Sick

Symptoms

How long had he been here?

Hours, days, weeks? Allen wasn't sure, his head was too heavy, tongue too numb and dry in his mouth. He loosely tugged his wrists but they were stinging with pain as raw wounds scraped against their rusted chains, anchored firmly to a metal pipe. He was naked and caked in mud and dirt and blood, his cheeks burned with heat as he tried so hard to lift his head at the clean and sweet man kneeling before him, unsure when he entered the room. His voice rasped and the man smiled, holding a baby bottle of water to his lips, Allen greedily suckled the liquid as fast as his ruined body would allow, the kind man petted his hair gently. Allen felt himself weep hot, dry tears and the man shushed him softly, untying the chains and pulling the American close to his body, cradling him like he was a child. And of course he was, wasn't he? Just a child, a baby that had done something wrong and been punished but now he was being taken care of.

"My dear sweet, you're all dirty. You've been so good down here, mummy will clean you up." The man smiled, lifting Allen's withered body and carrying him from the basement to the upstairs bathroom of his small townhouse. Allen winced at the lukewarm bath water soaking his skin, as if it was his first experience with it, he clung to the redheaded man and whimpered, the man smiled, easing him into the water and pushing a small rubber duck into the tub. Allen's eyes locked onto it and he loosened his grip, opting to push the little duck around. "See, love? Isn't this nice?" The man chuckled, grabbing a plastic cup to wet Allen's mud caked hair.

"Mommy. I have a duck." Allen rasped out, lifting his yellow treasure to the man, "Mommy, look."

The man smiled at being called mummy and gave a small applause.

"Excellent, my pet. Now sit still so mummy can clean you." He praised, fingers working Allen's skull pleasantly. Only when the American was at least decently clean, did the man pull him out of the tub and dry him off, neglecting clothes for the time being. Allen didn't mind, he was too focused on his dull aching headache. What should have been gut wrenching memories flashed passed him and he realized where he was. He was at Oliver's house, a place he'd visited once before during a particularly horrid craving. The doctor had found him hunched over three corpses of young highschool girls and dragged him home to medicate and clean him. Allen was taken aback when the smaller man admitted he had been stalking Allen, but the American brushed it off as a doctor being extremely concerned about his patient.

Now was entirely different.

Now Oliver had drugged and kidnapped him. Now he had been chained in a basement stark naked. Now he had been beaten and starved, forced to refer to Oliver as his mother and only rewarded when he behaved like a child. Now Allen realized Oliver had been preparing this for years. After years upon years of therapy together, Oliver had been suggesting and manipulating Allen into trusting him and telling him everything. Oliver, the sick fuck, had gotten off on every gruesome detail and when he finally asked to see the horrendous act in person that had been the final straw. He had to have Allen, he had to make him obedient and dependent on him and it was so easy. An unhealthy combination of pills and manipulation had forced Allen to believe he was a twelve year old boy and that Olive was his doting mother, there only to protect and love him.

But Allen's mind was putty now, too far gone to care. He relished in the attention and care, desperately needing to be by his beloved Oliver's side and to be coddled. Oliver set Allen down onto his bed, brushing his cheek gently and with such a fond smile.

"I'm so proud, my love. You've been such a good boy, doing as I ask and not running off anymore." His words would have sounded so comforting if not for their dark meaning. "That's why I brought you a present." Oliver only left the room for a minute or two but Allen was impatient and scampered to find him, he was in the kitchen brandishing a new stainless steel knife. "Oh you cheeky thing. You've ruined the surprise." Allen hung his head and shuffled his feet, not entirely apologetic. Oliver chuckled and used the razor sharp blade to easily slice down the stitching of his shirt buttons and make his shirt slip off thin shoulders. Allen swallowed, feet inching just that little closer, surely a light touch wouldn't hurt.