Halloween Conclusion
Oct. 31st, 2012 04:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reformingfuryIt’s something of a miracle that Dave can even still think about anything beyond, “Oh shit, I think I might die tonight,” as Nick and Azimio and their party drag him off to where ever they are, but his thoughts are rather clear. He knows they’re liking taking him to his dad, and that it’s probably not nearly as far off as he hoped. If they were, then maybe someone else could help interfere so he could manage to get away, find Maxxie again, and hole them up, safe and sound with a lock until this whole thing passes.
Dave doesn’t think much about God these days and typically only does wen he’s panicking, like when he first started to think he might be gay, but for once he’s just thanking the big cosmic abstraction for giving him a pretty decent time before he goes. Sure, it might have been a shitty month, but at least today was proof that people seriously gave a shit about him. Friends. Near strangers, even. A lover. He’s glad to have a chance to just enjoy being himself without having to cover it up with his asshole mask before getting shucked off to the lands of fire and brimstone, so to speak. Praying and reflecting on these seemingly small blessings is a hell of a lot better than focusing on the snide, homophobic remarks of his former friends.
As predicted, it wasn’t a long trip up and out of the compound. Those passing by were either too much in a hurry or a daze themselves from the day’s horrors to notice a half beaten boy was being taken somewhere that wasn’t the clinic by people who definitely weren’t on the island before today. They just passed the graffiti and his effigy and went ‘round the corner of the building to the tool shed. Great. Original, even. Fuckers.
The doors open and he’s tossed in, groaning as he lands right on his more bruised side. Dave hears sliding against the door as it’s shut, likely with something barricading him in with the familiar shoes of his father before him. He looks up at Paul Karofsky moments before he’s roughly dragged to his feet and punched square in the jaw, sending him back to the ground.
“I was sincerely hoping that you’d come to your senses by now, or get all that sin out of your system, David.”
His father was sounding disturbingly calm, compared to the first time he showed up and in several of his nightmares. If it weren’t for the context of what’s happening, he’d almost think that this was the real man. But Paul wasn’t really a handy man, and through a swelling eye, Dave can see him go though the tools with precision.
“No, you had to run off with that... slut of a foreigner. I guess we’ll have to beat it out of you after all.”
Now the panic was really setting in as Dave struggled again to get up. Darting around with his good eye, he sees a rake of some sort in the corner by him. Reaching as his father starts walking up to him again, his fingers find the wood and metal and swings the rake at the man’s legs knocking him back in surprise.
“Go fuck yourself, old man,” Dave spits as he manages to get up.
Paul, hammer in hand, looks at him with a stunned expression, before it turns dark and he rushes back to him in anger, ready to hit him over the head. Dave smacks him back again with the rake, harder this time and not stopping.
“I’m perfectly fine this way!” he finds himself yelling. “I’m fine, there’s nothing wrong or weird with me, and if you don’t think that, you can fuck off and die!”
But Dave doesn’t see that, in beating his old man back, he’s manage to slam his head right into something sharp on the wall. A hand rake someone hung up facing the wrong way. It sticks to the man’s head with a sickening sound and he slumps forward.
He stares at his dad’s lifeless body and feels suddenly very cold. Spinning around and still running on adrenaline, Dave slams up against the shed door, forcing it open against whatever was used to hold him in. The jocks that dragged him in are no where to be see. Turning, Dave finds his father’s body also missing. But not the blood and the rake.
He looks numbly back out the door and retches.
Dave doesn’t think much about God these days and typically only does wen he’s panicking, like when he first started to think he might be gay, but for once he’s just thanking the big cosmic abstraction for giving him a pretty decent time before he goes. Sure, it might have been a shitty month, but at least today was proof that people seriously gave a shit about him. Friends. Near strangers, even. A lover. He’s glad to have a chance to just enjoy being himself without having to cover it up with his asshole mask before getting shucked off to the lands of fire and brimstone, so to speak. Praying and reflecting on these seemingly small blessings is a hell of a lot better than focusing on the snide, homophobic remarks of his former friends.
As predicted, it wasn’t a long trip up and out of the compound. Those passing by were either too much in a hurry or a daze themselves from the day’s horrors to notice a half beaten boy was being taken somewhere that wasn’t the clinic by people who definitely weren’t on the island before today. They just passed the graffiti and his effigy and went ‘round the corner of the building to the tool shed. Great. Original, even. Fuckers.
The doors open and he’s tossed in, groaning as he lands right on his more bruised side. Dave hears sliding against the door as it’s shut, likely with something barricading him in with the familiar shoes of his father before him. He looks up at Paul Karofsky moments before he’s roughly dragged to his feet and punched square in the jaw, sending him back to the ground.
“I was sincerely hoping that you’d come to your senses by now, or get all that sin out of your system, David.”
His father was sounding disturbingly calm, compared to the first time he showed up and in several of his nightmares. If it weren’t for the context of what’s happening, he’d almost think that this was the real man. But Paul wasn’t really a handy man, and through a swelling eye, Dave can see him go though the tools with precision.
“No, you had to run off with that... slut of a foreigner. I guess we’ll have to beat it out of you after all.”
Now the panic was really setting in as Dave struggled again to get up. Darting around with his good eye, he sees a rake of some sort in the corner by him. Reaching as his father starts walking up to him again, his fingers find the wood and metal and swings the rake at the man’s legs knocking him back in surprise.
“Go fuck yourself, old man,” Dave spits as he manages to get up.
Paul, hammer in hand, looks at him with a stunned expression, before it turns dark and he rushes back to him in anger, ready to hit him over the head. Dave smacks him back again with the rake, harder this time and not stopping.
“I’m perfectly fine this way!” he finds himself yelling. “I’m fine, there’s nothing wrong or weird with me, and if you don’t think that, you can fuck off and die!”
But Dave doesn’t see that, in beating his old man back, he’s manage to slam his head right into something sharp on the wall. A hand rake someone hung up facing the wrong way. It sticks to the man’s head with a sickening sound and he slumps forward.
He stares at his dad’s lifeless body and feels suddenly very cold. Spinning around and still running on adrenaline, Dave slams up against the shed door, forcing it open against whatever was used to hold him in. The jocks that dragged him in are no where to be see. Turning, Dave finds his father’s body also missing. But not the blood and the rake.
He looks numbly back out the door and retches.
