Stitches ~ Scömìche

And Now That I'm Without Your Kisses

Would any of you be interested in a sequel? Of course you'll have to finish this one first and all, and by then your mind might change, but I'm thinking about it and would appreciate your opinion. 

~Jo

~*~

Mitch's pants were too big, and this was a problem because he would go nowhere near a belt. He also hadn't done laundry, so this was his last pair of pants. Obviously they were from before the first kidnapping, seeing he lost a great deal of weight in those years. Mitch just stood in front of the mirror, holding onto the waistband of his bands, trying to keep them from slipping off his thin hips. Scott called him too skinny. Mitch called himself Abe free. Almost. 

In the back of his mind, Mitch thought that the more of him that there was, the more of him that there would be to remember. If he stopped eating and lost weight, there would be less of him, therefore less of him to remember. Mitch finally just dropped the pants, letting them pool around his ankles as he searched for a shirt that would cover up his bone effectively. He didn't want Scott to see how much weight he had lost.

Mitch had been able to keep up the false look that he was eating in front of Scott. Nibbling while he was there and scraping the rest down the garbage disposal when he was gone. Then forcing himself to puke up the bit that he had eaten. There needed to be less of him. He couldn't think of Abe. He couldn't--- he wouldn't, he refused to. And if this was the only way? So be it. He was willing to do whatever it took. He was willing to do whatever to get the feeling of Abe off of his skin. The feeling of a belt across his back, then the feeling as Abe tended it. The fluttering kisses across his collarbone as Abe apologized. His face when he grew angry. The very same face that haunted his dreams. The face he thought he was strangling. 

Mitch wanted--- needed Abe gone. Even from behind bars, Abe was killing him.