A/N: Here it is, I slaved all day just for you~!
Time: Witching Hour
Location: Is this Hell? Oh, wait, it's Namie's floor.
Status: reflecting on my feelings
It didn't work. For the first time in my life, my plans fell through. How could I be so stupid? I should have acted weaker. I should have taken the last of my pride and thrown it away. What could I have done differently? What could have stopped Shizuo from turning away in disgust and leaving me to die?
Wait. My main goal was to live, right? So didn't it work? I got Shizuo to leave without breaking my neck. So why do I feel disappointed…?
Suddenly, I'm claustrophobic. My arm is throbbing inside its cast. I completely forgot that I even had a cast on. Stupid bones. Stupid calcium deficiency. Stupid Shizuo for breaking my wrist in the first place. I can't believe I forgot about that incident, and it kind of shocks me as to how out of it I've really been. My wrist has been trapped in this thing for two weeks, since back when things weren't so bad.
I reach around for my jacket, wincing as the wounds in my other arm reopen. I can feel blood spreading warmly across the loose bandages- bandages that Shizuo wrapped around my wrist. But somehow, I feel like I was the one who did it. Ugh, I need to stop thinking. My headaches, and the pressure behind my eyes is almost unbearable. Almost.
I finally find my jacket, grasping it by the furry hood and pulling it close. My fingers grasp an extra switchblade I keep in my pocket, and as I pull it out I notice the pockets are a little too empty.
Where are the glass vials?
WHERE? I sit up in panic, my stomach churning sickeningly as I search the rest of my jacket. Empty, empty, EMPTY! My hands run over the ground, and I'm unable to feel or hear anything indicating the whereabouts of the vials. I need those. Shiki entrusted them to me, to fill them with Shizuo's blood and deliver them back safely, before he actually does send out real men to attack me. I can't help but shiver at how brutal their advances might be, given how bad the hallucinations alone were. I can't let that happen. Shiki is one of my biggest clients. I can't lose that!
But the vials are gone.
"Shizuo," the little boy whispers, and I look up to find him standing over me.
"He's the only one who had access to the glass vials besides us," he explains.
Of course- Shizuo must have the vials! I don't know why, or how, but maybe he knew my plan? Ha. Shizu-chan wouldn't know my plan. He probably took them because he collects shiny things.
Amidst the adrenaline rush, I completely forgot about the pain under my cast. It was the main reason I searched my coat in the first place: to get my switchblade. I grab it once more off the floor, where I had dropped it in my frenzy, and begin carefully sawing through the hard cast on my wrist. It's definitely healed by now, but the pressure of the cast is driving me insane!
… Poor word choice.
Just as I break through the meshy part under the cast with my blade, the door bursts open again. Shizuo appears. The boy vanishes. I jump. My hand slips. I'm sitting in the middle of the room, my mouth open in a soundless scream as I watch my own blood pour down my arm. I cut myself. I actually cut myself. I sway, suddenly feeling lightheaded. The room gets a bit brighter, maybe because morning's coming, and then I realize that I've done this before. I look at my other arm, cuts scattered beneath the loose bandages from the attack on myself, the one I had originally thought was with Shiki's men. So this isn't the first time I've done this, because Shinra said those were hallucinations. That calms me down a bit, I think.
The boy is back, and behind me now. He presses against my spine, reaching out to hold my fingers tight around the switchblade. I smile at the touch. I'm not alone. I look up at Shizuo and smile, while the boy coaxes my hand down again. The feel of the blade pulls against my skin, and I laugh.
I pull it again.
Shizuo hits the blade out of my hand, breathing hard. I look up, only to draw back when I see the sadistic glint in his eyes.
The boy is gone. He led me down this path to seduce Shizuo. Then he left me to fend for myself. I try to attack, or to flee- I'm not sure which one, but I need to try something- but it doesn't matter, because I've lost too much blood. I've lost my power.
Shizuo pushes me onto my back gently, slow, but it's these niceties that terrify me. He's hungry, it's like a fake utopia, and I can feel the storm arriving after the calm as soon as his teeth break my skin.
I don't yell. No one will help me. I bite my lip as he bites my neck, releasing more of my blood. I feel it warm and cold at the same time, running down my neck and into Namie's carpet. But Shizuo's hands are hotter and colder still, snagging my shirt as they travel down, and then grating my skin as they travel up under the fabric. He releases my neck, and I have to breath in fast, choking on my cries.
"Ha," he pants, "What's wrong? Don't tell me you didn't want this. You practically begged for this!"
He unbuckles my belt, and I try to kick him away. But he's sitting on my knees. My pants come off, but he leaves my boxers on. He slams my wrists above my head, and I try to catch my pained cries before they make their way out of my throat. It's too late, though. He heard me.
"Tell me how much it hurts," he growls. I turn my head away, grinding my teeth. "If you want me to stop, say stop. Or else," he pauses to rake his fingernails down my side, "I'll keep doing this. I'll do it till you can't breath, till you die from it."
Still, I don't say anything. This is a game. It's true that I begged for this, but that doesn't mean I want it. Not like this, anyway, and definitely not with him. This is cruel. This isn't right. There's something wrong. But I don't make a sound.
My thoughts are cut off when his teeth find my nipple, and OH MY GOD. I can't believe I'm getting aroused. He moves his lips to attack my other side as well, all the while holding my wrists above my head in one of his hands.
"Still holding back? Fuck, you're gonna make me work, aren't you?" breathes Shizuo. He straightens up, looming over me, and I can't look away. He's terrifying. Everything that was ever me, everything that I kept so sacred, is now burned to ashes by this feeling of fear. I'm not supposed to be afraid. And I'm not supposed to want to be afraid. But I do. And I keep my hands pinned to the floor, even though he's no longer holding them there. I watch, frozen, as he pulls his vest and his shirt over his head. He drops them, and when he looks back down at me, he grins.
I'm hard. What the fuck is wrong with me? But he's not grinning at that- he's grinning at the hands I kept in place for him. He's grinning at my obedience. My submission. I never knew Shizuo was such a sick fuck. And now I'm paying the price for yet another piece of information I never knew.
But instead of taking my wrists in his hands again, and undoes his bowtie* and ties me up. The fabric bites into my skin, and I'm extremely uncomfortable in this position (in more ways than one), but I don't squirm. Fuck, I'm not doing much of anything, am I? But my penis sure is.
"You're wet," comments Shizuo, noticing my state of arousal. He grabs me abruptly through the damp fabric of my boxers.
"AH!" It passes between my lips unrestrained. Shit. If I can't control the situation, the least I can do is control my reactions. Shizuo seems to sense my desperation for this small power, because he does everything he can to dissolve it. He leans down and pulls on the skin above my hipbone with his teeth, palming me hard through the fabric and moving his hand until my cock is weeping to the point of humiliation.
It hurts- it hurts so much to bring a sting to my eyes, but I won't let myself break down. And although it hurts, it somehow feels… mind-blowing. Like this is blowing my mind. Like Shizuo is blowing on my cock as he peels back the fabric of my boxers, and-
"Hn-!" Shizuo licks a bead of pre-cum off the tip, swirling his tongue around and making my already-pounding skull smash back against the floor in an effort to keep myself quiet. Shizuo smirks against the side of my penis, and then grazes his teeth along a vein.
I choke. The hand that had taken off my boxers is suddenly back, rubbing along my hole before pushing itself roughly inside.
"N-Not there!" My voice cracks. "Stop! No, Shizu-ch-cha-AH!" Two fingers. "Fuck, you protozoan! I said- HNN!" Three fingers, turning and prying apart my insides. I'm on fire. My hands beat against the ground above my head. "S-stop!"
"But look," Shizuo coos. I feel like throwing up. "You're still hard."
I am, but painfully so. My whole body is screaming, every muscle twitches as his fingers continue murdering me. I curl in on myself, and his fingers suddenly come together and curl as well. And then there's electricity. And I scream.
White flashes in the dim morning light. But just when I think I have it, when this torture will finally be over, I'm held in place. I let out a dry sob when I realize Shizuo's other hand is clenching firmly at the base of my cock. He's keeping me there.
I hate him.
He flips me over. He positions himself at my entrance. He pushes in.
I hate him so much. I might explode.
He grunts, pulling out and tearing up my insides.
And I do explode, but not in the way I want to. I scream against the floor. My penis throbs, sending me over another dry orgasm, and I scream again.
He's thrusting in and out, holding my cock. I've always hated him, but never like this. I hate him to the point where killing him wouldn't be enough.
"That's what I wanted to hear," his voice rumbles against my back as I scream again. I frantically try moving my hips against his hand, so that I might find some pleasure in this. I'm like an animal.
I can't even comprehend how much I hate him.
I need his blood. Where did those vials go? Not that I could do much. I try moving my hips again, but his other hand comes around and holds me in place.
I scream his name, not because I want to, but because I have to. I scream it, because everything in my world has become Shizuo. I scream it because now, nothing will ever matter again. This pain, this pleasure, this cruelty and this unfairness and this hate and this everything is all because of him. I don't even add the –chan, because he doesn't deserve to be called something he's not.
Because Shizuo is a monster. And when I scream his name one last time as I'm collapsed on the floor, used and abused and confused and anything else that rhymes, alone after he's gone, and after he's taken the last bit of my sanity, I scream it because I can't think of any other word to describe the darkness swallowing me whole.
Time: 8:48 am
Location: Hell/Namie's floor
Status: used and abused and confused (and anything else that rhymes) … and hungry.
I'm hungry. I decide to get up, and immediately sit down again. My head spins, and the insides of my arms are aching.
Oh yeah. The cuts.
"Have fun last night?" comes a voice. I glare over at the boy, who's leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face.
"Fuck off," I mumble. I stand up again- slowly this time- and make my way to the bathroom.
"AARGH!" I shout in horror. But what I initially thought was a half-dead crossbreed of a human and a raccoon standing in the bathroom is actually just my reflection. I have black bruises around my eyes, probably from when Shizuo punched me in the nose. But I can't think about Shizuo right now, because my insides are twisting nauseatingly with fear, hate, and shame just from his name. I focus all my attention on cleaning myself up, washing my face tenderly before moving to my arms. The gashes are deep and swollen with puss. Yuck. How much blood did I lose?
I move to Namie's closet and look through her clothes. I find some sweatpants, tying the string tight to fit over my bony waist. I know I'm too skinny. They could probably hang me up in an anatomy class and use me as a skeleton.
I find my jacket in the main room soaking in a small puddle of blood. And drop it in disgust when I notice the dried cum on the sleeves.
It's better not to wear my signature jacket anyway.
But I need something to wear. I'm HUNGRY.
I find a coat closet and find a women's long raincoat. It has a big hood, and I pull it on to cover my face. I go back into the bathroom and look myself over in the mirror.
I look homeless.
So long as no one recognizes me, and by that I mean no one, I'm satisfied. I leave, making sure to pull my hood down as far as possible, and depend on my knowledge of the sunlit sidewalk to guide me.
I make it half way to the Sushi shop before they find me.
"You think that stupid disguise is going to stop us? You might want to reconsider flashing around your switchblade before you try avoiding someone," comes a voice.
I stop, peering under my hood at my imaginary gang of attackers. I laugh. They can't hurt me. Not really, anyway.
I let them come. I drop my switchblade and hold out my arms as they run at me.
The first blow hits my ribs. HA! That actually hurt! My mind amazes me sometimes! I have such a superior brain that I can actually feel imaginary pain!
Another kick, and I go down laughing. More, more, more! The kicks come, and pipes scrape against the sidewalk, and I laugh.
Laughter can't even release the hysterical ball of energy inside me! Tears start streaming down my face, helping to ease the pressure. But it's still not enough. I laugh even louder, the volume ripping up my throat. The hallucinations aren't kicking as hard now. They're wondering what the fuck is wrong with me.
The funny thing is, they're the things that are wrong with me! And they don't even know it!
Or do they know it? They would, I guess, since I know it. And they're a part of me, after all.
I'm still laughing when I suddenly hear the screech of tires against the pavement. I smell burning rubber. Looking up, I see my hallucinations dive out of the way as a van comes bursting in on the scene. They shout and they run. And I laugh, because they have nothing to be afraid of. They can't be killed by a van!
Someone calls my name.
"Dotachin~!" I greet, smiling as I stand up. The ground sways violently, and I fall over before anyone has a chance to catch me.
When I look up, Dotachin is holding a cell phone to his ear. "Hello, Shinra? Yeah, we did. But he's in bad shape…. No, I don't really feel comfortable moving him…"
The one-sided conversation confuses me, and I'm just about to ask what the hell is going on when two faces pop up in my field of vision.
"Oi! Izaya-kun, what were you doing?" Erika's voice plucks at my nerve endings.
"Oh, just playing around," I lie. I can't let her know I was hallucinating. She's unworthy of such information, just like the rest of the human race.
"You call that playing around? Letting those guys beat you up like that?" Walker asks.
"Haa? What are you talking about?" I pause as his words sink in. "Wait, did you say 'those guys'?"
Erika frowns. "Duhh. What, wasn't that grammatically correct?" She looks to Walker for affirmation. My head is spinning again.
"Were there other people around?" I ask, rubbing my eyes tiredly. I can't seem to put it all together. The puzzle is there, but the pieces are missing.
"Dotachin!" Erika calls out. "I think Izaya-kun has a concussion! He doesn't remember getting beat up."
"I do, but I don't understand what you're saying," I mumble. My stomach drops.
"Watch out, I think he's losing consciousness," Walker says calmly. By the time I realize that he's talking about me, I can't help but think he should have sounded a bit more urgent, before my face hits the pavement.
Time: If only I had a watch.
Location: If only I cared.
Status. If only I knew.
Voices are getting louder somewhere above me. I try to call out, but my mouth doesn't work.
"… bad we didn't find him sooner. I'm surprised he's not dead." It's Shinra's voice.
"Do you think he got into some kind of trouble with the Yakuza? I recognized some of the thugs when we drove in," says Dotachin.
"Nn," is all I can manage, and splitting my eyelids apart feels like the hardest thing I have ever done.
"Izaya! Hey, can you hear me?" asks Shinra. I blink blearily until I can make out his oversized spectacles.
"Hello, Shinra," I say lazily. Shinra lets out a sigh of relief and holds up three fingers.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Twenty-five," I drawl. Shinra frowns.
"This is serious, Izaya," he scolds. "I need to know if you've had a concussion. Now, how many fingers am I holding up?"
As I answer mindless questions, I go back to what Walker said before.
Those guys beat you up. Meaning Shiki's men were actually there. I wasn't hallucinating.
But the little boy… could have just been a figment of my overactive imagination, right? I've heard of children having imaginary friends before. Maybe it was just something like that?
My heart nearly breaks from the relief that suddenly washes over me.
I'm not crazy.
I mean, I have always assumed I was a little bit insane, but who isn't? Shinra was the one who convinced me that I was schizophrenic in the first place. He acted-
He acted like he was worried about me. Why would Shinra be worried about me? I'm awful to him. I never deserved his sympathy.
Unless… unless Shinra wanted me to go crazy. If I were to lose my mind, my most prized possession, he could destroy me from the inside.
I narrow my eyes, observing Shinra as he takes my pulse. It's always the quiet ones, isn't it? He probably knew Shiki's men were actually attacking me, and planted the seed of self-doubt in my mind when he suggested that I was hurting myself.
"Izaya," Shinra says, and I realize he's holding out two small pills.
"What?" I reply. I know he wants me to take them. But I'm not going to, not after realizing what his true intentions are. Shinra seems to notice my change in attitude, and he lowers his hand warily.
"Izaya, are you…?" The doctor trails off, clearly unsure of what to ask first. I don't want to hear his bullshit, though, and skip right to the chase.
"I underestimated you, Shinra," I say. Right now, I'm not worried about keeping up false friendships. I need to find a way to escape; to survive. "I knew you were clever, but this!" I laugh, still trying to grasp the truth of it all.
Shinra and Dotachin exchange a look. "What are you talking about, Izaya?" Dotachin asks.
"I'm talking about Shinra-kun~" I put on a sickly sweet smile, pleased when the other two visibly shiver. Walker and Erika are standing by the van, keeping watch for any more gang members. "He had everything planned out, you know? I bet he hates you for saving me, Dotachin- unless you're in on this too," I add, shooting the man in question a look of warning.
"We should get you back to my place," Shinra says, changing the subject. Suspicious.
"Haa? Eager to play with my mental health even more? Sorry, but it's going to take a lot more than your cheap methods to convince me that I've gone insane!" I feel foolish, betrayed even, but not enough to admit defeat.
"Izaya- you're not mentally stable," Shinra says.
"Oh! I almost forgot to mention the best part!" My voice cracks hysterically, causing Erika and Walker to look over. Let them stare. "Shizu-chan visited me last night," I continue, and Erika jumps to attention in the corner of my eye. "And look at your face, Shinra! You act surprised, but you're all in on this together! Haha!Was it fun? Did you enjoy planning out my demise?"
"But Izaya, that's not possible," Erika calls out.
I ignore her, keeping my eyes steady with Shinra's. "Did it excite you to think of ways to get inside my skull? Convincing me, beating me, raping me-"
Shinra stops me. "Raping? Izaya, who…? No, better yet, Shizuo has been out of town for two weeks, didn't you know?"
"Nice try, Shinra. He was over at Namie's place last night, pounding into me like a fucking dog."
"Izaya, we're going to get you some help. I can examine you myself if you want, but-"
"STOP WITH THE LIES!" I snap, throwing myself on top of Shinra, using my nails to scratch at his face. I don't know where I dropped my switchblade. Dotachin grabs me from behind, and I bite his hand, tasting blood before being dropped harshly to the ground. My legs begin to move before my feet hit the pavement, and I run clumsily, trying to keep my balance as the buildings rock back and forth.
I run, and I run, and don't look back, and run, and I suddenly find myself catching my breath in front of Shizuo's door.
I have to see if he's here. I have to be thorough in my search, to determine if everything is just a plot to destroy me. Though I'm already most certain it is.
The door is locked.
"When has that stopped you before?" the boy asks, and I'm thankful he decided to join me. I smirk, mirroring his expression, before kneeling down to pick the lock.
The first thing I notice upon opening the door is the smell. It smells like spoiled milk, hitting me like a brick wall. The darkness is the second thing I notice. Then the pile of unpaid bills on the floor, just beyond his threshold.
"I gotta give it to them, they really went all out when they planned this," says the boy.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"Well they obviously made it seem like he hasn't been home in a while. Even putting expired milk in the fridge."
But I'm not so sure. Suddenly, I have doubts in my mind.
There is only one thing left to do: I have to call Shiki-san.
There's a payphone just outside Shizuo's apartment. I leave quickly, hoping the smell doesn't stick to my clothes (even though they're not even mine), and dial Shiki's personal cell as soon as the booth is closed behind me.
As soon as I hear his voice, my patience and calm facade is shattered.
"You should know better than to kill off your best source of information," I spit into the receiver.
"Orihara-san. So nice to hear from you."
I can tell from his voice he means the exact opposite.
"Shiki-san. I advice you to watch your back from now on. If you knew the things I've been through thanks to your mindless minions-"
"You are in no position to threaten me, Orihara," the voice makes me wonder if someone can be killed by a sound. "I sent my men to give you what you deserved."
"You didn't even give me a chance to do your bidding!"
"You didn't give me a chance to tell you what my bidding was," comes the gruff reply. "And I gave you two chances, Orihara-kun."
"What are you talking about?"
"You know very well what I'm talking about. I don't enjoy being stood up, especially as someone as knowledgeable of our history as you. It makes you seem… untrustworthy. Now hang up the phone and vanish, or I'll send out another group of men to do the job for you. And I assure you, this time, they won't fail."
"Wait, what do you mean I didn't show up?" I yell, but the voice has been replaced by a faint beeping. I hang up, staring at the dial as if it holds the answers.
I don't enjoy being stood up.
I gave you two chances.
I… never went to the meeting? No. I went. I definitely did. I even have to vials to prove it!
Oh. Shizuo has the vials.
Which means, Shiki-san and his men are in on this as well.
I punch the dial, the pressure inside me building up to a scream. Can I trust no one? Has everyone betrayed me?
I call Namie, and she sounds predictably pissed off at the sound of my voice.
"Come home. By tonight," I say.
I hang up, not letting her argue. I know she'll come. Even if everyone else has deceived me, Namie will stay by my side. Because if there's one thing Namie's good for, it's her love of paychecks.
I open the phone booth, feeling more alone than I ever thought possible. The boy is standing there, holding his hand out to me, and I feel tears prick at my eyes.
"No," I say, taking his hand. "You haven't betrayed me, have you?"
"Not unless you want me to," he says.
I smile, leading him away and toward Namie's apartment. We hold hands the whole way, and for a moment, I wish he was the real one, and I was his hallucination. Things would be so much easier if I didn't exist.
Time: 6:15 pm
Location: Namie's floor again
Namie is standing in her doorway, yelling at me for the mess I've made, and telling me off for wearing her clothes. My heart swells for my assistant. She's acting completely like she normally does. I'm glad she doesn't have a social life. This way, she doesn't get caught up in evil schemes and deceitful plots against her employer.
I decide to tell her everything, but I leave out the getting–raped-on-her-carpet part. I need somewhere to stay, and I think I can use her to my advantage if she knows who to trust and who not to trust. I tell her that Dotachin is probably safe, since he saved my life despite Shinra's plans, and I watch her carefully as I finish recapping what she missed on her vacation time. She seems like she believes me. She's a little unsure, of course, but who wouldn't be after that imbroglio of a story?
Finally, she says, "I'm going to make some tea," and leaves the boy and me on the couch. He's still holding my hand, and I'm okay with that. It's not like Namie can see me showing my weak side to my imaginary accomplice.
As I wait for Namie to return, I begin to feel uneasy. She seems to be taking a long time making tea. After ten minutes, she returns with a tray, and sets it down with no emotion. Tch, typical. I don't drink the tea though, for fear of her having poisoned it (plus, I must admit, I haven't had a cup of tea since the incident with the alcohol).
Namie's eyes flicker toward the clock, and my uneasiness is heightened.
"Waiting for something?" I ask. Namie jumps, looking at me nervously.
"No! I mean, well, it's just a bit… you know…"
I cock my head to the side and smile. "A bit what, Namie-san? You can tell my the truth~"
She shifts in her seat uncomfortably. "A bit awkward, having you in my house."
"Haha! Oh!" I laugh, causing Namie to twitch. And here I am, ready to throw out the last person that I can use to my advantage, over something as silly as awkwardness.
The boy squeezes my hand suddenly. "She's betrayed us," he whispers.
I'm about to ask what he means when there's a knock on the door.
"Oh, who could that possibly be?" Namie gets up a little too quickly, and her relief is evident. I narrow my eyes, watching her move.
"Namie," I say, and she freezes with her hand outstretched out for the doorknob. "If you open that door, there will be consequences."
The knocks repeat, and Namie hesitates. I intensify my glare.
"This is for your own good, Izaya," she says, before opening the door.
I jump up, but it's to late. My escape routes are limited to either fighting through the door to freedom, or jumping to my death through the window.
Instead of escaping, I charge at Namie. She was the last person I had faith in, and I should have known better than to trust in anyone. I am the only person in my world. I have never relied on others, so did I think now would be a good time?
The men at the door reach me before I can get close enough to kill her. They wrestle me down, and I feel something sharp poke the side of my ass.
My muscles relax, and I fight to stay conscious. The boy is somewhere off in the distance, running away from me, but I want to tell him not to go. I don't want him to leave me again.
And the last thing I think of, before everything goes black for the umpteenth time in these past few weeks, is about how hungry I still am.
Time: there aren't any clocks in here
Location: It's white like Heaven, but the atmosphere reeks of Hell.
I wake up in a bright room with no windows. I'm strapped to a bed, and I immediately think of the different horror movies this could possibly be.
The only door clicks open, and a man in a lab coat walks through. The sound out in the hall is overwhelming. People are screaming, laughing, and singing manically. A woman is dragged past my door, her hair sticking to the top of her head like a bird's nest, while nurses follow behind with what looks like a straight jacket.
I suddenly don't need to hear what the doctor in my room is about to say to know exactly where I am.
I'm in a psyche ward.
A/N: I just want to thank so many of you for motivating me to finish this chapter! My life as an author would be nothing without you.
I hope this wasn't complete shit! But here comes the fun chapters~!
*Oh, and I had such a hard time not making a gangsta comment when I mentioned Bow Tie…
For those of you who are confused, copy and paste this into your URL (replace the space with a period) for an explanation: tumblr com/ZyCjFxCvO_VO