Dementia
Dementia | R
Kyuhyun/Ryeowook
This labyrinth is the sanctuary for our insanity.
☆ Something I've always wanted to write for a long time but haven't been able to come up with the right words :/ Be warned, it's kind of dark.
---
Dementia
theclockiswrong
I was inspecting the thin red lines across my wrists; they looked like fine red threads against my pale skin. I brushed my fingers over them almost fondly, feeling the raised flesh with my fingertips, I remembered how I had sliced my wrists so carefully with a switchblade last night and the euphoric feeling that came along with it.
"I really think that you should get checked into mental hospital for help, Hyun-sshi," I heard my colleague's voice behind me and when I flinched with surprise, my nails accidentally grazed over my healing skin and there was a sharp sting which made me inhale deeply. I glowered at Sungmin briefly before I tugged the sleeve of my white hospital coat back down to hide the cuts. He was still staring at my wrist.
"I am already in one if you didn't notice," I said coldly and I always sound so angry even though I'm really not. Sungmin scoffed and finally left my side and ambled towards his own desk in the office, searching through the mountain of files stacked on his table. He then noticed a broken mug on the floor - mine, the spilled black coffee. He raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged.
"Tough day?" He asked and I pretended as though I couldn't hear him. "Heechul told me that you didn't leave last night," He drawled on and I purposely didn't answer him. There was a pretty long silence at first, filled with the sound of shuffling papers and the cawing from the ominous black crows outside that were everywhere around the hospital grounds. I was inspecting my switchblade when Sungmin spoke again.
"I know how hard it is to lose a patient, Kyuhyun; but there really isn't any point in blaming yourself for it. You tried to help and it isn't your fault his system couldn't take it..." He was trying to be all kind and concerned, a typical Lee Sungmin thing to do but I really wasn't in the mood to listen to him no matter what his good intentions were. If Sungmin was helping with anything at all, it would be just at making things worse.
To be honest, I couldn't feel anything anymore; I was numb. I could hardly give a damn about whatever Sungmin was saying. I really wanted to scream at him and tell him to shut the fuck up because really, he won't come anywhere close to understanding anything I was going through.
"How many patients have you lost before, Sungmin?" I asked quietly, interrupting his mindless rambling and there was a brief silence.
"None," Sungmin finally breathed out and there was a slight victorious smirk on my lips.
"Hypocrite," I muttered softly under my breath but I knew Sungmin could hear me. The atmosphere inside the office became even more sullen and Sungmin then cleared his throat. There was nothing more to be said.
* * *
He pressed his lips gently against my pulse and I shuddered when he let the tip of his wet tongue trace along the cuts on my sensitive skin. I groaned softly and wide eyes looked up at me curiously, endearingly; and he licked at the inside of my healing wrist again.
"Another patient of mine died last night," I told him softly, my other hand stroking his soft brown hair and tucked a stray curl behind his ear. He was curled up by my side, his head rested against my stomach and staring up at me the whole time as I spoke to him. He was listening to me intently and although he made no noise, I knew he could understand me. I knew that he was the only one who could understand me.
When he straddled my lap and kissed me, his warm palms pressing to my cheeks, something told me that things were going to be alright. He ground his hips downwards roughly against mine and I moaned deeply while he nibbled on my earlobes playfully.
"Ryeowook," I hissed, my eyes flashing him a wary look and he laughed deeply. My hands had managed to find their way under the thin material of his hospital robe, grasping every inch of flesh I could find and when my finger brush across the tiny entry in between the cleft of his butt, he humped back onto my finger and the noises he made were all so endearing and wonderfully arousing.
By the time I had his body writhing and arching his back gracefully beneath me, everything was so much better already.
* * *
Kim Ryeowook.
18 years old.
Victim of domestic violence and sexual abuse.
Suicidal, mental and emotional disorder.
"You're quite obsessed with that sexually abused boy lately," Yesung was once again being overtly hateful by hovering over my shoulder and his black eyes were blatantly scanning through the file and the reports spread across my desk. His hand slid pass my shoulder fluidly and rested there as though a friendly gesture and Sungmin glared at him suspiciously.
"I heard he's a really pretty boy... hard to resist from copping a feel, hmm," Yesung was whispering hotly against my ear and it was was really beginning to piss me off, his fingers are stroking my coat where my collarbones were. He picked up a photograph of Ryeowook slotted in between the papers and studied it closely; Ryeowook looks like a lost orphaned bunny rabbit in it, large brown teary eyes pleading and bruised cheeks. The over-sized white shirt sliding off one shoulder, angular collarbones and the lewd markings over the junctures of his pale neck. What a beautiful sight.
Yesung was so absorbed into the photograph; the rumours he had heard were all true. Ryeowook was a very pretty boy, lovely pale face and those vulnerability in his eyes were just begging to be taken advantage of. Everyone who saw him wanted him, I knew - but he belonged only to me and nobody else could have him.
* * *
Everyone in the hospital knew what kind of slut Yesung really was so it didn't come to be a great surprise when they learned about how Yesung slipped into Ryeowook's room unnoticed and tried to violate a helpless victim. It was just a matter time really. In fact, everyone felt that that disgusting whore really deserved it when Ryeowook unexpectedly retaliated and nearly ripped out his throat with his short blunt nails. Good boy.
When they carried Yesung's unconscious body away on a stretcher, his eyes were wide open and he was making irritating gurgling noises. At least I was considerate enough to hide the smirk that threatened to show on my face. Yesung ought to be gracious. I hoped that he would die a slow and painful death.
* * *
"You belong only to me," I whispered into Ryeowook's ear while I cradled him in my arms that night after I tended to the scratches and bruises Yesung gave him, the white bandage around his wrists like shackles binding him to me. He was licking at the dried up blood under his fingernails like a cat while smiling at me and he purred exactly like one when I caressed my lips against his.
He sat on my lap while I stroked his hair gently and he was showing me gratitude by kissing me and sucking on my tongue while fondling me in between my legs. I learned that he could understand my body language just from listening to the moans that poured from my lips and from the way I touched him. Perhaps it was something he picked up while being with his former, what do you call it --Lover? --Master? Either way, I was glad.
From what I read from his records, some gangsters murdered his family because of a huge amount of debts, but spared him because they thought he had 'potential.' And so they sold him off to some sex maniac who taught and showed him many things too explicit for any eight year old child to learn or understand. In short, he was raised up as a sex slave to please filthy rich perverted bastards who liked to do terrible things to pretty little boys like himself.
I could imagine what kind of sick torture he had to go through from the mutilations all over his delectable body, but those dark bruises, deep lash marks and burn lacerations that appeared on his pale skin didn't make him any less desirable. In fact, they only made you want him more. They put ideas into your head, make you imagine all those wicked things you want to do to him, humiliate him some more. He made people around him feel superior and the given power they held over his pitiful helpless soul promised no boundaries.
To be honest, I'm not any different from those sick assholes who did all those cruel shit to Ryeowook - okay, maybe a lot poorer and less creative - but I wanted him as much as they did. I wanted nothing more than to put that desperate and pleading look in his brown innocent eyes, have him shaking with need against me and make him beg and want nobody else but me, want nothing else but my hands on him or me pounding into his heat mercilessly. But I knew Ryeowook didn't mind me, from the way he moaned and let me slide my dry fingers in him and spread him wide for me and he allowed me to do whatever I damn please to him. I think he really liked me.
He unfastened my belt quickly and rubbed me roughly through my damp underwear and I bucked my hips. He spread my legs apart and knelt in between them before leaning down and began to suck and lick at the front of my underwear, his tongue pressing sweetly against my pulsing erection underneath the cotton. Once he pulled my underwear down to my thighs and latched his beautiful mouth over my hardness and curled his tongue around the head, I knew that he wanted to please me badly. Perhaps that was the way he was brought up, to be a sexual plaything and to make people happy. Well, that really didn't matter to me because I wasn't the one to complain.
Maybe somewhere along the times we shared together and sex we'd been having, I had unknowingly been appointed as his new owner. Perfect. In my mind, he was already marked as mine so I really liked the idea of him being labeled as my pet and him knowing it.
I know what you're thinking, but let me make it clear to you - I never said I was good-hearted or sane.
end.
☆ Yeah, I know. No, actually, I don't know :/ This is supposed to be a multi-chaper, but hmm, I'm beginning to question my own sanity -.-
Kyuhyun/Ryeowook
This labyrinth is the sanctuary for our insanity.
☆ Something I've always wanted to write for a long time but haven't been able to come up with the right words :/ Be warned, it's kind of dark.
---
Dementia
theclockiswrong
I was inspecting the thin red lines across my wrists; they looked like fine red threads against my pale skin. I brushed my fingers over them almost fondly, feeling the raised flesh with my fingertips, I remembered how I had sliced my wrists so carefully with a switchblade last night and the euphoric feeling that came along with it.
"I really think that you should get checked into mental hospital for help, Hyun-sshi," I heard my colleague's voice behind me and when I flinched with surprise, my nails accidentally grazed over my healing skin and there was a sharp sting which made me inhale deeply. I glowered at Sungmin briefly before I tugged the sleeve of my white hospital coat back down to hide the cuts. He was still staring at my wrist.
"I am already in one if you didn't notice," I said coldly and I always sound so angry even though I'm really not. Sungmin scoffed and finally left my side and ambled towards his own desk in the office, searching through the mountain of files stacked on his table. He then noticed a broken mug on the floor - mine, the spilled black coffee. He raised an eyebrow at me and I shrugged.
"Tough day?" He asked and I pretended as though I couldn't hear him. "Heechul told me that you didn't leave last night," He drawled on and I purposely didn't answer him. There was a pretty long silence at first, filled with the sound of shuffling papers and the cawing from the ominous black crows outside that were everywhere around the hospital grounds. I was inspecting my switchblade when Sungmin spoke again.
"I know how hard it is to lose a patient, Kyuhyun; but there really isn't any point in blaming yourself for it. You tried to help and it isn't your fault his system couldn't take it..." He was trying to be all kind and concerned, a typical Lee Sungmin thing to do but I really wasn't in the mood to listen to him no matter what his good intentions were. If Sungmin was helping with anything at all, it would be just at making things worse.
To be honest, I couldn't feel anything anymore; I was numb. I could hardly give a damn about whatever Sungmin was saying. I really wanted to scream at him and tell him to shut the fuck up because really, he won't come anywhere close to understanding anything I was going through.
"How many patients have you lost before, Sungmin?" I asked quietly, interrupting his mindless rambling and there was a brief silence.
"None," Sungmin finally breathed out and there was a slight victorious smirk on my lips.
"Hypocrite," I muttered softly under my breath but I knew Sungmin could hear me. The atmosphere inside the office became even more sullen and Sungmin then cleared his throat. There was nothing more to be said.
* * *
He pressed his lips gently against my pulse and I shuddered when he let the tip of his wet tongue trace along the cuts on my sensitive skin. I groaned softly and wide eyes looked up at me curiously, endearingly; and he licked at the inside of my healing wrist again.
"Another patient of mine died last night," I told him softly, my other hand stroking his soft brown hair and tucked a stray curl behind his ear. He was curled up by my side, his head rested against my stomach and staring up at me the whole time as I spoke to him. He was listening to me intently and although he made no noise, I knew he could understand me. I knew that he was the only one who could understand me.
When he straddled my lap and kissed me, his warm palms pressing to my cheeks, something told me that things were going to be alright. He ground his hips downwards roughly against mine and I moaned deeply while he nibbled on my earlobes playfully.
"Ryeowook," I hissed, my eyes flashing him a wary look and he laughed deeply. My hands had managed to find their way under the thin material of his hospital robe, grasping every inch of flesh I could find and when my finger brush across the tiny entry in between the cleft of his butt, he humped back onto my finger and the noises he made were all so endearing and wonderfully arousing.
By the time I had his body writhing and arching his back gracefully beneath me, everything was so much better already.
* * *
Kim Ryeowook.
18 years old.
Victim of domestic violence and sexual abuse.
Suicidal, mental and emotional disorder.
"You're quite obsessed with that sexually abused boy lately," Yesung was once again being overtly hateful by hovering over my shoulder and his black eyes were blatantly scanning through the file and the reports spread across my desk. His hand slid pass my shoulder fluidly and rested there as though a friendly gesture and Sungmin glared at him suspiciously.
"I heard he's a really pretty boy... hard to resist from copping a feel, hmm," Yesung was whispering hotly against my ear and it was was really beginning to piss me off, his fingers are stroking my coat where my collarbones were. He picked up a photograph of Ryeowook slotted in between the papers and studied it closely; Ryeowook looks like a lost orphaned bunny rabbit in it, large brown teary eyes pleading and bruised cheeks. The over-sized white shirt sliding off one shoulder, angular collarbones and the lewd markings over the junctures of his pale neck. What a beautiful sight.
Yesung was so absorbed into the photograph; the rumours he had heard were all true. Ryeowook was a very pretty boy, lovely pale face and those vulnerability in his eyes were just begging to be taken advantage of. Everyone who saw him wanted him, I knew - but he belonged only to me and nobody else could have him.
* * *
Everyone in the hospital knew what kind of slut Yesung really was so it didn't come to be a great surprise when they learned about how Yesung slipped into Ryeowook's room unnoticed and tried to violate a helpless victim. It was just a matter time really. In fact, everyone felt that that disgusting whore really deserved it when Ryeowook unexpectedly retaliated and nearly ripped out his throat with his short blunt nails. Good boy.
When they carried Yesung's unconscious body away on a stretcher, his eyes were wide open and he was making irritating gurgling noises. At least I was considerate enough to hide the smirk that threatened to show on my face. Yesung ought to be gracious. I hoped that he would die a slow and painful death.
* * *
"You belong only to me," I whispered into Ryeowook's ear while I cradled him in my arms that night after I tended to the scratches and bruises Yesung gave him, the white bandage around his wrists like shackles binding him to me. He was licking at the dried up blood under his fingernails like a cat while smiling at me and he purred exactly like one when I caressed my lips against his.
He sat on my lap while I stroked his hair gently and he was showing me gratitude by kissing me and sucking on my tongue while fondling me in between my legs. I learned that he could understand my body language just from listening to the moans that poured from my lips and from the way I touched him. Perhaps it was something he picked up while being with his former, what do you call it --Lover? --Master? Either way, I was glad.
From what I read from his records, some gangsters murdered his family because of a huge amount of debts, but spared him because they thought he had 'potential.' And so they sold him off to some sex maniac who taught and showed him many things too explicit for any eight year old child to learn or understand. In short, he was raised up as a sex slave to please filthy rich perverted bastards who liked to do terrible things to pretty little boys like himself.
I could imagine what kind of sick torture he had to go through from the mutilations all over his delectable body, but those dark bruises, deep lash marks and burn lacerations that appeared on his pale skin didn't make him any less desirable. In fact, they only made you want him more. They put ideas into your head, make you imagine all those wicked things you want to do to him, humiliate him some more. He made people around him feel superior and the given power they held over his pitiful helpless soul promised no boundaries.
To be honest, I'm not any different from those sick assholes who did all those cruel shit to Ryeowook - okay, maybe a lot poorer and less creative - but I wanted him as much as they did. I wanted nothing more than to put that desperate and pleading look in his brown innocent eyes, have him shaking with need against me and make him beg and want nobody else but me, want nothing else but my hands on him or me pounding into his heat mercilessly. But I knew Ryeowook didn't mind me, from the way he moaned and let me slide my dry fingers in him and spread him wide for me and he allowed me to do whatever I damn please to him. I think he really liked me.
He unfastened my belt quickly and rubbed me roughly through my damp underwear and I bucked my hips. He spread my legs apart and knelt in between them before leaning down and began to suck and lick at the front of my underwear, his tongue pressing sweetly against my pulsing erection underneath the cotton. Once he pulled my underwear down to my thighs and latched his beautiful mouth over my hardness and curled his tongue around the head, I knew that he wanted to please me badly. Perhaps that was the way he was brought up, to be a sexual plaything and to make people happy. Well, that really didn't matter to me because I wasn't the one to complain.
Maybe somewhere along the times we shared together and sex we'd been having, I had unknowingly been appointed as his new owner. Perfect. In my mind, he was already marked as mine so I really liked the idea of him being labeled as my pet and him knowing it.
I know what you're thinking, but let me make it clear to you - I never said I was good-hearted or sane.
end.
☆ Yeah, I know. No, actually, I don't know :/ This is supposed to be a multi-chaper, but hmm, I'm beginning to question my own sanity -.-