Psychotic (boyxboy)

Chapter Eleven

a/n: trigger. rape. self harm.

Scott felt strange. 

He thought he knew why. When was the last time he ate or had a glass of water? He made a face and rolled over on the bed so that his back was facing the window. His head was swirling and he felt shaky. Scott sat up and immediately felt as though he was going to black out. This was not good. With slow, deliberate movements, he slowly got out of bed and shuffled to the door, taking his time. 

He lifted a hand to the door and knocked. "M-mitch?" He asked, cringing at how hoarse and defeated his voice sounded. Scott strained his hearing, trying to figure out what the small brunet was doing outside of the door. Not hearing anything, he tried again. "Mitch?" 

"What?" Scott heard the muffled voice and stiffened automatically. How did he get there without him hearing? With a shake of his head, Scott began to explain.

"Can I make something to eat? Or grab some water?" He felt pathetic. How had he been reduced to having to ask to do something he's done for years. He made a trembling fist and released it almost immediately, not having the strength. 

Mitch was silent for a few moments. "I'll bring you some water. I don't think you've done anything to deserve food." Scott could practically see the cruel smirk he knew the man was making. He gritted his teeth and nodded, forgetting that Mitch couldn't see him. 

"'Kay..." 

This time, he was able to hear Mitch walking away from the door. He shut his eyes and slumped forward, trying to ease his shakiness. A few days without food or water was hell. How did he fast this long before?

Scott walked back to the bed and collapsed on top of it, staring up at the ceiling. He thought he saw some movement and jumped, his heart rate spiking in fear. It was nothing. "Great," he mumbled to himself, "I'm losing it."

He doesn't know how long he was sitting there in his dazed stupor, but when he came to, Mitch was crossing the room slowly, holding a single glass of water. Immediately, Scott's mouth went dry and he sat up, his eyes zeroed in on the glass. He could see three ice cubes floating around and the condensation beginning to build up on the side. Fuck, he was thirsty. 

Mitch's mouth curled up into a smile and he tilted his head, stopping in front of Scott. "So," he drawled, "You're thirsty?" Scott immediately nodded, briefly glancing up at him before looking back at the glass. Mitch giggled and shook his head. "I see." 

Scott frowned at the weird tone and looked up, staring at Mitch with a suspicious expression. He bit his lip and looked at his other arm, tensing when he saw that it was hidden behind his back. "What do you have...?" He asked slowly, not sure if he wanted to know. 

"I'm glad you asked," Mitch didn't sound glad as he revealed a familiar water bowl. Scott gritted his teeth, putting the two together. "Can you guess what I want you to do, Scotty?" Mitch purred. 

Scott decided not to say anything, just scowling at the bowl hatefully. Apparently, Mitch did not like that. With a quick snap of his wrist, the bowl connected to the side of Scott's face. The blond man cried out and clutched the side of his face with a pained expression. 

"Again," Mitch stressed the syllables. "Can you guess what I want you to do?" 

"Yeah," Scott whispered softly. Mitch giggled, and poured the water into the bowl, tossing the empty glass behind him when he finished. The glass shattered against the wall, causing Scott to flinch. Mitch ignored it and set the bowl onto the ground. 

"Drink up," Scott frowned and bent down, grabbing the bowl and raising it to his lips. Mitch tsked and gave him a disappointed look. "I thought you understood. Or are you just that fucking dumb?" Scott cringed and looked at him.