BBS One-Shots

Buried Alive

     Craig struggled against the ropes that restrained his limbs to his body. His hands were tied behind him and his legs were tied together as well, and then he had rope wrapped around his torso, restraining his arms more.

     Craig wanted to cry. He wanted Tyler, and Evan. He wanted the people who cared about him. He wanted his lovers, but the fact that he was being dragged along by a man much bigger than himself was evidence that they weren't here. He'd been stuck with this man for a week, according to his Kidnapper.

Craig was, if he was being honest, starting to lose some hope. As much as he really did believe in both Evan as well as Tyler, the fact that he hadn't so much as heard of any disturbances with the plan of the man that took him made him feel hopeless. If the two didn't do something now, or within the next few minutes, he'd probably be dead.

Craig grunted as he was dragged over a gravel trail, the dirt and pebbles both digging into him as well as getting into any open cuts that were on his exposed skin. Craig could see the little trail he'd left from his body being dragged, as well as some blood on the ground, but he wasn't exactly conscious enough to care.

     His head smacked against something hard and cold, causing him to yelp, and there was a small laugh.

     "Sorry, whore," the man dragging him snickered. "You'll have one of those, soon."

     Craig realized what it was when he was dragged past it. A headstone. One for a grave. He was in a cemetery, and the only thing he could think of as to why would be because he'd soon be in his own grave.

     "I'm sad to say your end is nearing, whore," the man sneered. "Oh, who am I kidding? I'm so going to enjoy making you suffer. You bleed, little slut, and it's going to be beautiful."

     Craig struggled, but he felt himself being dragged over a little hill, over roots for a few different trees, slammed head-first into a few more headstones, and then he was let-go of.

     Craig laid on the ground, blood dripping out of his mouth as he coughed. He took a moment to assess what bad shape he was in, and he realized that he probably wouldn't be getting out of this without at least a few more scars, and there was a high change he wasn't getting out of this at all.

     He had broken ribs, bruised ribs; his left wrist was twisted and the same arm was broken. The fingers on the same arm were broken as well. He had multiple bruises, cuts, many of which were still slightly bleeding, and bumps on his body. There was a cut through his eyebrow that was sure to scar, and it was still lightly bleeding as well. His right ankle was broken, and twisted. There were two gunshot wounds in his gut, which had somehow stopped bleeding after being sloppily bandaged. He was sure that, with a few more kicks and punches, he'd have a punctured lung as well. He had already gone through an anxiety attack while getting kidnapped and two panic attacks had hit him while he was being tortured earlier in the week.

     Craig was in bad shape, to say the least. He needed help, badly, but when he felt the man pick him up once more, he knew he probably wouldn't be getting any.

     Craig was thrown, and he fully expected his back to hit the ground like that, in an instant, but he fell for a second, then his back hit lose dirt.

     Craig opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them, and he saw where he was. It connected. Cemetery, lose dirt, long fall, shovel, pile of dirt, grave.

     Craig's eyes widened and he gasped, struggling even more. He was going to get buried alive.

     A pile of dirt landed on his chest, and he started to hyperventilate. No, no, no, this can't be happening.