Yes, it's another story. I hope you'll like it. I had this Prologue written out for about... three days now, but it wasn't quite finished yet.
Uhm. It's not betaed, because I forgot what I send to my beta and what not. I'm stupid. I'm sorry.
Anyway, to everyone who commented anonymously on my last story... I can't answer your questions if you post anonymously, I'm sorry. So yeah. D=
Star Trek and every character [apart from those who are obviously made up by me] belong to their respective owners.
Uhm... enjoy I guess.
Between two Worlds
The clock above the door ticked loudly, the sound almost deafening in the silence. Moonlight spilled into the room from the half-open window, cold air blew across the floor and swept more dust underneath the bed. Outside the locked door one could hear two voices arguing. Sam and Frank were fighting again.
Jim coughed and settled himself more firmly into the amount of pillows that he had gathered beneath the bed.
It was the only place in the entire house that made him feel remotely safe.
He folded his legs, pressing his knees against his chest as he buried his head in a pillow. They were shouting now and from the way Frank was slurring his consonants, the old man was drunk. Again. No wonder, really. Frank had never been a pleasant man, hitting Sam and Jim whenever he thought it was necessary. Over the past month however, the brute had lost his job and started to get drunk regularly. The violence had lessened, due to the constant intoxication that kept Frank bound to the couch like a fat maggot lounging on a rotting piece of meat to feast upon the decomposing matter. However, whereas the beatings had become less frequent, they had become more vicious and were mostly directed at Jim, because he never knew when to shut his fucking mouth.
Sometimes Frank kept kicking Jim's stomach until the drunk bastard passed out and left the boy to either wait for his older brother to come back home from work, or to crawl into his room as soon as he was able to move again. Other times he would just lock Jim in the walk-in closet and leave him there for hours.
Jim had tried to tell Winona what was happening at home once. She had told him that he had to stop telling lies about Frank. That he was just like his Father, George, useless and constantly chasing nonsensical dreams. He had not thought of her as 'Mother' since that day.
The arguing had stopped and Jim shifted uneasily in his hide-out.
Silence could mean a lot of things in this household. And only a few of those things were pleasant.
The door chimed, the noise echoing throughout the house like a gun-shot. He could hear the door being opened and Frank's scratchy slur greeted the person standing outside. Jim waited, narrowing his eyes as he tried to listen to what was being said.
Maybe somebody would finally get Sam and him out of this hell-hole. Or Frank's debts had finally become too high to pay and they had come to strip him of his status as a free citizen.
Jim smirked. That would be the ideal outcome. That bastard deserved nothing less.
More voices filled the air and Jim tried to curl up a little tighter. He froze when he heard multiple pairs of feet stomp up the stairs. What the hell was going on?
"Kid's in there. Prob'ly hidin' under the bed 'gain," he heard Frank say.
The door-handle was pulled down and Jim bit his lower lip when the locked door did not open. Hah.
The next second, the door was forced open and Jim could see two pairs of heavy boots approach his hiding-spot. Jim was unprepared for the meaty hands grabbing his ankle and pulling him out with a hard yank. He yelped as he found himself on his stomach, his shirt had ridden up his spine and he felt horribly exposed.
Hastily, he sat up as much as he could and turned to glare at the guy who had almost dislocated his foot. "What the hell?"
"He's pretty," the other man grabbed Jim's hair and pulled his head back to examine his face. "Tell me boy, d'ya like sex?"
"How would I know?" Jim snapped then blushed. Fuck. "W-what do you care anyway? Who are you?"
The stranger grinned with delight. "Ya hear that, Greg? We've got a virgin on our hands."
Why did he have to open his mouth? Did he really just tell a stranger that he was a virgin? He should just cut out his tongue to prevent any further nonsense from escaping him.
"What the fuck are you talking about? Frank, what did you do?" Jim pushed the hand away that was grasping his hair in a painful grip and turned his head to stare at Frank whom was standing in the doorway. "What's going on?"
"Your daddy just sold you to pay his debts."
"He's not my Dad," Jim screamed. "You can't just sell me you fucking bastard! Repay your debts, but don't do it by-! Don't touch me!"
The man called Greg had lifted him to his feet by grabbing his upper arms roughly and Jim tried desperately to get away. The large hands had practically wrapped themselves around his biceps, gripping them with bruising strength, erasing all hope of being able to escape. Moments later they pulled him out of the room, his feet dragging across the floor as he thrashed against the man's hold.
"You can't do this to me! Fuck-" Jim went silent for a moment when his eyes locked onto his brother's slumped figure.
Sam was sitting on the couch, hand held in his hands, until Jim stumbled past him and the young man looked up with dull, green eyes.
"Let go! Fuck, let go! Sam!" Jim immediately shut his mouth when he realised that he had called out for his older brother like he was seven years old again and a firm believer of Sam being his fearless protector. It was pathetic, really. He was seventeen for fuck's sake. How old did he have to get until he stopped depending on his older brother?
The front door was opened and a gust of icy air hit his bare arms. His brain instantly registered what was about to occur. And thus, he was once again reduced to screeching and shouting for help. "No! Sam! Sam, help me! Don't let them do this!"
Sam did not move, he merely stared at Jim and only now Jim noticed the third stranger holding a phaser to Sam's temple. Something inside Jim broke when he realised that no one would help him. In that miniscule second that it took for him to understand this, Greg had lifted him off his feet and practically threw him into the black hover-car idling just outside the fence surrounding the house.
Jim fell onto the floor, disgust rising within him when he noticed that it was not just a fancy car but a fucking limousine. Greg climbed in after him, pulling the door closed.
"Better get comfortable, kid. It's gonna be a long drive."
"Fuck you," Jim hissed. "You have no right-"
"Oh, but we do. You see, Frank owes our boss a very high sum of money. Since he's your legal guardian selling you was within his rights," Greg reached out and patted Jim's cheek. "I think the boss will be very happy to have you working for him."
"You're disgusting," Jim pulled his knees to his chest, trying to make himself as small as he could.
Greg laughed and leaned back.
The doors in the front opened and the other two men got into the car. Jim scrambled onto the seat to look out of the window. Sam was standing in the doorway of their home, the light illuminating his figure and throwing his face into deep shadows. The car gave a deep hum and Jim pressed his hands against the cold pane that separated him from the world.
The car started to move just as Sam seemed to make a decision. The young man began to run towards the limousine, but fell back when it picked up speed rapidly.
The last thing Jim saw was Sam falling to his knees in the middle of the muddy road, before a sharp sting to his neck graced him with artificially induced sleep.
Lalalaaa... yeah. I don't even know what the hell I'm doing.