Dig Your Fingernails Into My Chest and Pull Out My Heart

Rip It From My Skin

December 18th, An Hour To December 19th, 1981

There's a moments pause, where it's just Steven staring down Johnny, and Johnny staring down Steven. The only noise comes from him nervously flicking the butterfly knife open and closed, watching as brown eyes go to it, twitching nervously like it's about to be used. Steven pushes himself up the bookshelf that he leaned against, gripping the knife like it was a lifeline. Neither say anything as Johnny steps from the doorway into the bedroom, slamming the door shut, twisting the lock. Steven ignores the way his stomach flips at the gesture. He's read enough cheesy romance novels to know where that would usually lead.

But that's not where this is going. Not for him at least because Johnny surges towards him, and Steven can feel one of the rings on his fingers make contact with bone of his jaw, as usual, and it sends him down. He cries out as his head bounces off one of the shelves. He glances up to Johnny, who's face is neutral and solid, like stone, though the slight twitch of his eyebrows makes Steven believe that he's trying to hold back some sort of emotion that's threatening to break through.

And that's when it leads to a sort of goose chase around the room. Steven makes a desperate dash for his window, shoving anything he could off his desk, pushing the screen open, though Johnny grabs his waist, tugging him back down into the room. He yelps, his back making contact with the carpet as he's shoved down, another punch landing flat on his nose. He arches his back, a sickening crack echoing out as Johnny continues to deliver swift punches to his face. He finds his strength after another hit almost breaks his nose, and he shoves Johnny off of him, who lands on his ass next to the edge of his bed. Steven clambers over to the door, his fingers shaky as he attempts to unlock it, flinging it open when he hears the click. He can barely stand, his body already too weak from his lack of food consumption and the heavy beating he just received. He steadies himself against the railing, gasping out, blood dripping into the wood.

Arms once again snake around his waist, tugging him back, and Steven almost cries as he's shoved back into his room, the door shutting once more. He's manhandled to the ground, his back shoved against the carpet, with the jumper he was wearing riding up over his skin. Johnny shoves him as he moves, and Steven can feel a rug burn ignite itself along the blades of his shoulders and the small of his back. He has to hold back the loud shriek that almost escapes him.

There's suddenly a heavy weight on his lower body as Johnny's knee digs into him, just below where his stomach turns into his v-line. It's a startling feeling that makes him squirm, trying to lift his knees up in an attempt to hide his body. Instead, his knee hooks onto the back of Johnny's, who almost comes crashing down onto him, though he quickly steadies himself. Steven watches as this beautiful dark haired boy reaches over, grasping loosely at the butterfly knife laying vacantly in front of the bookshelf. He hears it click open, watching as Johnny poorly flips it, raising it high above his head, before slamming it down.

At first, the pain doesn't register. It's a simple, numb humming in Steven's chest. And then, it's there; a sharp, intensely stabbing pain, his skin burst just below a rib, punctured by the butterfly knife that Johnny pressed more weight into. Blood is bubbling up, visible circles decorating the edge of the wound before breaking shape and rolling down his body, staining his carpet.

There's a couple of noises that Steven makes that he's not entirely proud of, one of which being a high pitched scream of a curse as he jerks under Johnny's touch, moaning in pain as the knife moves under his skin. He can feel every time it's shoved to any side, sending tingles up his body, like thousands of spiders found their way under his flesh and were now crawling towards his brain to lay their eggs there. His fingertips feel funny, his legs feel funny, everything feels funny. He might be suffering from blood loss, on the verge of passing out because he has eaten a bagel today and that had been it.