Vermin
Title: Vermin
Chapter: One-shot
Author: kiroyo
Genre: Violence, Gore, Angst, Drama
Warnings: Pedophillia, Rape, Castration, Death
Disclaimer: I own no one!
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Ruki x Reita
Synopsis: The past never leaves.
Comments: Comments?
Ruki's POV
It was 14th December 1999. It was a Friday. It was playtime, my classmates were building snow mans in the courtyard while I wandered off to the frozen pond behind the school. Our teachers had restricted us from entering there, for the ice wasn’t thick enough to skate on yet. But I couldn’t wait. I sneaked away from the supervision of the teachers and went to the rink, where I was raped.
I walked towards the man cowering in the far corner of the warehouse. He was scooting as far away as possible as he could from me. What an idiot really, could he not understand that we humans aren’t able to pass through walls? I chuckled softly, crouching down on one knee in front of him. His eyes widened and he whimpered, as I slowly trailed the thin blade down his face. Ah, he was shivering. Was he cold?
I turned to look at the back, where two huge rustic doors swayed, creaking in the howling wind. The cement floor was wet, dampened with melted snow flakes which the storm brought in. I reverted my attention back to the person in front of me again. Ropes bound his feet, wires trapped his hands behind his back, and a masking tape secured tightly around his face. All was right, except his eyes.
His eyes were glinting, with tears of fear? Fear. Did he even know fear? Does one have to know fear in order to perform it, or does one have to watch it unravel before him before learning what true fear is like?
I stared at the blade in my hands again. It was old, rusty, blunt, and obviously dropped out of practice. I still chose it though, as it was exactly what I needed.
“Are you cold?”
The blonde man in front of me shook his head, his long strands of hair getting stuck on the half dried blood on his cheeks.
I nodded my head in response to the question. It was freezing, out here, in the middle of the rink. I didn’t dare to open my eyes and look at the stranger in front of me. I just wanted to leave.
I tightened my grip around the knife and started cutting it down his shirt, his jeans. Oh he struggled, but it was futile though, for I had ensured that the ropes and all were tight as hell. I think I struggled more than him as the knife was blunt beyond use. I sawed through his clothes, and he screamed as the blade came into contact with his skin, with his flesh. Those didn’t matter, what was important was that I get his clothes off right now.
“Are you turned on?”
He squinted his eyes shut, unwilling to look at me. I knew he couldn’t deny my presence and his whereabouts no matter how much he wished as the tears forming crimson rivers down to his chin, dripping onto his chest were the result of my doings. I watched, mesmerized as the red droplets fell, one by one onto his pale unmarked skin.
I clamped my eyes shut. I did not understand his question. I was too ashamed to look anywhere. At my naked bare self. At the stranger in front of me running his eyes down my body. I seeked comfort in the blinding red beneath my eyelids.
I twirled the knife between my fingers, barely fascinated as I watched faint glimmers of light bounce on and off it. The man at my feet still refused to look at me. Now, that won’t do.
“Don’t you think this is fun?”
He whimpered again, shaking his head profusely from side to side. His chest was heaving heavily, nostrils flared as he sobbed. He looked pathetic.
I clamped my hands over my ears, refusing to hear the stranger’s voice anymore. His questions did not make sense. This did not make sense. I was cold. I was beyond freezing. I couldn’t feel the tips of my toes nor my fingers. I was lying flat on the ice, in the middle of the rink, my small self beneath this big man. It was the first time I ever regretted disobeying the teachers. Right there and then, I wanted the ice to break beneath our weight. I wanted to drop down and drown in the waters. In the cold that would transport us both to hell.
I looked at him again, who refused to open his eyes. Picking up the rusty blade, I lightly prodded the blunt tip on his eyelid. He howled, and squinted his eyes even tighter. This was getting annoying. Exerting a little pressure, I etched the blade down his right eyelid, a thick red line following suit. He screamed again, his voice breaking off at the end this time, and both his eyes sprang open. Ah finally.
The cold was numbing me. It helped. The pain from the repeated unwanted intrusions into my body was masked by the cold. I still had my eyes closed, I felt sick. This act itself was sick. I clutched onto my ears and willed this all to end.
He was now staring at me. No, not with malice, but with fear and a slight touch of anticipation at what was about to happen to him. He needn’t wait long though. The end was near.
After an eternity passed, he withdrew himself from within me and stood up. I could hear the metallic clinking of his belt as he fastened his pants back on. I then heard the best thing in my life: his retreating footsteps.
I pushed myself off the ground and stretched. His eyes flickered with relief for a moment before he saw me took 2 steps to the right and kneeled down next to his hip. I took out my knife again, and stared at the tubular organ before my eyes. I laughed. I threw back my head and laughed. Shouldn’t his thing be engorged and swelling with pride like it did 21 years ago? I brought the rusty blade close, slipped it under his length and jiggled my wrist a little. Its flaccid state shifted a bit and then remained stock still.
Turning to the left, his eyes met mine again. He was crying again now, having seemingly fully understood his circumstances and my intentions. I gave him a wry smile and rotated my wrist 15 minutes to 3. I then realized I had a problem. Moving my left hand to pause in mid air in front of my face, I frowned sadly at it, for I was reluctant to stain it with this vermin’s blood. Then I spotted a dull red at the corner of my eyes.
Barely a meter from me at my right sat a broken brick. My eyes lit up and I smiled. This would save me all the trouble. I reached over and closed my fingers around it, bringing it to where my other hand was. As I slowly closed the distance between the slab of rock and the knife, I kept my eyes focused on his face.
His eyes which sparkled beautifully with ruby tears just now were opened wide again, and he was shrieking. I wondered, was I even that noisy? I believed even I was more co-operative than him if I could say so myself.
I had to exert more and more force as I closed the space between my hands. The piece of flesh was hard to break. It was terribly tedious as I had to do it without looking as I wanted to watch his face twist and contort under my actions. The noises he was emitting were encouraging though, I could hear Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata playing next to the shell of my ears.
I was enjoying myself so much that a loud clunk startled me out of my reverie. I looked down at my hands once again, realizing that the brick and blade had met in an elegant grotesque vermillion catastrophe. Lying next to my now scarlet hands was his instrument which sparked the start of this.
At the same moment, it also occurred to me that the orchestra had stopped playing. When I looked to my left again, the face which displayed numerous emotions just now was now motionless. His entire body was as still as his shaft just now. Pathetic.
I smeared the red off my hands onto his legs before walking over to his face. Squatting down, I stared at his dull eyes. I sighed, a pang of regret hitting me for I had wanted to watch the light leave his eyes, but instead I was too caught up in the music of his screams. This was annoying.
Tilting my head to the side, I slowly lifted my right hand and aligned it perpendicular to his eyes. When I was satisfied and felt sure enough, I released the knife.
A/N: Omg this is like the total opposite of what I usually write lol. Wrote this with Pledge on loop. Apparently it gave me such.. Inspiration.