CONTAINS CONTENT:
Violence, mild torture, humiliation.
{{Unedited}}
Austin saw her start to waver, and darted, sweeping her off her feet before she completely crashed to the ground. He looked down at her.
She’d gone catatonic, and for the first time in his life in a situation like this, he felt himself starting to panic.
He’d been captured before; Chamber when he gave him the snake tattoo, one time in Africa with a partner, another time in Switzerland. He’d managed all of them, and eventually gotten away. In Switzerland, they’d eventually let him go along with four others. In Africa, he’d had to escape with his partner. The most he’d panicked was Chamber… until now.
The fear that was overtaking him wasn’t for himself; it was all for her. He looked around the room. Utilities? Food? Anything? What could he use. Sniffling and finding tears on his face, he started to speak, “Marielle,” he whispered. No response. “Okay…” he said aloud. “Okay, okay, okay.” He took her to the sink; he had to get her mind moving again.
Holding her over the edge the way that they do in hair salons, he kept the rest of her body stable against him, and turned the water on. It was frigid. He started to use his right hand to dab some onto her face, “Come on, Marielle… Oh, God, please.” He tried to calm his erratic breathing.
He stopped for a moment and took in a deep breath. She was locked in a world somewhere that he couldn’t reach. “Come on, darling,” he urged. Nothing. “Come on, come on, come on, come on,” he breathed over and over. Nothing. He dabbed a little more water onto her face. She was lost. He bent, tears flooding his eyes, “Marielle, stay,” he begged. “Please,” he pleaded. He pressed his forehead to hers, “Please?” She was frozen. He brushed the tip of his nose against hers, and pulled back, looking down at her. She was completely broken. He had one card that he hadn’t played yet… and he slowly leaned in towards her lips… he stopped himself. No, she couldn’t consent to it. She couldn’t stop him. He drew her against him and cried, rocking her a little, “Please?” He whispered, “I need you,” he cried. “I need you,” he begged, and his mind wandered to the last time that he’d said these words… that night. It seemed like forever ago, now. Back then, he’d wanted her, now, he actually needed her.
He needed her kindness, and her strength. He needed her laugh, oh God, how he needed her laugh right now, and her smile. He forced one of his own at her through his tears and brushed the tip of his nose against hers again, then stared. “You’re so damn beautiful, Marielle,” he whispered, deciding to just talk to her. She was still in there, she heard him even if she didn’t register it. “Marielle, I have a secret that I want to tell you,” he teased, his tone boyish. “But I won’t tell you unless you come back to me.” He gave her a gentle squeeze, and continued to speak through his tears, “I’ll tell you all the secrets if you come back to me, and we’ll go back to that forest and be little kids again… we’ll find that witch, and kill her… and I’ll give you my kiss… and we’ll be okay, because-” he paused, “because we’re together,” he breathed. She stirred a little, blinking. His eyes widened, “That’s it… that’s it, darling, come back.” He put a little more water on her face, then trickled a little into her mouth between her parted lips.
She closed her mouth and swallowed, then blinked again, “V-Vincent,” she whispered. His heart stung. She was calling for Vincent, not him. Her eyes widened and she realized and remembered where she was. “Oh, Austin!” She cried, throwing her arms around his neck, clinging. “Austin,” she sobbed.
His eyes fluttered closed. He could no longer keep himself from repeating her when she said his name in a way made him respond. “Austin…” he whispered, keeping her tone against his mind as he held her. She shivered. The room was freezing and both were wet from his attempts at waking her.
He pulled her away from the sink and took her to the single bed, laying her there. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so, sorry. I should have seen this coming,” he breathed against her cheek as he sat on his knees next to the cot. There was only a flimsy mattress and a sheet, that would give her no warmth as she drew her knees to her chest and shook so hard that she ached.
“It’s okay… it’s not your fault,” she whispered back through chattering teeth, her wet hair streaked across her face.
“Do you trust me? Can I come warm you?” he asked. She nodded, desperate for his body against hers- for the shivering to stop. She was shaking so hard that she felt her stomach twisting and preparing to vomit. He came up onto the mattress and slowly turned her towards him, “I’m not warming your back,” he breathed as he tucked her against himself. She was awake, but she was still quite unresponsive. He was combing through the bits of her hair that had strayed out of her braid with his fingertips, as little emotionless tears dripped off her face and into the mattress. Her eyes were hollow and distant. “Oh, darling, you’re so scared,” he groaned with a deep sigh, aching at her pain. “Marielle can you-” he paused, “open up to me?” He swallowed hard, “trust me?” he asked. She was fairly closed off, still. “Marielle, open up to me,” he reiterated. “Let me in,” he pressed, and he gently put his fingertips and thumb to her temple, and cheek. “Let me in, darling,” he whispered. He felt her giving in, saw the blur beginning in her mind as it joined with his. “Yes,” he breathed, excitedly and he smiled at her for the first time since they’d gotten caught. When was the last time that she laughed? Frosty the snowman… right. She’d laughed as he’d said that. That was the last time that she’d laughed. “That’s right, come on… let’s go back,” he whispered. “Let’s go back to the forest.”
***
And in an instant, they were transformed, eight and nine years old, galivanting through the red trees. Austin was in front, and he had her hand as they made their way through the tall, winding woods.
Above head, the skies began to darken and the space around them transformed from bright and wondrous, to dark, dreary and terrifying. A thunder crack split the blackened sky and the wind started to pick up. “Austin!” Marielle cried, terrified. He pulled her through the wind as it beat against him, threatening to push his small frame over. He stopped only long enough to pull little Marielle against him, and rub her thin, bare arms, which were icy. “Austin, I’m afraid!” her small voice carried over the whipping winds.
“We have to keep going! I can stop this!” he cried back, pulling her along.
And as they came to a clearing, both realized that they were near a drop that didn’t seem to have a bottom in sight. He kept her behind him as he peeked down.
Worse, when they both looked up, they spotted something that appeared to be a swirling, tattered gray veil moving in a circle above their heads like a gathering storm cloud. The worn cloth spun until it gathered, revealing a woman at the center.
The woman’s skin was gray, her cheeks were sunken in, and her skin was injured, damaged and tight against her bones. She had long black hair, and Marielle knew internally that this was his mother. The ghastly form’s eyes popped open revealing hollow, white beams, and it lifted a gnarled finger, pointed at him and screeched loud enough to be heard over the storm, the thunder, and the rain.
“You can’t have her!” He screamed. The floating banshee screamed back, coming for them both. Austin stood his ground, “No!” he screamed back, fearless and ready to fight the thing. “I won’t let you take her!” he raged, and he bent and picked up a large stick from the ground, wielding it like a sword. “She’s mine, and you can’t hurt her! I won’t let you hurt her!” He wailed as rain began to pour down and beat against his chest and face. Marielle kept her face in between his shoulder blades.
In another instant, he was an adult, standing tall and handsome as ever and now his twig sword had been traded for nothing but his hand, he looked into it, empty except the rain that was beating down against it. Marielle was briefly an adult as well. “What do we do?” she asked over the storm.
He shook his head, eyes locked with the banshee’s.
He lifted his hand and began to freeze the apparition. It screeched, and the sound echoed and tore through the storm. Slowly the banshee turned into an ice statue, and fell down the chasm that they stood near, never to return.
The storm melted and the trees returned to their bright red and brown as the sky cleared of clouds and rain.
Little Austin fell to his knees, exhausted as his heart pounded.
Little Marielle was there with him, holding him from behind with her tiny arms. He looked at her with big, innocent blue eyes. “You…you told me that you had a secret?” She asked expectantly, her round green eyes beaming excitedly to share a secret with her best friend who’d just saved her from a wicked witch.
He nodded, gently pulling some of her hair through his finger and thumb. He swallowed hard as his breathing calmed. “I do…” he whispered, shakily and it rested on the inside of his mind, waiting to be birthed… but it wouldn’t be.
***
The door opened, and a man walked in wearing a white lab coat. He had perfectly combed ash blonde hair, an older face, and glasses which he adjusted as he looked them over. He gestured to both. “What’s this?” he asked in a tone that was disappointed to say the least. He turned to three others that were with him. “You know we can’t get the correct readings like this,” he sighed. Then he turned to them, flicking his gaze over both as he put his hands on his hips. “Too much hair,” he said, and he snapped a few times in the air as the men entered room, “it interferes with the readings… both of them,” he gestured again between Marielle and Austin, who hadn’t even realized that they were holding hands until they were pulled away from one another.
A short time after, a man and a woman, also in lab coats came into the room with electric razors.
Both Austin and Marielle went silent, knowing what was coming.
Austin looked over to Marielle who was staring distantly at the ground, disappearing into herself again as silent tears continued to stroll down her face, and smack into the floor.
Austin’s only care was her… it was hair… he’d regrow it. Hair growth like his only took a few months; half a year, maybe. That was that. But her… she had easily five or six years of long, luscious locks twisting down her back in that perfect braid that was being stripped from her head as he watched her cry, silently.
His chest ached, when would they let him hold her again? When could she be back against him? Why… why were they doing this; just to humiliate them?
A large chunk of black came off, and fell to the ground. She stared at it knowing that she’d never get it back. Regrow? Yes. But that lovely braid was disappearing forever. How strange that she’d kept thinking that she wanted a haircut… not this.
-I’m with you. She cried a little harder. –And I’ll protect you until they kill me. I promise. Vincent’s coming, Marielle, you know he is. You’ll be okay. She was gone again. –Marielle, please come back. Don’t do this, again. His eyes followed the razor as it went across his head, and chunks fell. -I’ll take you away, again… I’ll take you to that room that you love, and we’ll sit in front of a big fire, and talk all night long and drink wine or hot chocolate and I’ll sing to you… Do you want me to sing to you?
-Please.
-I will. Just stay with me, okay? Do you want me to take you away after all of this?
-Yes.
-Okay, where do you want to go? Do you want to go to your favorite room? The one where you feel like you’re falling into dancing flames?
-Yes, please take me there, Austin.
-I’ll take you anywhere you want.
The grunts who’d come in were sweeping up gobs of black hair, and once the floor was shining again, they left promptly.
The man who’d initially come in, turned to one of the men in the back, “is that machine working again?”
The grunt shook his head. “We have a little while, still. You know it’s been giving us problems.”
The man rolled his eyes and looked at his watch, “Surrounded by neanderthals,” he growled under his breath. “Okay, leave them be and let me know when it’s up and running.”
He left, taking everyone with him and locking the door again.
Marielle wandered, lost, and confused to the corner of the room, where she shivered against the wall, hugging herself around the middle.
He came to her, and slowly put his arms around her front, holding her from behind. She looked completely zoned out again, and now all her beautiful black hair was gone. There was only a little black fuzz crowning her head. His was the same, but he wasn’t thinking about that.
He dipped and took her off her feet again, and back to the bed where he laid her down gently, and returned to holding her trembling body against his. She was so small.
Reflexively, he reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear…oh… He closed his eyes, sadly for a moment, then forced a smile at her, as he opened them again, except they were filled with tears again. The fantasy, the secret, the witch, his kiss- unreceived… all far from their minds even though it was only a few minutes ago.
She sniffed, silent tears still streaming. -My mom used to say that my hair was so pretty…
–It is, Marielle…and you’ll have it again.
He took in a shaky pull of air and let it out slowly. He’d promised to sing to her… what? He searched his mind for a moment, trying to remember any song on the planet, but her pain was physically hurting him. It was here that he realized that being this connected to her meant that sometimes he could feel her hurt, too… having his baby would be interesting.
He shook his head… no promises of forever or family right now. Only now… only here in this moment… only laying here… only trying to forget everything… Trying to forget the world… That was it. He parted his lips and began to sing Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol in a thin, shaking tone.
She closed her eyes and listened to him.
***
Vincent threw his bag to the ground in front of the fireplace and leaned against the mantle for a moment.
Liam shooed the others away, and back to their rooms, and they obeyed, seeing the rage that was boiling just under Vincent’s skin.
They needed to be alone. Sasha gave him a nod as if to say, ‘if you need me, I’m here.’ Liam gave him a nod back, and Sasha wandered up the stairs.
After a moment, Vincent lost control, and swiped his fist across the mantle, taking a small statue, a painting, and a few books with it; they crashed to the ground. He turned, and started to pace.
Liam put a hand to his shoulder and squeezed feeling Vincent’s tense muscles as they burned under his skin. “Deep breaths, soldier. We’ll go after them.”
Vincent scoffed and looked down at the floor. “Right.” He rubbed his sinuses as he went to the bar and poured himself a shot of Grey Goose, downed it, then another, and downed that, too. “But not before they are completely ruined by whatever they’re doing to them right now.” He twisted the glass between his fingertips. “Austin will keep her safe,” Vincent said, downing a third shot. He paused, “As long as they keep him alive.”
Liam nodded once. “We need restock, weapons, rest, a plan… we’ll go first thing in the morning.”
Vincent grabbed the bottle, and sauntered back to the couch. “First thing in the morning,” he said, staring into the bright yellow flames as he sat. “Then I’m going in to rescue my wife…” he drank straight from the bottle, “and the man that she is in love with…” he added, dismissively.
Liam sat down by him, trying to take the bottle away. Vincent pulled it back, giving him a warning look and guarded it.
Liam paused, stroking his chin. “So, you know…” He said flatly.
“Of course I know,” he scoffed. “Funnily enough the only one who doesn’t seem to know is her,” he shook his head from side to side, set the bottle on the floor and put his face into his hands. “Marielle is in love with Austin Rancor in almost every world that I have visited…” He swallowed hard as tears formed in his eyes, “that’s all gone too, now.” Liam tilted his head at him, and narrowed his blue eyes. “Cory killed them…all of them. My mistake.” Liam took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as Vincent continued, “well, I made all of the mistakes, really. But it started with the idea that I had to save her from Cory and his plans… from Austin.” He turned back to the flames and stared as tears finally fell. “It never occurred to me initially that the Austin in my world was only a variation and not the Austin in every world. She was only able to let him go when he became something that was too far gone.” Vincent sneered and looked at the ceiling for a moment, “I thought that she needed saving… turns out that maybe… she just needed to love him.” Liam stayed silent, listening to him speak as he stroked his red beard. “I realized pretty quickly that he was only evil in my dimension… in almost all others, he would die for her,” he chuckled. “Austin in the other worlds? He’s actually a pretty good guy… she could do far worse,” he said in an ironic tone, as he laced his fingers under his chin, leaning over his knees. He took another swig from the bottle.
There was a pregnant pause, “So you’ve lost everything.”
Vincent pursed his lips and nodded, “Maybe I deserve to lose everything.” He gestured outward with his hand. “Look what I’ve done. Look what I’ve caused. We can’t lose now. Cory and Austin think they’re gods… what they’ve done… what they’re going to do.” He shuddered, pressing his middle, ring, and pinky finger into his eyebrow.
“Then you’ll have actually lost everything.”
Vincent nodded. “I screwed up,” he met eyes with Liam. “You’re welcome to put that on my tombstone,” Vincent scoffed, drinking from the bottle again. “I … screwed up.”
Liam was silent for a moment. “I don’t think that we’re going to lose you.” He swallowed hard, “But if we did- I think what I’ll put on it is…Friend…” Vincent scoffed silently and shook his head as he closed his eyes. Liam stood, “You need to sleep,” he insisted. “I don’t think you slept last night, watching for Tundra.” He noted. “Don’t do that tonight. She needs you rested and ready tomorrow.” Vincent agreed, drinking the last of the bottle off. He’d downed a good twelve ounces at this point, Liam was praying that he’d be able to handle that by morning. He had a feeling that Vincent knew how to hold his liquor, but it was certainly not something that he would have encouraged at this point. “We’ll get them. They can throw the whole playbook at us. I’ve seen it all before. Different battlefield, same crap,” Liam said with a nod.
Vincent pursed his lips to the side, patted Liam’s arm, and went to his room, parting ways with Liam and passing Sasha, – standing guard – on the way upstairs.
Vincent sat on the bed, refusing to look over at her spot. This would be the first night that he tried to sleep alone again for a while, and the fear and anxiety that he felt creeping up his back was palpable.
What were they doing to her? Were they torturing her? Cutting her? Molesting her?
Did Austin have her in his arms? Was he trying to comfort her by making love to her? His jaw tensed… did Austin even have her? A wave of nausea overtook him. Did Tundra?
How was he supposed to sleep? Was he about to lose her again? Maybe not her life… but certainly to Austin. She loved him. He saw the way she looked at him- the smiles that they were sneaking, the words that they said in secret to one another through their thoughts. He remembered that night that Austin had showed up to his house when Marielle had come to him. He had stood between the two of them-“No, no! Stop talking to him!”
He couldn’t do that, now. He couldn’t stand between the two of them and demand that he leave her alone… that he stop beating her, and forcing her, and running around on her… Austin wasn’t doing any of those things.
What did he do?
Vincent would rather Marielle be with Austin than be dead, of course… but the pain opening up in his chest was almost unbearable.
Then the memory of what Cory had said washed over him and he was instantly plagued with guilt, and sorrow. Yes, he’d heard him, yes, he’d repeated it to Liam… but now, in his loneliness, and despair it was sinking in; the reality of what Cory had done. Vincent prayed silently that he had been lying, but he knew deep down that he wasn’t. Cory had followed him, found the remaining Marielle’s, the same as Vincent had. He’d taken her body, and tested her until she died only so he could taunt him with it…and it was his fault. It was all his fault. He did this…
He shuddered then as another thought hit him… Tundra. God, he and Cory had tortured her doubles together, hadn’t they? Austin wouldn’t have waited to get in on that fun.
And Austin… Austin in all those other dimensions, he’d died for nothing. He was just… there; wrong place wrong time.
Tundra hated himself. So what better way to take care of that than to destroy his own image.
The ten commandments said, “thou shalt have no other gods before me…” Another verse talked about how man was created in God’s image… Tundra thought that all his doubles were created in his image, and that he had the right, and ability to destroy them. Vincent felt the twisting of sickness. Tundra was… sick. Vincent couldn’t even think about how sick… it had been something that he couldn’t bring himself to ponder any further than when he’d first learned it over two years ago.
Vincent put his face into his hands and let out a ragged, self-loathing breath as his mind twisted with images of Marielle tied to a bed, being bitten by Cory as he whispered, “you’re going to love this.”
He wouldn’t be able to tell Marielle any of this. He’d have to lie about another thing. It would be too much. She would – in fact – leave him.
How could he have been so stupid?
Slowly, he removed his coat, his shirt, his shoes, his ear studs, his watch, pants, and shirt, and lay back… after a minute, he lost all sense of himself and sobbed, turning, grabbing her pillow and tucking it against his body, protectively. The soft scent of roses and her sweat assaulted him, and he clutched it intimately.
Her voice echoed in his head –Was your pillow me, earlier?
-My pillow is always you, Masin…
He sobbed quietly into it; cradling it. “I love you, Masin,” he breathed. “I love you.”