Back to you (part 2 of mr.gold)

I hate everything about you, why do I love you?

Casey

I can barely remember what I look like anymore. All I see day in and day out are my legs with skin dissolving ropes around my unwashed ankles and my bruised thighs from so much resistance against the actions that take place between them.

I know where I am. A basement, beneath a house, tied to a metal framed bed, laying in my own vomit and blood.

I know why I'm here. I was oblivious to my brothers ways, I couldn't see, I still can't see, why he would do this to me. Why he does this to me. Somewhere along the line, he must have snapped in the head. By now, I know the feeling.

I know lots of things. I know that all of this, the pain and suffering, the death and horrific events, were caused by my selfishness and my ignorance. How a brat such as myself could have saved so many lives, if she'd just stayed in her place.

But, the one thing I can't bring myself to regret, is my emotions for him. The man who's forgiveness I'd give my life for, the man I'm sure is dead and gone.

Axel...

////

The door to the basement, only gifted with the slightest of noise at the hinges, is like a blaring alarm clock to me.  I hear the click, I wake up with a start and a sharp inhale of wind whipping past my lips.

"Casey, Good morning."

My skin crawls and my nails dig into my palms,  putting pressure on the earlier scabs. 

I don't speak, I never speak. I have nothing to say that I haven't already spent weeks screaming every second I saw him.

Cameron. Once my beloved brother, I now wished you'd die.

He pulls the chain on the lightbulb and the room is dimly illuminated by the ohhh of the stale bulb.

In his hands, the same thing that was there yesterday, and the day before, and the week before.

Home made cinnamon rolls. That's what he says they are.

"Even after months out of the sun, your skin is still so radiant." He whispers to himself, walking toward me. Plate in one hand, plastic fork in the other.

He no longer looks like my brother. Not just in my eyes, physically as well.

He dyed his hair blonde, he's growing a beard. Perhaps to not be recognized in the public.

He takes the chair near the bed and slides it next to the bed and sits near my head.

"I don't want to fight you today." Cameron's hand comes down and strokes my greasy hair. I turn away, but this is my only defense.

He smiles and trails his hand down my neck, down my shoulder. I shiver and squeeze my eyes shut, I think about all the happiness I once had before New York; and the little happiness I had in it.

"Open your mouth for me." He says lightly.

I clench my bottom lip between my teeth like a python and look over at him. His eyes are surrounded with dark circles and he's covered in scars, mostly from me.

He smiles weakly. " You haven't eaten in two days, please?"

That is true. I starve myself for as long as I can in hopes that I'll just drop dead. My stomach hurts but I have a greater pain in my heart and in my head that help me endure it.

We're having a stare down as he waits not so patiently for my lips to part and he can shovel in the stale pastry.

"Casey."

I won't.

"Open."

I refuse.

"Now."

I want to die.

His hands come towards my mouth and he tries to squeeze my cheeks, trying to force them to part. I shake my head vigorously and thrash.

I hear the plate crash to the ground as he gets up and straddles me.

A slap.

His hand comes down on my face like being hit with a brick.

I wince but I can handle this much. At least, for a while.

One after the other, then open hands turn into closed fist to my stomach. The wind is knocked out of me I can't fight anymore.

"You always make me do this, you always make me hurt you!" He screams three inches from my face.

Grabbing what's let of the rolls off the ground, he grabs my cheeks and forces it into my mouth, then covering it.

"Chew it, swallow it. So help me Casey I will show you what real pain is."

He gets off me and leaves the mess of broken glass on the ground along with the roll and the flipped chair. He storms out, slamming the door and up the stairs.

I swallow it. What's the point in fighting? I'll be beaten to death before I starve at this rate.

I close my eyes and go to a happier place. A place where that roll was one of Axels cupcakes with my name, or one of his cookies with a Hershey kiss pressed into the center.

Axel, everyone, I am sorry.

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A/N: excuse the bad writing I'm trying to get back into the swing of things :)