Something Wild

Chapter 8

WARNING! This chapter contains violence and mentions of alcohol! Happy reading!

Hiccup's POV

I did as I was told and walked out of the door, flashing a quick smile at Jack as I left. He didn't turn around, but he saw in a mirror and smiled back. I walked out onto the wooden deck and into the bunker room, inspecting my surroundings.

The room had two twin beds pushed against opposite walls, one made nicely and the other messy and stained. There was an oak wood dresser with three drawers, one bursting to the brim with clothing. Over on the opposite wall to the dresser there were five huge water containers and a case of... beer! It had been so long since I'd seen beer! I had been so wrapped up in everything at the facility that I hadn't even thought about it, but now I had alcohol again! I picked up a beer can and popped it open, smelling it and sitting down on the messy bed. I stopped for a moment before chugging it and remembered how terribly I did with alcohol, but I shrugged it off. One couldn't hurt, right?

Jack's POV

It had been almost ten hours since I had sent Hiccup out! I hadn't even realized, and the sun was going down already! It shouldn't be taking this long, could it? Something must be wrong. I stopped the boat for a moment and walked out onto the deck and into the next room. As soon as I entered I was hit with the smell of alcohol, the stench infecting my nose and making my head ache. I took a step forward and felt something metallic crush under my feet; a beer can. I looked at the floor, cans strewn all over, most empty or leaking slightly. I followed the trail to the bed closest to the door, and what sat there took me by surprise.

Hiccup.

He was passed out, his mouth drooling and trembling, his hands and feet twitching like a dog in a dream. He smelled even worse than the cans themselves, his shirt drenched in beer. He still held a can in his limp hand, half drunken, unlike him. He was fully drunken. I shook him by the shoulders, shouting in his drunk face.

"HICCUP! WAKE UP!" I he wouldn't budge, so I slapped him across the face, making him jolt up with a start.

"NO! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME DO ANYTHING!" He screamed at me, getting up and grabbing an empty bottle off the dresser.

"YOU SHITHEAD! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT I'M GOING TO DO TO YOU?" He yelled, swinging the bottle at me. I screamed and tried to run, but he grabbed my arm and stuck me in place. His eyes were bloodshot, drunken and mad. His entire body was shaking, yet his grip remained firm.

"You've been harassing me for too long. Well NOT ANYMORE!" He raised the bottle above his head, ready to smash it down on my face.

"Hiccup! What are you doing!" I cried in terror, hoping it would make him return. But it was hopeless. He smashed the bottle on my head, shards of glass raining in the air. Blood trickled down my face and pain consumed me, a large shard of glass still stuck in my face, huge gashes cut and pouring blood. I kicked him in the crotch, causing him to spin backwards and stumble, giving me the opportunity to punch him in the side of his head. He winced in pain and held the side of his head, but it didn't slow him down. It just enflamed the fire in his eyes.

"Oh, now you've done it Draco. You fucker, I'm not done with you. I'll never be done with you. I'm going to come back every time and beat your ass, and you're going to be sorry you ever met me, you little shit." And in that moment I was sorry I had met him. He punched me in the gut, backing me up against the wall. He grabbed a bloody knife that was wedged between the floorboards and stabbed in the wall beside me, holding my throat, his beer breath haunting me as his face drew closer.

"You're dead boy."

And with that, he went limp, his head dropping down and his entire body slumping to the floor, leaving the knife stabbed into the wall. He didn't move or make a sound, his body almost lifeless on the floor. I stood there for a moment, my breath skipping and hitching, my eyes fixated on his body. And then I looked over to the knife in the wall, and screamed. I just screamed, because that's all I could do.

I ran out of the room still screaming, removing the piece of glass from my bloody forehead before collapsing on the deck floor, crawling over to the railing of the deck and screaming until my throat hurt too much, and then I started crying. I just cried, my salty tears mixing with the metallic taste of my crimson blood on my cheeks. I cried loudly, bawling in pain and shock. My eyes start to haze over red, and my vision started to blur. I knew that if I didn't stop the blood soon I would pass out and possibly die, so I went into the small bathroom attracted to the cockpit. Once I stepped into the bathroom, I looked straight in the mirror at my bloody, tear stained wreck of a face and I started crying even harder. I buried my face in my hands and let my tears seep through my fingers; falling to the floor. I breathed in and out to stop the tears, my breath skipping like a record. I stopped crying momentarily, just log enough to cover the huge gash above my eyebrow with a bandage, wrapping it around my whole head. I took a bunch of painkillers I found in the medicine cabinet and looked at myself in the mirror again, my face blank and dead as night. My eyes were glassy with tears, and my shirt was bloodstained thoroughly.

This is what you get when you trust Hiccup Haddock, I thought, and my silent rage took over my body and left me to pilot the ship until the sun came up.