Fleurs Captives (Joshler)

25. Marigold

Marigold:
meaning- pain and grief

***Trigger warnings for abuse, self harm, suicidal thoughts, blood, vomit, and PTSD.***

Wait to start the song.

When Josh came to, his face was still pressed against Tyler's shoulder. His boyfriend's bound chest rose and fell weakly as his binder restricted his ability to breathe while he was lying down and unconscious. Josh was too groggy to even consider why he'd woken up in the first place as he sat up weakly, pain shooting throughout his body as he did so.

Instinct caused Josh to search for his father when he was scared and in pain, so he timidly asked, "Papa?"

Papa looked over his shoulder from the driver's seat, meeting Josh's hazy gaze. He smiled warmly. "You're awake. I was hoping you'd wake up first. Why don't you come up here by me?"

Josh blinked in confusion, looking around at the rest of the children sleeping beside him, the sheet having shifted to reveal several faces. He blinked again as he looked back at Tyler, softly touching Tyler's bearded cheek before the memory of the events leading up to this ride in the van hit him. Tyler was a captive now too, and he wasn't safe. None of them were safe.

When Josh started to cry again, Papa sighed. Josh pulled the sheet back up over his head, pressing his forehead against Tyler's in the hope that Tyler would wake up and protect him. No such luck. Tyler wasn't even snoring. He was just unconscious.

Hidden beneath the sheet, Josh pressed a kiss to Tyler's lips before slipping his hand into Tyler's. He cried harder when Tyler didn't squeeze his hand back, just continuing to breathe shallow breaths beside him.

"Do you need more medicine, Josh?" Papa asked in what should've been a soothing voice, but some of his annoyance slipped through.

Josh poked his head back out from under the sheet, still struggling to calm himself. Then he saw it. They were driving through a town. There were people here. Maybe someone would recognize him. Adrenaline was what provided Josh with a plan.

"Tyler's not breathing, Papa," Josh reported, the fact that he still couldn't calm himself down really selling the partial lie.

"What?" Papa asked, stiffening in his seat. "What do you mean she isn't breathing? Why isn't she breathing?"

"His chest is wrapped too tight," Josh tried to explain.

Papa reached over to the glove compartment, fishing out a pocket knife before tossing it to Josh, who was in no way mentally present enough to catch it. It hit Jenna's arm, but she was too sedated to even stir.

The last thing Josh would ever do was take away Tyler's binder, his armour when it came to dealing with Papa, at a time like this. No. That wasn't the plan. Josh picked up the pocket knife, fumbling to unfurl it clumsily. Josh didn't allow himself to hesitate as he moved toward Tyler, giving off the impression that he was going to use the weapon for exactly what Papa expected him to.

He glanced up at his father, who was watching the road again. Even after everything Papa had done to him today, he trusted Josh. Maybe he could've trusted Josh still if Tyler wasn't in danger, but Josh wasn't willing to let Tyler suffer in the same way he had.

The noise of fear and pain Josh made when he cut his palm open was genuine, and his head hit the wall of the van when it made Papa swerve.

"What happened?" Papa asked, looking fearfully over his shoulder at the blood gushing from his son's hand.