It was in another lifetime 2
Title: It was in another lifetime
Chapter Title: I just want to break you down so badly…
Pairing: Unknown
Fandom: The Horrors
Rating: NC-17
POV: 3rd Josh Centric
Writer: Well it hasn’t changed since last time.
Beta: (this is new) the_sidewinder
Summery: All his life Joshua has suffered from vivid nightmares, about white rooms and the smell of his own blood. But now the lines between dreams and reality are starting to become blurred.
Warning: ATTENTION, this needs to carry a strong warning for violent content. Please allow me to fuck with your minds.
A/N: New chapter innit. Yet another sleepless night over this fic, you lot had better be damn grateful!
Joshua remained curled in the foetal position the whole night, his slender frame racked with violent sobs, body shivering as it tried to generate some warmth. It wasn’t until the dull grey of dawn started to creep under his heavy curtains that he moved. Slowly he stretched his legs out under the cover, quivering as they moved to the colder part of his bed. Josh had to force himself not to snap his limbs back to the relative heat of their former position. He sniffed loudly, rubbing his nose against his knuckles. He was desperately ashamed of his reaction to his dream; it was just pitiful. Really what sort of grown man was reduced to tears over a fucking nightmare?
He dragged air into his lungs, bracing himself to get up and shower; that foul blood smell still clung in the air and to his body and he was desperate to be rid of it. Joshua swallowed and tossed back the duvet, flinging his feet over the edge of the bed onto the icy floor. He twitched them away before planting them even firmer on the ground. His shaking increased tenfold. Hurriedly he scuttled out of his bedroom and into the bathroom, shutting the door with a snap, as if worried something was pursuing him.
The muscles in his back and shoulders ached, a deep and stinging pain. Part of Josh could still feel the whips connecting with his skin. He knew they hurt him when he was awake, he knew they abused his body in that white room while he wasn’t trapped there. He’d lost count of how often he’d found himself back there, aching from injuries he couldn’t remember getting, the blood on the floor still warm, still liquid.
The skinny boy launched himself to the floor, wrenching open the toilet lid as his stomach heaved, the acrid taste of vomit burning his throat, strangling his sense of smell. He heaved again, hating all of this. Hating how just thinking about what they might be doing had caused such a violent physical reaction. Taking care not to upset his fluttering stomach any more, Joshua folded his arms across the seat and rested his forehead on them. It took a long time for his stomach to settle, dry-heaves powering through his cold form. He got no respite as his thoughts chased themselves over and over again, making him sick with fear and panic. What were they doing to him? Could he actually feel that or was it just his mind playing tricks on him again? But slowly his body ran down out of sheer exhaustion.
Joshua sniffed, by this point completely unsurprised that he was crying again. He nuzzled his face against his arms, and then slowly leaned back, resting his weight on his ankles, and taking steadying breaths. With trembling hands he rubbed his tired eyes, pushing away any remaining tears. His forehead was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, as well as the rest of him; in fact his t-shirt had stuck itself to his back with sweat.
His long fingers curled around the edge of the shirt, and he slowly pulled it over his head, the material pulling at his skin uncomfortably, making him whimper at the slight pain. He frowned as the collar dragged over his head, not helping his headache one bit. The shirt made a soft ‘thwump’ sound as it crumpled in a corner somewhere. Standing up was quite an issue however, and several times he had to sink back to the floor, head in hands as the room spun around him.
Eventually he managed to get a fairly steady footing, but only with one hand braced against the cool wall, fingers star-splayed over the faded tiles. The light had never been turned on, and the only illumination came from the mute orange glow of the streetlamp outside the frosted window. Carefully Joshua moved away, walking unevenly across the floor until he reached the little shower. He turned to the water and held his hand loosely under the stream.
After a few moments of waiting for the water to warm a little, he pulled his hand away, shaking the water from it, and slowly pushed down his pants, kicking them into the darkness. Gingerly he stepped into the shower, the steam twining around his ankles; he pulled the plastic door shut with a reverberating thud. He wasn’t quite under the water yet, hovering just out of reach of the spray, the water clear as it disappeared down the plughole. His head came to rest on his chest, and he shuffled forward until the water was cascading on top of his head. His eyelids slipped closed, the water so warm it stung his back, tingling and itching.
Joshua opened his eyes. The water was dark, swirling around his feet blacker than the room he was in. The water was black with blood.
A strangled sound caught in his throat, catching on his fear. He scrabbled backwards, his back thudding against the tiles painfully; he cried out once more, hands grasping, flailing, shutting off the water. Fingers grappling for purchase on the slick surface of the shower door. Finally it gave way, and he nearly threw himself across the room, his wet feet slipping dangerously. Joshua twisted round, keeping his back to the wall, pupils blown wide with terror. It was real, the blood was real.
With the sluggish lighting of the room realisation crashed into Josh, and terribly slowly, so frightened of what he might actually find, he raised one hand and ran it up his chest, over his shoulder and down his back to where the last whip-blow had landed in his dream. Instead of smooth skin his trembling digits brushed over the ragged edge of torn flesh. Swallowing hard he moved his hand slowly, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing in pain. Carefully he pulled his hand away, bringing it in front of his face; a dark liquid stained the pale pads of his leading fingers. His tongue darted out to check, because this could not be happening. He recoiled sharply as the coopery taste flooded his mouth.
“Oh shit…ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit… I don’t… no, please. Pl-please…I can’t.” He had no idea who he was begging; he was just desperate to make it all stop. A shudder ran up his spine. The warm liquid seeping down his back wasn’t water from the shower, it was fresh blood. And his shirt hadn’t been plastered to his skin with sweat but blood. He screamed.
The shrill sound echoed around the room; Joshua fisted his hands in his hair and tugged violently, screaming and screaming and screaming. His self-control, his mind, shattering into a hundred, thousand pieces all around him.
Josh’s shoulder collided with the doorframe as he fled the bathroom, breaking into frantic, hysterical sobs as he tripped and fell, grazing his knees and elbows on the carpet. Automatically his body moved back into the foetal position, still damp from the failed attempt at getting clean. Joshua lay there, quivering and naked, torn to pieces.
A/N: Yes I’m going to leave it there for now. More bonus points for correctly guessing where the chapter title comes from!