Stitches ~ Scömìche

I'm Aching

Scott sat across from Detective Adams, who was scribbling in a yellow notebook. Scott just watched his hand move across the pages, unable to read the words that were being carelessly carved onto the paper.

"What did this Abe look like?" The detective finally asked, taking his pen away from the paper. Scott didn't answer for a moment, trying to replace Mitch's face in his head. But all he could see was the man he loved, the man that was torn away from him. And Scott was so close. Mitch was within his grasp. He was so close and now he couldn't be further away.

"He had..." Scott started, his anger fueling his descriptions of Abe. His voice shook as he described Abe, but he kept the words flowing, anything to find Mitch. Anything to bring that man back into his arms. 

"And Mitch? The victim he took?" Scott cringed at the word victim. Yes, Mitch was a victim, he would always be a victim and that's what bothered Scott. Mitch would be forced to live with this title forever, Abe had done more than stripped Mitch of his freedom. Abe had stripped Mitch of everything he was. Reinventing who he was with words like victim. Mitch was a kidnapping victim and now people would see his face and think of him as only that. Not as the strong, amazing man he was, but as someone who had seen horrors and he would always be treated that way.

"Scott?" Adams asked bringing him out of his thought. Scott forced his eyes to focus on the man in front of him. "What does Mitch look like?" 

"Broken," Was the first word out of his mouth, because it was true. Scott never saw his smile anymore. His eyes seemed to be hiding darker secrets, and just looking at him made you feel worse. "But beautiful." He followed. In Mitch's weakness there was still strength. His eyes, although sad, held fire. He was burning with passion. He had been through so much yet had never seemed to lose who he was. 

To Scott these words were true. He hadn't been there to see Mitch slowly fall apart, slowly tear himself apart. He hadn't been there to see the blood and tears. He hadn't been there to see the consumption of alcohol. He hadn't experienced abandonment. Scott in no way knew what Mitch was going through. But how could he? Scott wasn't there. Scott wasn't there now. In the end it was always Mitch. No matter how hard people tried to get close to him, Mitch always ended up alone.

"Scott? You trailed off and never continued." Detective Adams drew Scott away from his black hole of thoughts. 

"Where was I?" Scott asked shaking his head, trying to clear it of the thought fogging his mind from the thoughts at hand. 

"Something about his hair..." Detective Adams trailed off looked up at Scott.

"Right... Um, his hair..." Scott felt like he was just droning on, and suddenly he was no longer aware of the words spilling from his lips. 

"Scott?" Once again the Detective brought him back. "Your rambling, perhaps you should go get some rest. We'll find him, I promise." Scott nodded distractedly and soon found himself lying in bed, wondering how he managed to get here.