Psychotic (boyxboy)

Chapter Seven

a/n: fuck. sorry everyone. i was having t e r r i b l e writer's block and couldn't think of anything... or get the motivation to write. sorry sorry sorry.

Mitch paced in the kitchen, throwing fleeting glances over at Scott's still body. A small pool of blood was framing his face, coming from the gash hidden in his hair. It was a lovely contrast against the ivory tile that made up the kitchen floor. Mitch's eyes narrowed and with a low snarl of frustration, he kicked Scott to the side, needing a way to vent his rage without screaming. The large man simply hit the cupboard and flopped back onto his back, a low groan passing through his lips.

Mitch bit his lip, feeling uncharacteristically distressed. He swallowed and looked at the door accusingly, half prepared for the police to barge in. With a quiet hiss, he whirled around and glared at Scott. "You ruined everything!" He spat and bent down, grabbing his ankle. Mitch did a test drag and shrugged. Scott was heavy, but he could do it. With a huff, he dragged Scott down the hall to the bedroom, the man's body banging against various corners. As soon as Mitch got to the room, he dropped Scott and fled, barricading the door once again.

A couple of hours later, Scott woke up to a pounding head and aching body. He groaned and opened his eyes, squinting at the ceiling, wondering where he was. With a groan, he realized he was back in his room, though it was beginning to feel more like a prison. Scott sat up and clutched his head as a wave of dizziness crashed into him. He kept his position for a few more moments before climbing to his feet.

Scott's entire body swayed as dizziness, as well as nausea, flooded his senses once again. He stumbled to the door and grasped the handle, trying to force the door open. A shriek of pure frustration exploded from Scott and he slammed his fist against the wood. Anger blinded him for a few moments.

"Let me out, you piece of shit!" He shouted through the wood, banging against the door several times. He hushed for a few moments, trying to sense any movement outside the door. Nothing happened and he groaned, pounding the door once more before falling back.

Scott shuffled to his bed and sat down, letting his head fall into his hands. He inhaled deeply and released a shuddering breath, trying to wrangle in his emotions. He had never felt this frustrated, angry, or defeated in all his life. He peeked through his fingers and gazed at the window, calculating his chances of surviving if he jumped out.

Deciding it would be a slim chance, Scott shook his head and wandered over to his closet. He was still dizzy and just wanted to sleep. He froze at the thought and shuddered. The last time he fell asleep, he woke up to being sexually assaulted. Scott gulped and cleared out some space under a rack full of his clothes. With a quiet mumble, he crawled under the rack and balled himself up, wanting to feel tiny. Maybe Mitch wouldn't find him here.

Scott stared at the closet door, struggling to stay awake, terrified about what may happen if he dozed off. His stomach released a loud noise of protest and he whimpered, curling into a tighter ball. Besides being punched in the face and assaulted sexually, being hungry was one of Scott's least favorite things. Wanting to keep his mind off it, he grasped the air, trying to find something to keep himself occupied. His hand landed on a thin pamphlet and he pulled it closer, gazing at it longingly. With a sigh, he opened it and begin reading, angling the words towards the scarce source of lighting coming from his bedroom.

Mitch sat on the couch, staring at the door with a blank expression, waiting for something to happen. His fingers trembled relentlessly, refusing to stop until he sat on them. He couldn't focus on anything, only just barely hearing Scott scream at him to release him from the room.

The voices in his head were going crazy, swearing at him and telling him to get it together. Mitch tilted his head, listening and slowly came to. The trembling ceased and his original smirk replaced his fearful expression.

He was back.

With a happy hum and a bounce in his step, Mitch headed off towards Scott's bedroom. Once he arrived, he began pulling the furniture away from the front of the door. When the path was clear, he entered.

Mitch's dark gaze scanned the dim room, confusion tickling his brain. Where was Scott?

"Scotty," He sang, walking around the room. He checked under the blankets and under the bed first, frowning when the blonde man still wasn't present. "Come out, sweetie." Mitch scanned the room silently, narrowing his eyes in confusion. Where could he be?

With another sweep of the room, Mitch checked off the places he looked and the places Scott could not have been. With almost everything ticked off, he was left with one option: the closet. It was rather silly how Mitch couldn't think of that immediately. The closet was almost always a go-to for his other victims, and was usually the first place he looked.

Giggling, Mitch crossed the room in a few graceful strides and tore open the closet door. His giggles turned into loud laughter when he heard Scott shriek in fear. "I found you!" He leaned down, observing Scott's fetal position. What he didn't expect, however, was the blinding pain that erupted in his nose when Scott headbutted him.

Mitch shouted in pain and stumbled back, holding his face in a state of shock. That was a first. Scott wiggled out of the closet and took off at a speed that surprised both of them. "Get back here!" Mitch screamed and darted after him. Scott was having a difficult time weaving around the various obstacles planted around the apartment. Panic blossomed in Mitch's chest. He was almost at the door!

With a short burst of speed, Mitch managed to fly forward and wrapped his arms around Scott's waist. The extra weight added with the momentum sent both men crashing to the ground, with Mitch being on top. Scott grunted and tried to get away. He could practically taste the freedom.

Mitch was seething. "You filthy, slippery whore," He snarled into Scott's ear, causing him to stop struggling in fear. "How dare you think you can run from me? No one has ever gotten away. Fuck! I should kill you right now. No, slaughter you. I should rip your hair out one strand at a time. Or maybe I should take to the Chelsea's Smile. Personal favorite," He broke off into a crazed giggle. Scott was scared shitless by this point. "Or maybe I should fuck you with my knife. You don't seem like a bottom, but I'm sure you'll love it."

Scott shook his head. There was nothing pleasant about being penetrated with a knife. He gulped and started struggling again.

"If you don't stop, I'll do all of them."

That got him to stop. Scott's breathing turned ragged as he tried not to panic. He should just scream. Someone would have to hear him. They had to.

Mitch chuckled dementedly and grabbed two fistfuls of Scott's hair. "My nose better not be bruised," he pouted. "I don't look good bruised." Scott gritted his teeth, reaching up to smack Mitch's hand. The angle was too awkward, so he lowered his head. Mitch yanked his head back sharply, gigging when a soft cry of pain left Scott. "Did I hurt you, baby? What. A. Shame." At the last syllable, Mitch slammed Scott's head into the floor.

"Fuck!" Scott swore, his head pounding even more. A cut above his eyebrow opened, sending streams of warm blood down his face.

"Woopsies!" Mitch giggled and did it again. And again. And again.

Scott couldn't see properly anymore. "Stop," he whispered. "Please..."

Mitch cackled as if that was the funniest thing he had heard in years. "This is your punishment, silly!" He said in a condescending tone, shaking his head in amusement. Scott moaned. His head wasn't throbbing anymore; blinding flashes of pain whitened his vision. Blood trickled down his face, staining the rug he was laying on. He couldn't help but wonder how to get blood out carpet. He would need to.

Mitch yanked Scott's head back, reading to slam it into the floor once more when three rapid knocks filled the room. They both froze, unsure of what to do. With a growl, Mitch got to his feet and ripped the door open, using his body to hide Scott's bloody form. His eyes dropped to the petite blonde girl standing before him.

"Hi," She said, her voice hesitant. "Is Scott home?"

a/n: heh