|Dream Away the Pain
Author: littleblackneko PM
The most unexpected thing happens: Charlie gets kidnapped. But he finds that when he is asleep, his dreams are replaced by a live stream from Alex and the Doctor from aboard the TARDIS. It's up to them to save Charlie from his captors, well them and Charlie's ability to dream. Doctor Who/Charlieissocoollike/nerimon crossoverRated: Fiction T - English - Suspense/Sci-Fi - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,086 - Reviews: 9 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 12 - Updated: 07-28-12 - Published: 06-07-12 - id: 8192073
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Yes, I am continuing this :)
My vision was completely useless when I finally came to, everything around me was not only blurry as hell, but I was in an almost pitch black room which was not helping matters. I wanted to believe what I had just experienced; I really did, though my common sense was screaming that it was just a ridiculous dream. I was just desperate for an escape. But then that same part also didn't want to believe this was real. It wanted to protect me from my own harsh reality.
I wanted to pretend that I was lying down in my own bed and that soon I would escape this nightmare. How pathetic. Wishing and dreaming would get me nowhere now. I wanted to go home and at least have a day or two to get myself prepared. But here's the thing: You don't get to plan out when you're life is going to drastically change; you just have to roll with the punches.
What if I hadn't opened the front door? That question occurred to me with stinging clarity. What if I had looked out the window saw it was a stranger and didn't answer it? What if I had known that this was where I would end up if I did? But that's the thing. We aren't allowed to know our future, or exactly what our decisions would. I made a mistake. But if someone was this out for vengeance on me, I reassured myself; surely they would have found a way to get me anyway. Strike that, not very reassuring.
I don't think anyone can actually ever feel prepared to get kidnapped. That's what this is, isn't it. It was a kidnapping. Actually admitting it in my head was already terrifying. I didn't dare to say the word out loud.
Pain started creeping through my joints, an insatiable, uncontrollable pain that overtook every inch of my body. I could feel the bumps and bruises decorating my back, stomach, and chest in a black and blue rainbow. They had some fun while I was unconscious it seemed, and this was apt to somehow get much worse. These kinds of things usually worked like that. And I didn't even know why they had so much hostility towards me.
There was also a dull grinding at both of my wrists. I craned my neck to see that they were cuffed above my head. All my senses came alive then. I felt like I was engulfed in flames with how much it hurt, the stinging making me twist and writhe in place, which didn't help the burn from the handcuffs. My eyes opened fully now, and saw the room I was in clearly. It was a basement, that much was obvious, but it looked and felt more like a dungeon. Stone surrounded me, and there was a bitter cold in the air. Dark blue goose bumps coated my arms. The room smelled miserable, like something had died in it. Not the best time for that comparison.
There was a man standing in the room, smiling smugly. It was the evil mastermind who caused all this. I wanted to slug him, but something told me that I wasn't going to be successful in that aspect. "How are you feeling, McDonnell? Care for an evening jog?" He asked cockily. I hated being this helpless. I refused to respond to that deviant.
"The cold shoulder, huh? Now that won't get you very far." He cooed, grasping my chin in his hands and forcing me to look him in the eye. The man was scraggly and seemingly unappealing; his mouth was snarled into a devious smirk. Everything about the man screamed villain. Except his eyes, I noted, the eyes were trying to betray him. They were quite beautiful, any person would think so. They were an unbelievable shade of deep purple that seemed to bright and vivacious to be human, then again they might not be. But I wasn't going to admit I was going crazy enough to think he was an alien just yet.
I tried to escape his gaze, but the tight grip on my jaw wouldn't let me. "Let's get one thing straight here, you little punk. The next few weeks are not going to be too pleasant for you." Then, just for the fun of it, it seemed he slapped me across the face. To my credit, I refused to wince at the ache that began to rip across the affected area. He got up right in front of my face, so close I could feel his cool breathe against my mouth. He towered over me, his violet eyes narrowed. "I am going to do so many things to you, McDonnell. So many unbelievably painful things that within days you are going to be begging me to kill you. But that won't come for a while. You'll die here; don't think I'll let you go. I'm just going to be waiting until you're screaming and begging for death, and then I'll wait a little more, until I've had enough fun. Then you'll be executed in the most gruesome way I can think of." He bore a twisted, demonic smile, and let go of my head by thrusting it back so far, it slammed against the wall. "Enjoy your stay, Charlie." He began to walk out of the room when I finally spoke.
I was going to die here. I didn't want to let that settle in. "Why are you doing this to me? What I did I do to you to make you hate me so much?"
"He turned back to look at me, grimacing. "What did you do? You're a punk kid in your early twenties who has made a life out of talking to a camera. Everything you want, you have handed to you on a silver platter, for absolutely nothing. People adore you because you have no sense of maturity. I work so hard in my life; I've seen so much and yet I have nothing. Excuse me for wanting a little bit of revenge on someone who has no sense of reality. Excuse me for wanting your pathetic excuse for a life dead."
Death loomed over me. Death, torture, pain, and sadness. But then I thought of Alex and the Doctor who might possibly be inside my head. Maybe I should start believing in aliens.