in the living room. The house is full of strangers with expensive dresses, colleagues of this father with their wives with their expensive and shiny dresses and a cocktail in their hands. They are talking about work and all the women laugh too much and touch their husbands’ hands too much and he thinks this is a kind of code, that is the way that adults talk to each other in the real life, where kids are asleep. No-one sees him, maybe he is too small, maybe he is invisible, maybe isn’t interesting enough. No-one sees him and he can go around in the living room and in the kitchen how he wants. Touch what he wants, even their glasses. He takes one glass and it’s not full, maybe someone has been drinking it for a while and then forgot, but there is a cherry and he loves cherries. So he take the glass and tastes it. Burns a little in his throat but tastes like fruit, and something spicy and tastes like future. More than he can imagine.
And then there is an hand on his shoulder. And he is back in his back in his bed with the voice of his mother again in his ears. “These aren’t drinks for children, you know that. They are for adults, like your father and his friends. “ and “These are poison for a child. You drink one of them and then you’ll be sick, and you don’t want to be sick aren’t you?” and “You can’t get out of your bed in the night, during a party that is so important for your father, and go around. It’s dangerous. You are just a child.” And then when she realizes he isn’t listening “ You should stay in your bed during the night because it’s scary outside. It’s very scary, Toby. Your father and I put you into your bed after the darkness comes because it's dangerous, and you know why? Because outside there are monsters. And not only outside this house, but inside. Under your bed there is a monster, Toby. We didn’t want to tell you but you’re old enough to know. He is the Boogeyman and he is very scary. He is dark and tall and he lives under your bed and he hates children. During the day he sleep and he can’t takes you but in the night… in the night Toby he become superpower and he wants take with him children that don’t want sleep. The children that don’t want sleep and want go around in the nigh. He takes and he is very evil with them and me and your father don’t want that he could takes you so you do not have to get out of bed. You understand me, Toby? You must not get out of bed at night and not have to drink cocktails for adults. You do not have to do it or the boogeyman will take you.”
Don’t go out of your bed. Don’t drink. Don’t do it or the Boogeyman will take you.
Now while he waits for someone to take him in Emerald City, in Oswald penitentiary after killing a child because he was driving drunk, Tobias Beecher remembers the words that his mother told him as a child. Maybe if he had been afraid of boogeyman his life would have been different.
His first night in Schillinger’s pod he doesn’t sleep for the pain in the ass. He keeps toss and turn in his bunk trying to ignore the swastika branded in his flesh. Trying to feeling guilty for the mistakes that he made (drive drunk, kill a little girl, destroy his family, left his children and breaks his parent’s heart) more than feeling sorry for himself, for the poor Beecher and his sad sad life in prison with a psycho roomie. He doesn’t sleep and he fails. It’s better with self-pity than real guilt.
His second in Schillinger’s pod he doesn’t sleep for the pain in the ass. Again. Different pain this time. Lucky him. This time he doesn’t even try to close a single eye,too scared of what might happen to him if he falls asleep . This time he doesn’t even try to choose guilt instead self-pity. He his sorry for himself, for his sad life. He doesn’t deserve this. He made mistakes but he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve this life, doesn’t deserve scumbags as neighbors, doesn’t deserve a swastika in his butt (how will he be naked again with Genevieve? How will make love with his wife after this? How will the sex be normal again after being fucked in the ass?), doesn’t deserve to be raped by a psycho nazi podmate.
It’s a lot better with self-pity than real guilt.
Eventually he sleeps.
He hopes for a dreamless sleep, for few hours of breaks from himself, from Oz, from everything has been and will be. He dreams, instead. Not Kathy Rockwell, the little girl he killed. Not Holly, his child, crying the last time he saw her before the trail. He dreams a man. Tall, thin but muscular, dark hair. In his dreams he can’t recognize his features clearly but he is sure that is a familiar face. Toby knows he is beautiful, feels he is beautiful. It’s not the first time Toby sees him, he is sure. He doesn’t know but when Toby sees that man he is scared to death. And he can’t stop look at him. In his dreams the man’s voice is like pure sex and encourage him to come closer, to escape from his pod and go with him for be free ( “You are not alone, Toby” “You haven’t fucked your life, man” “It’s all right”) , but when Toby try to come he can’t. In his dreams Toby try to touch the dark man, try to go with him, but he breaks his arms and his legs. And that sound, God that sound. That snap. When he was in high-school he has already heard that snap. Arthur Wiener, a student, during the gym class got his leg broken by Tad Lefkofsky. That time Toby heard that snap and got out, this time, in his dream, he can’t. He can’t run away from that man, from that snap, from that pain.
The only thing he feels upon waking is the pain.
He can’t live during the day and he can’t sleep during the night. He doesn’t try to feel the guilt anymore.
Don’t smile during the day. Don’t be a smartass during Up your ante (they’re dumb but you aren’t the Tough guy) Always call “Sir” Vern. Lick his balls because he comes faster in this way ( and swallows. Always swallows. Because when you don’t the night is harder than usual). And don’t sleep more than few minutes at time during the night. And please, please don’t allow yourself to dream. Because in your dreams he always comes. And then you’ll miss Vern.
He is awake. He is awake. He can listen Vern's snoring, he can see the hacks outside their pod. He is awake. And then why can he listen that voice?
Why are you here?
He can’t see him, but he knows that he is here. He can feels in his bones. And it’s not a good feeling.
I’m awake. I know I’m awake. Why can I hear you? You are only a nightmare.
“Are you sure, Toby? Only a nightmare? And then why can you hear my voice? Can you feel my touch on your skin?” the voice. Pure sex (pure evil?).
It’s true. It’s only a moment but there is a touch on his feet, from the end of bunk. It's only a moment but Toby can feel his body tremble.
“Who are you?” Toby voice is only a whisper. But say these words, not only think these words, makes everything real.
“You know who I am. You know me, Toby. From the start, from the beginning.” And a little softer “You are not alone, man.”
The flash of a man’s hand from the under of his bunk. The flash of a memory. His mother’s voice.
“Don’t go out of your bed. Don’t drink. Don’t do it or the Boogeyman will take you.”
The boogeyman. The monster under the bed (under the bunk?). What became his life?
“What do you want from me?”
“Me? Nothing. This is just a little harmless fun between two consenting adults.”
A little harmless fun between two consenting adults where Toby can feel his bones breaks, can feel something warm in his chest first and then feel his heart in piece. Like in a dream that isn’t a dream.
“I’m only under this bunk. I didn’t do nothing. You chose to come here. You chose this bunk.“ You chose this life, Beech. “And since you like it so much punish yourself we can have fun together.”
Fun. So much fun. He is scared to death. He is horny to death. (and the man under his bunk has right).
“Beech?”
Yeah?
“You chose this roomie too.”
Right again.
When he was a kid Toby hated when he didn’t remember his dreams in the morning. His mother gave to him a notebook, blue with some stars on the cover, so “When you wake up, even if it’s night and your brother is sleeping you can write your dreams on it. And in the morning no-one dream will be lost.” He loved is mother.
Now, in Oz, in this pod, in this bunk he dreams only a dreamless night. Or a dreamless day. Or a dreamless life, maybe.
There are always nightmares in the night. Always the same and never always the same. The flirting, the talking. The possibility of a redemption from his sins, these fingers on his the nape of the neck (not squeezing, just touching, just caressing him like he would be a wild cat) and then that snap. And then “No-one never loved you, Toby. Not for a second.” And then the pain. And then.
And then him. The man under his bed. Toby can’t shush his dreams (his nightmares, they are nightmare Beecher, not dreams. How must you be fucked to still call them dreams?) and can’t shush the man. And the man keeps on talking and talking.
Says “You chose this life.”
Says “ You chose alcohol, too. And you loved alcohol, Toby. And you miss it, more than how you miss your wife, even your children sometimes. I know you, pal.” Maybe a few drop, just to sleep and not dream.
Says “You chose to be a good little prag to Mr. Schillinger and say yessir and be with your beautiful pink ass (his ass is beautiful?) in the air ready to take everything the Nazi wants give to you. Maybe you love being a bitch as you love being boozed.”
Says “You chose everything, Beech. You can choose to be different too.”
The man under his bunk says that. Every night and every day. Again and again.
And then Toby choose.
You'd think that in prison the pods have shatterproof glass. Damn you would think that in prison the pods may not have the glass because who is the fucker who put the glass in a place where live murderers and rapist? Because when a man has lost everything maybe, but just maybe, a glass between him and his rapist his not the best thing. Especially when he has a lot of chairs and a even more drugs ( “You can find tits even more quickly than chairs. Just ask that mick, Beech. Trust me, I wanna help you.” Says the man under his bunk.).
In the space nothing makes sound. When the glass of his pod breaks in the head of Toby for the first time nothing makes a sound .He feels like to be living a dreamless sleep. A man shouts, Scott Ross (Nazi? Bikers? He does not care), glass falls everywhere, Schillinger screams when a piece of glass is sticking in his eye and when another piece (in Toby’s hand) is sticking in his throat. Nothing makes a sound in Toby’s mind. He is free.
He is in the death row. Apparently you can kill a innocent little girl and be free (after parole) in four but you can’t kill a scumbag in prison because it’s very very bad and you deserve the death penalty. You deserve to fry.
But only after “months of nothing” in a cell so awful that makes you miss your old pod. Even your old bunk (even your old roomie under the bunk? You can’t says at loud, Beech because you wanted to be free and now you are free. And alone).
Even your old ro-
“You are awake, Toby?”
Nevermind.
“How? How can you be here?”
You were under my bed. I know that story. I know. I’m not crazy. Ok I’m crazy but I haven’t the alzheimer.
“Yeah, how Toby? Use you big lawyerly brain and take a guess. Nothing? Death penalty.”
“You’ve kill someone?”
“Bingo! All those money for Harvard weren’t wasted.”
“But…” but “You kill people! It’s your job!”
A laugh. “People, yeah. I can kill people. I can kill jizbags in prisons, I can kill little boys in their bed. I could kill all your family, Toby, and I’ll be fine. But, apparently, I can’t kill another boogeyman. It’s against the law.”
Ok nevermind. I’m definitely crazy. Maybe the death penalty is a gift. Maybe I don’t give a shit.
“Who did you kill?”
“This sucker.”
Toby touch his bunk. “This? The boogeyman of this bunk?” There are boogeyman even in the death row, Toby didn’t know that.
“ Yeah.”
“ And why?”
“ Why? Because he wants to kill you.” The man under his bunk says that, as not a big deal, as Toby said “I would love chicken nuggets for dinner” to his wife in his past life (in another life). I saved you, I saved your life because you are not alone in this Toby, like I said in your dreams, remember?
“ So we’re stuck here.”
“ Together.”
“ Together.”
“ Till death do us part.”
“ Like marriage.”
“ Me and the boogeyman.”
“You can call me Chris.”
“Chris.”
“Go to sleep Toby, you look like shit. You need to rest. You need to dream.”
“Chris…”
“ Sleep Toby, no-one gonna hurt you.”
No-one.
But me.
Author's note: English is always not my first language, obvs. So if this fic seems written like Renzi's speaks english (or Pancamo speaks italian in Oz) sorry =) These are my first fics not written in italian, where i'm normally more intelligent. I hope =)