Stitches ~ Scömìche

Gonna Wind Up Dead

Scott stood in front of the microwave, watching the cheap frozen meal he had picked up, cook. He silently cursed himself for picking the one that took so long to cook. His stomach was protesting loudly, ignoring Scott's scolding. Then again, his stomach didn't exactly have ears, so it would have been more surprising if it did respond. Scott found himself ambling over to his laptop, pulling up Google and tapping in the name that had been floating around his head for what seemed like eternity.

And there he was. Articles about his first kidnapping, articles about his second, images of him during Pentatonix days, which were cut short (due to Mitch's kidnapping). Scott didn't feel the tears pouring from his eyes until they splashed onto the keys of his computer. He clicked on an image of Mitch, he was laughing, his eyes smiling, something that never happened anymore. He stared at it, wishing and hoping that this was all a dream and one day he would wake up and everything would be okay. He wished he could find Mitch and just hold him in his arms, hold him and whisper that everything would be okay. Deep down, Scott knew that nothing would be okay, even if they managed to find Mitch alive, he would never be the same. Not after this. 

The microwave beeped, causing Scott to jump. He put his head in his hands, trying to assure himself that it was only the microwave. Ever since he became sober, he had this nagging feeling that someone was watching, so much so that he had to check every corner of every room until he was positive it was safe. The microwave kept screaming at him and Scott felt himself growing irritated. 

"Shut up!" He yelled turning to the microwave. "I'm coming you piece of shit!" Surprisingly he didn't feel like a complete moron after yelling at a kitchen appliance, instead he got from his seat and pulled his meal from the 'piece of shit', nearly burning his finger on the sauce. He slid it towards his laptop, ignoring the sauce that splashed over the sides of the cardboard container and left drops of it on his kitchen table. He stabbed at it, and although he was starving before, he no longer felt hungry. 

After just simply stabbing at it, he pushed it away, and ran a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling. And that was when a hand closed around his nose and mouth. Scott struggled, but soon enough everything turned black. 

~*~

"Is this because of Scott?" Abe yelled bringing up his hand as if to strike Mitch. "Because you think you love him?" Mitch had regained his confidence, scratching and spitting at Abe, demanding for release, insisting that he didn't love him. 

"This is about the fact that you've kept me here against my will," Mitch replied, wishing he wasn't restrained so he could punch Abe straight in the nose. 

"Oh, so now I'm the bad guy?"

"You've always been the bad guy!" Mitch yelled exasperated. Abe's fists shook in anger.

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

"Never! You can't control me, Abe! I'm not some sort of animal you can tame!" Mitch screamed and felt the sting of Abe's slap, but that wouldn't even get him to stop. "You're just some brute who has unrealistic dreams and I could never love you! I don't even want to be near you!" 

"Alright, you won't listen to me? Let's see if we can fix that." And with that Abe left the room, making sure the slam the door so hard some of the pictures fell off the wall.