The Housemates

Trauma, Torture, and Terror

Chapter Twenty-Two

Trauma, Torture, and Terror

Richard was a heroin addict. It was a fact he could no longer deny. For years, he had honestly believed that his addiction was not to the drug, but to the peace it brought him. The withdrawal symptoms he currently dealt with told him otherwise.

He leaned over and dry-heaved for the third time that morning. There was no longer any food in his stomach to lose. Most of it had ended up on one of the hunters, unfortunately not Victor but at least it had been a hunter. Some of it had ended up on the floor in front of him and on his shoes, which completely sucked. It was beginning to smell, only making the dry-heaving and gagging worse.

The hunters couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. He was clammy, almost constantly running a fever, moody, achy, and barely sleeping, not that the last two were extremely unusual considering his situation. He couldn’t keep anything down and they had stopped trying to feed him, which was probably for the best anyway. Victor was concerned they were going to lose him at this rate and Richard no longer cared. If he died, he died. He wasn’t giving them any information- wouldn’t even tell them what the problem was. They would simply find some way to use that against him anyway.

Victor was not okay with the idea of the seer’s death, not yet at least. He still wanted information, but it seemed as if he was running out of time.

He entered the room and looked at Richard. The boy was bruised and bloodied. His left arm was probably broken and his shoulder had been dislocated. He had a busted lip and a black eye. Neither of those were visible because his head hung low, refusing to look up and meet his tormentor’s eyes. Victor wouldn’t have that. He placed a finger under Richard’s chin, lifting his head to make eye contact. The boy flinched, breaking the skin contact and beginning to hyperventilate. Victor smirked.

“That’s the worst kind of pain for you, isn’t it? Seeing what I’m going to do to your little friends when I find them.” He had such an unfair advantage over the teen, knowing how to control just what he would foresee. He just had to focus on the Sullivans and Richard would see their fate.

“It’s also one helluva reason not to tell you where they are.”

Victor had to admit, his loyalty was impressive- highly annoying, but very impressive. Perhaps under different circumstances he would have made a good hunter.

“But can you handle what will happen if you don’t?” he wondered, casually brushing his hand against Richard’s cheek while focusing on the seer. The hyperventilating was replaced by silent tears. Fear replaced with reluctant acceptance, Victor mused.

“It’s the better scenario,” he whispered. Victor wondered what the boy had seen. Death by the hunters’ hands was not in his future, not yet, but there wasn’t much Victor wouldn’t do to catch the Sullivans. Those wolves could not be allowed to survive.

“You’ll cave eventually,” he observed. They always did. People could only take so much. There was only so much pain, physical and emotional, that anyone could handle before they would crack.

“I know, but I can only hope they’re gone when I do,” he muttered, more to himself than to Victor.

“Now that just won’t do,” Luna pouted, walking into the room. Richard jumped at her sudden appearance. She grinned and held up his cell phone. “We got past the passcode. He has a certain puppy’s number in his contact list. Should we give her a call and let her know what’s up?”

Victor chuckled as he saw Richard pale at the suggestion. Who knew the boy could even get whiter?

“I think that’s a brilliant idea. Of course, she’ll want to hear from our guest and I don’t think he wants to say hi.”