heartbeat ~ a f t g

Neil

Trigger warning: domestic violence and injury detail.

Neil hadn't dreamt in almost a year.

He guessed that it was because of the NeuroPatch, that it's energy waves were somehow affecting his brain while he slept, and now that theory was proved true. Because as he felt his eyes closing, his aching body swathed in the sheets of Columbia House's spare bed, Neil could feel its absence keenly, like a whole in his head as his mind drifted off.

He was standing in a room with high ceilings and a wide staircase leading up to the second floor. His mother stood at the open door, greeting their guests with a smile that Neil remembered watching her practice in the mirror each night. It was a smile that spoke of thinly veiled pain and misery, but combined with her powers, no one seemed to notice. Neil's mother could disguise things: the terror that was a permanent fixture in her eyes, the blood stains inked on the floor, and the sounds of her screams when Neil's father hit her. There was no point hiding those noises from him however, he'd learnt long ago to overlook the rush of thick, blurred static that always filled his ears and eyes when she was diverting his attention. 

 But there was desperation in her expression now as she ushered whoever their visitors were into the dining room where his father was waiting. As soon as the door had shut behind them, Neil found himself transported into a room that was all too familiar. His mother stood, frozen, at the ironing board, watching silently as Neil's father advanced toward him with a dangerous precision, the still-steaming iron held high. He moved at a snails pace as he lowered the weapon toward Neil's shoulder, but Neil was unable to move or dodge out of his reach: his feet were melting into the floor. The iron was centimetres away but his skin was already in agony. It felt like it was falling off his bones with every traitorous second that ticked by. Then the rushing sound began. He started as he realised that every scar, every brand he'd gathered over the years was bleeding. Hot, sticky rivers of red poured down his skin as his vision faded into darkness, until he found himself standing on a beach and staring out at the half moon as ash rained down around him, falling like snow. The moon rotated until it grinned at him in a Cheshire cat smile, and when it finally faded into oblivion, he couldn't help but be reminded of Andrew's small, impossible smirk. 

  *****

It had only been half a dream. The rest had been reality, a memory that stretched back to when Neil had been 9 and too young to know how dangerous his father- The Butcher, everyone called him- really was. Even now, as he sat panting and soaked through with sweat in bed, he could feel the steady flow of melting skin and blood down his back and shoulders. He could smell the singed aroma of flesh and burnt hair and his mother's body as he scattered the remains in the sea. She'd died almost a year ago after receiving a bullet in her stomach, and bled out on a beach near the motel they'd been staying in. Neil had collected driftwood to bury her under, then used his half-finished cigarette to set the whole thing on fire. it was impossible to describe how relieved and terrified he'd felt, watching her ashes float away into the evening wind. 

But her demise had posed bigger problems to him if he wanted to stay alive. Yes, he was free of what could only be called her dictatorship, but she'd used her powers to hide both of them whenever any of the Butcher's men were nearby. This was especially important in Neil's case, as they'd discovered that, like all other electrical devices, he could be tracked. So, as a last, desperate attempt to preserve his life, he'd purchased a second-hand NeuroPatch off one of the black markets his mother had left him contacts for. It'd been dangerously close to combusting, but he'd used his own ability to modify the security, and, after making sure it would do the job his mother had for the last 8 years, fixed it in place. The only downside would be that it restricted his use of his powers, making sure that he only used them when absolutely necessary.  But apparently his modifications hadn't stopped Aaron literally cutting it out of his head, which Neil still had no idea how he'd done. Andrew had explained about the groups powers, and Neil had already known about Kevin's, but the other two came as a surprise. He couldn't help thinking how useful Nicky would've been as one of the Butcher's hunters, and he supposed Aaron's could extend to fixing torn skin, muscles and bones, but still. It didn't justify how creepy cutting into someones brain was.  

Neil swung his legs out of the crumpled, sweat-soaked sheets. He made his way towards the vague outline of the door, guessing from the amount of light filtering through the blinds that it was still quite late in the night. He might've shown up at the house at 1:30am, but had slept through nearly a whole day as he'd healed. 

He tried to remember the way to the kitchen as he shuffled silently down the hallway: his throat was dry, and he was pretty sure that remembering things made him ill.