FRAGMENTED - Fragment 8, Part 3
-Wednesday, January 17th 2007
- 3:32 am
Open, close, open, close.
The hinge of that damnable cell phone creaked in protest as leather bound fingers moved, manipulating the small device.
Open, close, open, close.
Over and over and over again.
It was mocking, terrifying even; churning unease in his innards like acid. He tried so hard not to look, not to watch that small device snap open then closed then open again. It was mesmerizing, strangely alluring in the morbid manner in which it moved. So unassuming, and yet, with one push of the button, one single phone call, that little device could send all that was left of his world crashing down about him.
Jaejoong swallowed, and tore his hindered eyes away. His gaze focused on the bland wall of his prison, his personal hell, watching nothing, yet still that creak persisted.
Open, close, open, close.
It ticked down the hours like the hands on a watch, counting the minutes, and he fought hard to keep a spray of goose bumps from cropping up along his flesh.
That man, that horrid man. He was doing this on purpose.
Well, of course he was, idiot!
It was all part of his plan wasn’t it?
The lead singer had long since realized the man’s ultimate goal. It was hard not to. Despite his confusion, despite his not knowing why his tormentor was doing all of this to him, to them.. He knew what he wanted. Death, humiliation, decimation. He wanted Jaejoong to crumble to his knees crying and begging for mercy. He wanted him destroyed, inside and out. Plain and simple. Why? He hadn’t the slightest idea. But he knew, as surely as he felt the migraine throbbing in his temples, that it was something he whole heartedly refused to give.
Snorting, Jaejoong tuned out that annoying squeak to the best of his ability, trying to push that presence and that silent threat as far from his mind as possible. Yet, it seemed hopeless. Ever since Eien had appeared, sauntering into his cell like he owned the place, which he did, didn’t he? His mind had been filled with nothing else but that malevolent presence and the silent watch dog hovering in the background. The young Korean did not even have to look at that man to see that smirk curling those disgusting lips. He knew it would be there, whether he chose to confirm it or not, just as he knew that man was watching him with a very queer interest that turned his stomach. Even now, he could feel those eyes lazily sweeping every inch of his body as if he were some piece of meat on display, and it made his very skin crawl. He felt sullied and bared in a way he couldn’t remember ever having felt before and it disturbed him.
Everything about that creature disturbed him.
All those nights ago, when that Chinese man had come into his cell, when he’d cornered him.. Those things he said, the things he did.. When that man had tried to.. touch him...
Jaejoong suppressed the urge to shiver, and his jaw clenched.
He felt sick just knowing what could have happened had he not escaped, even for that brief moment. And damn him, Eien knew it too. He knew how uncomfortable Xiao Wen’s mere presence made him, and he utilized it to his full advantage.
Swallowing, the vocalists palm pressed hard into the wall at his back, ignoring protests from the healing lashes decorating his shoulder blades; using that discomfort to ground his thoughts. Whatever had lessened the burn of his injuries earlier that evening had long since worn off; leaving his nerves throbbing and frazzled.
This whole visit was a well orchestrated play to push at his resolve, to see just how far his tormentor could bend him before he’d break.
It had been the same ever since those two had stepped into his cell. They had not uttered a single word, they simply watched and waited. Jaejoong had remained calm, at first. He’d quietly stood and leaned into the cold cement for support, refusing to look up at the men who had caused him so much pain. Then Eien had dug out that blasted cell phone in silent warning. And his nerves began to twist and bunch and an angered sweat peppered his temples. That annoying creaking chipped away at his stoic indifference, bit by bit until he felt a breath away from lashing out. His fingers would curl and claw at the wall, the muscles along his shoulders would tense as if preparing to strike out, then that obnoxious cell phone would snap closed once again in warning and he’d rein that anger in like a rabid beast on a leash. The anger almost felt foreign, not his own, and corralling it was a definite chore. It was tiring, exhausting really. How long had it been now? How long had those men stood there watching him struggle to contain himself and his growing irritation? It could have been hours; it could have very well been days with how bone weary he suddenly felt.
And he realized then, that he just wanted to sleep.
That cell phone snapped closed again, before creaking as it whipped open once more cutting through the stagnant air and Jaejoong heaved an irritated sigh.
“Well? Did you come in here for a reason or are you just here to satisfy your voyeuristic tendencies?” The singer snapped, lifting trim arms to fold against a slender chest. He knew he’d probably regret speaking up like that, but he was at his wits end. He was tired, sore, and annoyed beyond belief. He could withstand a few more beatings if it meant those unwelcome figures left sooner rather than later and he could finally be allowed to get some rest.
The violent snapping of that ominous device nearly made him jump in surprise. It was sharper, almost angered sounding and he quickly bit his tongue keeping any further retort tucked behind his lips. In that single moment of irritation, Jaejoong had allowed himself to forget that he wasn’t only gambling with his own life when he spoke out like that. Now, he was gambling with his band mates as well.
‘Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did you say that!? Idiot, keep your head down, mouth shut and no one gets hurt... Right.’
Two swift footsteps brought a heavy, heated breath crashing against his face, beating into cold flesh and he fought the urge to stiffen and pull away. Intense eyes bore into his skull, burning, urging him to look up and only once he had, did Eien break the silence.
A hand whipped out faster then he could follow, cutting a swath through the air and the vocalists head jerked to the side. The sound of leather slapping skin echoed through the room, throbbing with the stinging pain now pulsing in the young man’s cheek.
“Did I say you could speak?” His captor stated, strangely flat, without malevolence. There was no mask covering his features, and as he stood there, so near the smaller boy, Jaejoong could clearly see that upturned brow. The man stood with a confident air, exuding a presence that simply expected to be obeyed, no, knew he would be obeyed. Somehow, he found that more terrifying than the Japanese man’s rage.
Swallowing softly, Jaejoong breathed a faint, “No” in reply.
“Then hold your tongue. Or I will find a much more suitable use for it.” Eien warned. Xiao Wen at his back smirked in the most lecherous of ways allowing a filthy hand to slip down a lean thigh and readjust his own slacks quite thoroughly. Jaejoong, despite his handicap, caught the not so subtle action and it nearly took all his remaining strength not to shiver in disgust. Whether Eien noticed the exchange or not, he did not react and instead circled the standing boy who could not remember when he’d stepped away from the wall. He felt suddenly very naked, standing alone as that monster stalked about him like a great beast waiting to pounce.
Those haunting steps stopped without warning; the man now hovering behind his back and Jaejoong was unsure who he felt more threatened by. Eien or that pervert Xiao Wen. He didn’t want either man out of his sight for a second.
A queer shiver surged up his spine as a stray hand teased along the tense expanse of bone and a foot shifted forward before he could stop himself; attempting to escape that unwelcome touch.
“Stay.” That flat, crisp tone ordered as if commanding a pet and he found himself begrudgingly obeying. His acceptance however had less to do with the order and more to do with the fact that each step he took brought him that much closer to that disgusting redhead hovering with a greasy grin before him.
Bare toes curled into the cold cement, fingers fisting in rough jean so tight his knuckles all but glowed from lack of color.
“Sit.” Eien continued in a demeaning manner that sent the little hairs on the back of the vocalists’ neck on end.
Jaejoong did not move.
He refused. He was not an animal, and he would not be ordered around like one. His pride would not allow it.
“I said, on your knees.” The madman snapped, sharp and firm, punctuating his command with a rough grip at the base of youths’ skull. Fingers dug into the tender pressure points below cold ears, and Jaejoong fought the urge to gasp as that vice like hand forced him to the ground. Scuffed shins ached in protest as they collided with the hard flooring and the singer squirmed attempting to pull from that uncaring touch. But the hand merely tightened until points of light danced behind his eyes.
Jaejoong held his breath, fighting the urge to yank away and groan in pain. It was inconceivable how simple pressure on such a small patch of delicate skin could cause so much agony. The vocalists’ good palm slapped against the cement, and his arm trembled beneath the weight of that crushing grip.
Two sets of hard eyes watched the boy suffer in silence, catching the subtle shift of pale teeth slicing into a swollen bottom lip and two mouths smirked for two entirely different reasons. Only when the boy seemed moments away from swooning did Eien finally release his grip and straighten, dusting his hand against his slacks.
“When I order you to do something boy, you do it. Do you understand me?” The Japanese man intoned firmly, arching a brow as he gazed at the slight figure curled before his feet. He felt such a swell of sadistic elation watching that stubborn youth bow into himself, panting for an illusive breath. Yet, he wanted more. He needed more. It was like the sweetest drug to his system, tingling his nerves and coursing such raw pleasure through his body. Pain, agony, debasement, ah, it was just so succulent. So addicting. Yet, the one thing he wanted most, true and complete submission- that was still just beyond his grasp. And that irritated him to no end.
Diligent fingers moved, thumbing the edge of his cell phone and he all but purred as those obnoxiously innocent looking doe-eyes caught the telling movement. Jaejoong swiftly dropped his gaze with the tiniest of nods. The boy understood his place, even if he didn’t like it. However, given time, Eien knew he’d have that boy ground so far into the dirt he’d never be able to pick himself back up again.
Which was, of course, exactly what he wanted.
Dark eyes, glowing ember and slight, peered through the shadows, watching as the young singer collected himself gathering what strength he could and wound it about his shoulders like a protective blanket. It was unsettling just how naturally defiant that boy was. Even when he was cooperating, there was a familiar edge of discontent. It was almost unconscious at times, like the child did not realize his eyes glared through the darkness, or his jaw tightened with stubborn pride. It was queerly intriguing. It drew him in. Like a complex formula enchanted a chemist. And like a scientist, Eien planned to poke and prod, twist and tease until he dissected every inch of the boys’ inner workings. And then, once he knew exactly how the young man ticked, he would crush him and everything he held dear.
That thought alone brought a wicked smile to the Japanese mans’ thin lips, curling the deep set edges and he could not quite wipe it away as he once again circled his quiet captive.
The contemplative silence that draped the tiny room broke, shattered by the creak of heavy boots on unforgiving stone. A gloved hand disappeared into a deep pocket, and a dark gleam settled in wide set eyes.
“Are you hungry?” Eien queried suddenly, his voice stoic; calm.
Jaejoong blinked, not quiet certain he had heard correctly. The young man however held his tongue, whether by default or design, the madman could not be sure. He chose to ignore it, cocking his head curiously as he observed the kneeling youth. “You must be. It’s been, what, three days now?” he droned on, seeming not at all bothered by the boys continued disinterest.
Jaejoong remained unmoved, head bowed and mute. The singer was not an idiot, he knew without a doubt that Eien was simply playing with him. It was just another ploy; a device to further devastate him. Of course he was starving. The pain of a hollow stomach ate at him day and night. Surely, it was slowly driving him mad. Yet, he remained firm. Ignoring the bait the man was so uselessly dangling. The faint growl that rumbled through the air however, undermined his efforts. Even if his mind refused, his body knew what it needed. And he hated himself all the more for that show of weakness.
A bark of laughter chilled the room, beating against the walls before pummeling back into his ears; mocking and loud. Jaejoong fought the urge to cram a palm into his belly to silence those traitorous moans, and closed his eyes; trying to block the man and his cruel insanity from his mind.
“Clearly, you’re famished.” Eien teased, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as his fingers played in the recesses of his pant pocket. “Would you like something to eat, Jejung-san?” He purred the name like an insult, grinning wider at the delicious shiver it sent dancing across the kneeling boys’ shoulders. “As it just so happens, I have a small tidbit right here.”
Despite his better judgment, when he heard the sound of flesh withdrawing from fabric Jaejoong could no longer resist the desire to look up. Doe-eyes widened in shock. He suddenly felt very ill and simultaneously, very angry; every fiber of his being strained against bellowing his rage at the blatant, and horrid insult.
There, nestled neatly in leather encased fingers rested the familiar figure of sustenance. Yes, Eien really was offering him food.
Animal food.
Dancing before the singers hindered eyes, the recognizable shape of a dog biscuit appeared and for a single moment he almost couldn’t believe the man would sink so low.
Eien turned his head, bending slightly as he gazed in mock surprise at the young man. “Don’t you want it?” He asked in a sickeningly sweet, honey dipped tone, curious and strange. Almost like a child, the Japanese man reached forward ‘innocently’ pressing the rough texture of the biscuit into plump lips. Jaejoong instantly recoiled, leaning as far away from that offending offering as possible. The madman resisted the desire to grin, fingering the small bone shaped treat, turning it curiously.
“I’ve read that these are a great tool for training dogs.” He stated, simple, to the point and still, somehow it managed to sound so incredibly mocking. “Supposedly they love the taste. I’m sure that means that you’ll love it too.” The smirk finally curled across that deranged man’s lips, and the singers eyes thinned in appalled anger. “Now, why don’t you be a good little mutt…and take it.” Eien purred, extending the foul treat once again and no matter how hard he tried, Jaejoong could not remain still. As that little biscuit neared his lips the second time the singer shook his head and jerked away.
“I said,” The Japanese man growled, his timbre suddenly low and deathly serious. “Take it.” He commanded, holding out the disgusting dog biscuit, the fingers of his opposite hand raising that threatening cell phone in warning. Jaejoong caught the subtle shift, and his gaze flickered between the hard lacquer of the small device and the brown morsel, and he swallowed. Hard.
A hesitant hand quivered against a slim thigh, straining at rough jean before ever so slowly uncurling. Those slender digits rose, traversing the stagnant air to grasp the stale treat, but was quickly and violently slapped away. The singers’ brow knit in confusion. The Japanese man simply shook his head, waving a finger in admonishment.
“Ah, ah.” He chastised, extending the biscuit once again an almost pleasant smile decorating that hard and weathered face. Somehow, it just looked so creepy on those normally rigid features. Bending down, Eien crouched before the kneeling boy, raising the morsel aloft like a man would dangle a treat over an eager puppies head.
“Take it.. like a good little dog.”
Jaejoong’s stomach seized violently and his eyes widen in understanding.
No. He.. He couldn’t honestly expect him to?.. No. Of course he could. He was a sick, twisted sadist who thrived on human humiliation.
The vocalist eyed the bitter brown morsel, lips pressed in a tight line, yet he made no move to take it. A sharp brow arched at the hesitation and the small cell phone snapped open in warning; a diligent thumb hovering above the keypad. Jaejoong flinched and visibly recoiled.
This whole situation was wrong. So incredibly wrong. It was degrading, demeaning, humiliating! But.. what choice did he have? Eat out of the palm of that disgusting mans hand like a common animal, or forfeit his band mates’ lives? There really was no choice, was there?
Swallowing his pride, and what little of his dignity he maintained, Jaejoong surrendered to the unthinkable.
Eien watched in morbid fascination as plump lips finally parted and unwillingly rose to the waiting hand. He held the treat just a fraction higher as the singer rose to take it, forcing the youth to strain and lift off his haunches like a mutt, begging to be fed. The Japanese man could not help but grin in delight as the boy begrudgingly took the biscuit between his teeth and pulled the morsel from his grip.
The Korean was positively appalled.
The boys’ features tightened in disgust, nose curling as he very carefully kept his tongue and lips as far from the little biscuit as possible. Fingers clenched in the hem of his sweater, twisting the soft fabric and his head fell forward, hiding his shame beneath a curtain of soiled ebony.
“Now, now. No hiding.” Eien chastised softly in that same, bland tone accompanied by a firm hand that slipped into those long strands of sticky silk. The man almost seemed to pet him for a moment, stroking through the blood clotted mane before grasping tightly and without warning. Jaejoong nearly lost his hold on the small dog treat when those vicious fingers yanked, jerking his face up for his tormentors viewing pleasure. His heart about leapt into his throat.
“Eat it.” The Japanese man commanded with just the barest hint of amusement.
Unable to meet that eager gaze, the vocalists’ eyes slipped close, brow knit firmly. With one last shaky breath and a deep swallow, pearly teeth parted and that tiny biscuit disappeared behind his lips. Silence plunged through the room like a bucket of ice water, the hollow echo of crunching and clacking teeth loud and disturbingly uncomfortable.
Eien savored every moment of it.
Only once the boys Adams apple bobbed with a hard swallow and a disgusted grimace painted itself across those loathsome features did he speak again.
“Does it taste good? Hmm? I’m sure you want more.” The mad man teased, slipping his grip from the youth’s hair to cup his chin. Jaejoong refused to answer. He refused to even open his eyes, instead preferring to retreat into himself and a violent wave of self-depreciation and anger.
He couldn’t believe what this man was making him do. Worse, he couldn’t believe he’d actually done it…
“Do you want more?” That hateful voice cut through his thoughts like a machete, drawing him back out no matter how deeply he delved to escape him. Frowning, Jaejoong jerked from those grasping fingers and shook his head sharply. A telling creak followed by the familiar tone of several buttons being pushed on that damnable cell phone echoed through the room and the singer instantly froze; tense as a piece of rawhide.
“Wrong answer.” Eien warned calmly. “Do. You. Want. More?” This time, Jaejoong could do little more then sink into himself. Knowing what the man wanted, he offered a miniscule nod.
“Say it.”
The singer swallowed, eyes clenched in shame. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?” The Japanese man prodded, watching the boy squirm. Ah, it was pure heaven.
“…Yes.. I.. I want more..”
God it was too perfect! “Ask like a good boy, and I’ll feed you.”
Pearly teeth descended into a bruised lip, slicing battered flesh as he struggled with himself, straining not to give in. The familiar sound of another set of buttons being dialed spurred him in to speaking. Sighing, the singer hung his head and whispered, “..May.. May I have more?”
“Of course.” The man smirked.
Instead of that hand disappearing again into the recesses of his pocket, the Japanese man glanced up and nodded at the stoic figure hovering by the door. Xiao Wen turned, rapping against the metal and the structure swung open. Hands disappeared before returning carting their burden to the boy kneeling in the center of the room.
Eyes widened in shocked horror.
Even through the uncomfortable gray blur that dominated his waking world, the shape of two tin pet dishes being lowered before his knees was unmistakable. The odor of wet dog chow was pungent, almost foul even, wafting up his nostrils like smoke. The aroma lodged itself in his throat and grated against his tongue, and he felt his stomach squirm in protest.
“Eat.” Eien insisted, the hand resting in the singers’ hair almost fondly petting him as one would caress a beloved animal. The smirk in his voice however, was like a slap in the face.
When did that man move behind him?
Jaejoong immediate balked, shaking his head almost violently and scurried back slamming into the firm pillar of muscular legs. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he really shouldn’t. But this? This was just inhumane.
“Be a good mutt and do as you’re told.” The Japanese man commanded, patting the young man’s head one last time before almost violently shoving him forward. The singer stumbled beneath the sudden push, his broken digits colliding with a hard boot and he gasped, loosing his balance. A fist curled in the Korean’s hair and before Jaejoong could yelp in protest his cheek became quick acquaintances with the side of the first dog dish. Water sloshed from the second as his bandaged hand struck the lip and he hissed in pain, trying to pull away from the foul offering.
But the Japanese man held firm, bent over the boys back, his grip like iron in that dark hair. The Chinese man watched quietly, a strange almost displeased look flitting behind his eyes as he leaned against the wall. His attention strayed from the demeaning display, choosing instead to worship the angles and curves of the slim youths form. It was far more alluring.
“Come now. You asked for more. Now eat it.” Eien smirked, lowering the phone, slow and obvious to lie next to the large dish the boy was currently thrust upon. Doe-eyes watched, gazing intently at that illuminated screen flashing a waiting number and Eien could not help but shiver in delight at the dejection he read in those milky orbs.
The child was not broken, no, not yet.
But he was definitely starting to crack.
Grinning like the Cheshire cat, the Japanese madman slipped his free hand around the base of the boy’s neck, yanking his head back and turned. Before the singer could protest his lips and nose were shoved cruelly into the sticky brown matter sloppily piled in the small tin receptacle. Black orbs widened in shock and he desperately clamped down the urge to gasp or risk ingesting a sample of the disgusting concoction. His good hand scrambled across the concrete, squirming beneath his pinned frame to clutch at the rim of the bowl, struggling to push it way.
A heavy heel suddenly appeared, stomping down on the straining appendage, grinding his palm into the rough ground. Jaejoong groaned, glancing up at the blurred figure that pain-giving foot belonged to. And almost instantly he wished he hadn’t.
Xiao Wen lowered into a crouch while he kept an ample supply of pressure on that trapped hand, a lecherous smirk curling slender lips as he grasped the discarded phone. An idle thumb toyed with the device, starting and stopping the call several times, and Eien snorted in amusement. It was when that red heads free hand slipped down, tracing the tattoo of bruises circling the youths’ wrist that Jaejoong could no longer keep his mouth shut. As those disgusting fingers dipped beneath his sleeve, inching their way up his shaking arm he gasped in revulsion and jerked, trying to pull away; but so thoroughly pinned and hedged in by two much larger, much stronger bodies, he had no where to go.
The instant his lips parted, Eien surged forward cramming the now open cavern into the foul smelling mixture of meat.
The instant that putrid concoction slid passed his teeth and coated his tongue, Jaejoong felt physically ill. Promise or no, he could not keep from squirming violently, trying to force the unwanted morsels from his mouth. The Japanese man merely tightened his grip, thrusting the boys lips deeper into the bowl keeping the ample bite firmly lodged in that unwilling orifice.
The body bent against itself trembled in his hold; he could feel those delicious shivers sliding through the boys neck and down his back. And was that, oh yes, that was a whimper.
Eien all but moaned in delight, so thoroughly enjoying the Korean’s humiliation he paid little attention to his subordinate or his wandering hand.
“Swallow it.” The man ordered, allowing his fingers to play at the boys pulse points once again weakening those pathetic struggles. Jaejoong shook his head as best he could, eyes clenched and stinging. “Swallow it, and I’ll let you up.” Eien reasoned, shifting to dig a sharp elbow into the youths’ spine for added leverage. Again Jaejoong refused, clinging to the last shred of dignity he possessed like a drowning man to driftwood. His captor repaid his defiance with another vicious shove forcing even more of the horrid pet food into that filled cavern.
A rough chunk slipped over his tongue, butting into the back of his throat and disappeared down the channel as another shove sent him deeper into the dish. The horrid morsel lodge itself in his unprepared esophagus and immediately the singers’ body convulsed with the force of several ragged coughs. Damp eyes clamped shut as he gasped and sputtered and squirmed, struggling to keep from choking while his tormentor simply continued to force more of the foul meat morsels into his mouth. He’d never felt so utterly and completely helpless in his entire life.
As the boy’s lungs began to burn from lack of proper oxygen, and his throat ached and heaved, he quickly realized he had no choice.
Sucking down a breath through his nose, Jaejoong’s entire body tensed with revulsion and he swallowed. The first bit slipped down his throat, sticking slightly before passing without further issue. But he knew he could not consume the entire mouthful without chewing. Even soft as it was, he would surely choke.
Slowly sinking beneath a wave of shame, the singer quietly and quickly chewed the horrid mixture, willing his stomach to calm as the mere flavor sent nausea like a spike through his belly. In moments, that to him, felt like hours, the mouthful was quickly masticated and disappeared down his throat.
True to his word, shockingly, Eien pulled his face from the bowl with a chuckle. “Good boy.” The man praised, releasing the death grip on sable strands to offer a demeaning pat. Smeared lips quivered, and dark eyes, flooded with humiliation and self-loathing, remained firmly shut, blocking out the cruelness of his world as the singer struggled to still an angry stomach.
The Japanese man watched his captive tremble and pant, and he grinned in pleasure as another crack in the boys infallible façade of strength appeared. Leaning forward, he pressed close to that tiny figure, molding into his back to absorb that sweet, sweet quivering. Thin lips pressed into a cold ear and Jaejoong jerked away.
“I wonder what the world would say, if they could see you now.” Eien purred, cruel and low, and a shiver of euphoria slithered through his own figure as the Korean tensed in abject horror.
No! He wouldn’t!... Would he?
Doe-eyes rose, darting about the room half expecting to find a camera of some sort tucked unobtrusively in one of the blurry corners. He didn’t know what he would do if someone saw... if they saw him like this.. bowing and begging like an animal. It would more then devastate him.. It would ruin him… ‘Oh god. Please! Please don’t let there be a camera in here.’ The Japanese man laughed again, thumbing a chunk of dog food from the boys jaw almost caringly before thrusting the bite against Jaejoong’s lips. The singer turned away, a hand rising to press against his abdomen.
A knock on the door echoed through the room suddenly and Jaejoong was unsure if he should be relieved or terrified.
“What?” Eien barked as the metal portal cracked open. And just like that, the strange mans jovial manner vanish replaced by the all too familiar tightly coiled rage.
“Sir. Another has returned.” Yosuke informed, flat and disinterested. The madman’s lip twitched in irritation before he nodded sharply and waved the stoic man away.
“I’ll be right there.” He growled curtly, giving the boys’ skull another deep shove sending his face back into that disgusting serving of inedible mush. “Now, pet, be a good little doggy and eat all your dinner while I’m gone.” Eien purred mockingly, patting those mussed locks before standing. Jaejoong wasted no time in scrambling away from the bowl as that malicious presence retreated from the barricade at his back and eagerly averted his gaze. Shame and hatred boiled like lava through his innards, stinging and violent and he feared he would be sick.
“I’ll be back soon. Don’t you worry, boy. We’ll have you trained properly in no time.” The evil man promised with a cheeky grin before both figures disappeared. The room plunged into darkness once again as that heavy door slammed shut.
Jaejoong lurched to his feet, stumbling through the tiny cell and scurried towards the small tin commode perched in the corner. The boy barely managed to make it to his knees before vomit and bile surged up his abused throat and bubbled passed his lips. A violated stomached seized, forcefully rejecting every last crumb of sustenance and projected it quite violently into the tiny bowl hovering beneath his face. Over and over and over his body convulsed, expelling everything inside him until his shoulders trembled and dry heaves forced ragged gasps into the air.
Near quaking with effort, the lead singer slid bonelessly to the ground, hissing as his back thudded into the unforgiving wall. A trembling hand grasped the hem of his sweater, desperately wiping the mess from his face as he fought back the violent urge to break down. He would not cry. He couldn’t, no matter how desperately he may need the release. Clenched eyes stung unnaturally, and despite his resolve he found it hard to refuse the desire to let that pain build until it overflowed. But, somehow, he held strong.
Jaejoong had never felt more humiliated in all his life.
He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to hide, he wanted to take that tin bowl and bash it over that foul mans head until he stopped moving, he wanted to rant and rave and bellow his rage and shame to the world. Anything, he’d do absolutely anything to alleviate this horrible ache clutching at his chest, stealing his breath; threatening to destroy him.
This, this griping hatred, this painful disgust, this… this crushing mortification.. How was he supposed to fight this?
Hesitant eyes rose, flickering over the remains of his recent debacle left so caringly to mock him. Even if he could not see it through the shadows, he could smell it and it made him ill.
He could still feel those hands in his hair, on his skin, he could see those languid revolting smirks, he could feel that cold mush against his lips.. He could.. He could still taste….
Oh god.
His stomach roiled in protest and his fingers clenched in the folds of warm wool and cable knit.
Anger, no, self loathing, rage, shame, absolute and utter abhorrence warred for attention, bubbling up his throat, tangible and foul on his tongue. The foreign drive to lash out, to hit, to hurt, something, anything washed through his shaking form like fire, burning all rationality in its wake. Stumbling to his knees, Jaejoong all but dove at that tin dog dish heaping with foul cuts of meat, snatching it from the cement. With one gut wrenching bellow fueled by all the rage and self-hatred he could muster, the singer hurled the offending bowl sending it careening into the metal door with a loud clang and an uncomfortable sticky splat.
The empty dish clattered to the floor, the spilled remnants of dog food slipping their way across steel to patter in a rain of brown matter and muck onto the ground.
Shaking, nearly gasping beneath the violence of his emotions, the boy collapsed onto his side, turning away from those bitter reminders and curled into himself. Desperate fingers dove into his hair, clutching, grasping, as if physically struggling to force those painful memories from his mind.
The eerie quiet that blanketed the tiny cell felt heavy, oppressive, and he couldn’t quite recall a single instance where he had felt more alone then he did in that moment.
Nor, could he remember a time when he was so desperately relieved to be.
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TBC....
Authors Note: I’m so sorry for all the delays with this story. I have been battling terrible writers block as well as several health issues. I probably shouldn’t be posting with how many issues I am having writing, but I feel so bad making you wait. So, here is the next installment. I hope you enjoy it. It was a bit harder to write, I’ve never written humiliation like this before. So if Ive gone to far, forgive me. But I felt it was important to portray psychological torture as well as physical. As always, thank you to those who read and comment. I truly appreciate every single post from you all. I am sorry I wasn’t able to reply to the comments on the last chapter on time, as I said I’ve had a lot of problems. But I treasure every single one and I intend to get back into the habit of replying quickly no matter what. Anyway, thanks again for reading. All comments, questions and critiques are greatly appreciated.
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