Stockholm Syndrome

Blood

My arms hurt. My head hurt. My mind hurt. My heart hurt. Every part of me ached. I didn't have the energy to lift my head, let alone move. My wrists were killing me and I was worried that the cuts Derp had given me days ago got infected. Suddenly, the door to my cell banged open, slamming into the stone wall. I heard a guttural snarl and forced my head up, my pupils dilating in fear when I saw the very person standing in the doorway, taking great shuddering breaths, his hand gripping his knife so tightly his knuckles had gone white. He leapt down the stairs in one; I felt the atmosphere change around him as he stood up straight, his crooked eyes glowing bright crimson, teeth bared. "D-Derp?" He twitched spasmodically, snarling again. I whimpered in fear as he took a step towards me, a threatening, hostile aura radiating off of him. Then, he bolted forward, stabbing the knife into my side. I yelled in pain as he twisted it, a demented laugh spiralling free from him. "SCREAMS, KNIVES, AHAHAHA!" "D-Derp, s-stop!" I cried out as he wrenched the knife out, my insides twisting as I watched him draw away. Tears of suffering and terror ran down my face as he brought the knife close to his face. My stomach wrenched as ran his tongue along the blade, grinning psychotically as he swallowed. "Y-you...WHAT THE HELL-!" The knife stabbed into me again, being dragged through my flesh, deeper and deeper till I screamed, the metal scraping against my bone.

I sobbed in pain as he moved closer to me, straddling me and pressing the knife blade to my throat. His face was so close to mine, his hot breath on my skin. Strangled cries kept escaping me as I tried to move away from him. He twisted his fingers into my hair, jerking my head forward again. "N-no e-escape Ian." Tears ran down my face as he pulled me closer, forcing his mouth onto mine. Shudders of disgust and twisted pleasure ran through my body as he forced his tongue between my lips, exploring my mouth. My tears ran into the kiss, fear and pain clashing with pleasure and lust. I wanted to get away from this psycho, but I couldn't. I didn't have the energy or willpower to fight back, my life and blood draining out of the deep gouges and wounds in my body. Derp growled and I whimpered as the reverberations from it went through me. I used all my remaining strength and courage, wrenching my head away from his and headbutting him hard. He yelped in pain and snarled, flicking the knife round and stabbing it into my shoulder. "You know what I said before...about the tortures?" I grit my teeth, tears running down my face. "Well...I was left in the dark...years ago now." He pushed the knife deeper and grinned as I cried out in pain. "They took me apart limb my limb, until the only part of me I recognised were my eyes. Then they left me in the dark. It wasn't the pain that took my sanity, it was the darkness." He hissed, wrenching the knife out and watching the blood running free from the wound. "Darkness..." He whispered, his crooked filling with tears. Then my head slumped back against the chair and my vision went black.
***
Blood. It ran free. Dripped onto the ground. Mingled with tears. So warm and red. Sky Eyes' screams echo still. Ripples pass through my mind. My broken mind. The needles' pain inflicted on me still wracks my soul, forcing me to hurt and kill. I stare at Ian. His head is resting back against the chair, he's barely breathing. I could stab him now. Could take the knife and stab into his yielding flesh, driving it deeper and deeper till it tears his heart apart. My breathing is heavy. I see Rose's eyes in my mind. This is not you Joseph, fight the bloodlust, or it will incapacitate you forever. I lean against the chair, watching his life drain away, drain out of his body and onto the cold stone floor. I touched my forehead to his, kissing his lips softly. I don't know what I feel for this prisoner. It was an obsession. An all consuming need to feel, taste, kiss and hurt him. His screams had fed my passion, making it grow into an animal that had taken host inside my mind. I would never take advantage of him in this state though. The animal wants to, but something inside is stopping me. I step away, shaking as I realise what I've done. There's blood everywhere; on my clothes, on his skin. The knife clenched in my hand is dripping with it. He's growing paler by the minute. I can't face what I've done. I run like a coward. I leave him to die.
***
Stop. Think. Breathe. It's not your fault. You only knew him as a friend. I ran my fingers over the yellowed document paper and brown bloodstains. A bold title. SUBJECT 304. I opened it and froze. It was like a scene from a horror movie. In the black and white photo, I could see a young boy lying on a steel examination table. Randel was standing beside it, and an old assistant of his was pulling on a pair of surgical gloves. Randel was holding a scalpel in one hand and a knife in the other, his eyes narrowed in concentration and his mouth pulled back into a sadistic grin. Tears pricked at my eyes. That poor boy was going to be tied down and torn apart over and over again, his body being moulded into anothers'. They tried to make him exactly the same as SSundee; he was 2 years younger than Ian, so they had to accelerate his ageing process. I flipped through the pages, a faded picture of his face on each page. There was a date on each one. They had achieved their goal, there were numerous mathematic calculations and notes. They told that they had managed to speed up his ageing process so that on average he aged 2 days for every one. It was freakishly impossible, and must've been caused him pain beyond belief. I frowned. Apparently, they tried to replace his voicebox with one that had been created to match Ian's exactly. He woke up halfway through the procedure though and they sliced his vocal cords open.

That would explain why his voice sounded like Ian's had been twisted and stretched to the point of almost beyond recognition. I was shaking, but still forced myself to carry on reading. It only got worse. They didn't like his eyes, so they tried to replace them. The new ones wouldn't take though and he was left blind for a week. Blind and in agony. Finally, they took out those eyes and having preserved the old ones, put them back in. They put them in wrong though and they ended up swivelling round and staying that way, slightly loose in their sockets. That was why his eyes were so crooked. After several more horror stories, mainly about problems they had with his internal organs, I arrived at the last page. A before and after. Before; a young, 16 year old boy with beautiful blue eyes and a beaming smile. After; a 25 year old being from hell. Crooked eyes that stared out at you in hate and hostility, face twisted in a snarl, shirtless with disturbing, knotted scars and slashes round his middle. If you had given him clothes identical to SSundee's and got him to close his eyes, they might've accomplished their mission to create a clone. But the second you delved deeper under the skin and found the scars that ran deeper, beneath the surface, you knew it was all a lie. It was all in his eyes; his tortured and crooked eyes. I closed the folder full of notes and documents and put it back down gently on the Professor's desk.

I bent down and opened a draw marked with the same two words as the document title. My eyes widened when I saw the sheer amount of photographs and papers inside. They had documented every single thing they had done to him. Suddenly, I heard distant footsteps. My heart stopped. If Randel found me here, I was dead meat. I grabbed as many photos and files as I could hold, kicked the tray shut and bolted out of the office, running down the corridor and into the shadows outside of my room. I was careful though. I was quite literally holding Derp's life in my hands. I could never let him see these documents though. He could never know that he had been a complete failure, suffered for years upon years in darkness and agony for nothing. Nearly died so many times. It was impossible to think that the picture of the happy young boy I'd been staring at a few seconds ago, was the very same person who's broken body I'd held yesterday after Randel injected the control serum into his bloodstream. I kicked my bedroom door open and shut behind me, dropping my armfuls of papers onto the floor and lighting my bedside candle. The flickering firelight washed over the photographs and it looked like Derp's eyes were filled with flames. I just hoped that wherever he was, he was ok...