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chandlerxfitzgerald · 2 years ago

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Chains // self para

The plan was simple, really. Chandler would graduate high school with the highest marks and jump the next flight out of the city. Every major destination he pointed to on a map tucked away in his suitcase were all places he'd visit, the itinerary for each day meticulously formulated with the teenager's enjoyment in mind. No more boring meetings, no more lessons, nothing but new experiences and careless flings. Another part of the master plan involved taking Morrigan with him. It proved challenging, to say the least. The times they were spending together had grown closer to nonexistent and most often than not did Douglas sparingly allow the siblings in each other's presence for weeks at a time. Visits were mere minutes.

This has been a continuing trend since what Chandler dubbed 'the incident'. Four days of physical and psychological abuse endured by the Urie children who sworn themselves to secrecy over one single name. One boy perished brutally, another was saved, and he wondered if it was worth the price. Julian's avoidance at school leading up to their senior year proved the lies worked well enough despite Chandler's secret desperation to fix what he helped shatter. Nothing could fix this, though. An innocent teenager still died and Douglas still claimed his victories. Desmond was gone, sent away to the opposite end of the earth for his part in the scheming, and their father insured pure isolation for the two children who remained. It seemed he and Morri greeted loneliness as an old friend.

But even loneliness overstayed its welcome. Chandler didn't remember how it happened or when, a sneaking suspicion told him a combination of Morri's absence and spending every meal alone in his room instead of at the table touched the fever pitch, but the very thought of spending another minute in the mansion caused him to snap. All meticulous planning was tossed through the window from that point. Chandler would require improvising as soon as he ran for the hills. A plane ticket he hadn't even purchased yet swapped for the bus, after the bus ride, enough leeway booking a flight. There isn't any sneaking off on the private jet, no, he would find his own way.

Chandler hauled the suitcase from its place in the closet across the bedroom floor and almost too aggressively slammed it on his mattress with determination before flipping the lid open. He continued moving around the room, checking off the mental list in his mind of anything needed on his travels. Pillows, fashion magazines, socks, the framed photograph of his siblings, all stowed away. He approached the open closet again and began haphazardly yanking every outfit he owned from their hangers, stuffing them in the bag without bothering to fold anything properly.

"And where do you think you're going, boy?" Chandler immediately halted mid-pack and froze at the sound of Douglas' demanding tone, fingers still clutching the periwinkle dress shirt that had always complimented his dark locks. Their interactions were sparse like his time with Morrigan, a personal choice of avoidance, not including the fact any Douglas appearance instantly caused flashbacks of the video feed. The whip sounds filled his ears, the screams haunted him no matter how he tried blocking out everything.

"Anywhere that you aren't." Chandy resumed packing, knowing keeping his back to his father would only further agitate. Let him get pissed. "School's finished, your lessons ended the moment you sent your precious heir away, and I cannot stand living every single day of my existence under lock and key." His hands plucked a scarf from the mixed pile of his clothes, wrapping and unwrapping it around his wrists as a distraction from what will inevitably transpire the longer he spent in the man's presence. Curious, how satisfying it would be tying the fabric around Douglas' throat and watch him slowly lose oxygen. A demented thought. "There's nothing left for me here."

"What has given you the impression your freedom was still an option?" The inflection of the word freedom sang a sarcastic note Chandler wished he could scrub from his skin with bleach. "How easily you've forgotten your role in this family already." Chandler flinched as his father all but slammed the door closed to invoke their privacy, despising the way Douglas forced him into a corner like a trapped animal. "Believe me, boy, the second I find it suitable for your brother's return, the both of you will spend your waking hours training until the day comes when Desmond takes his place as leader. Your actions, Chandler," Douglas sneered, taking a step forward, "Your life belongs to me. The man you used to call father detested the sight of you, your own family abandoned you. I gave you purpose."

"You gave me absolutely nothing." Chandler threw down the scarf still in his hands and whipped around impatiently, "All you do is preach and proclaim how it's a duty serving at the great Douglas Urie's feet when he thinks gratitude is an automatic given. I am nothing more to you than a back carrying the weight of that pedestal you've placed Dezzie on." He knew Desmond might disagree on the contrary, but the dig wasn't clearly directed at him. "You pretend to treat me like the son you never had, but the only reason I'm here's because you found an opportunistic advantage ready to mold to your liking."

"Such insolence." The man growled, maintaining a calm composure despite his temper sparking at the first indication of back-talking. "I thought it would have been an easy solution handing over everything you craved on a silver platter. I provided a sibling you idolized, the mansion, an enticing inheritance hefty enough to maintain your endless hunger for materialism, yet, nothing satisfied you. You still held resentment and thanklessness. You rebelled." Chandler released a scoff over the idea rebellion and turned back around to resume packing his suitcase, hiding the eye roll. Douglas continued his point regardless. "You've spat in the face of my generosities, so I knew taking away all I've given was the only path I could travel making you listen for once. The price you pay for conspiring against me behind my back."

And there it was, the confirmation Chandler guessed rang true from the beginning. Douglas stood on his high horse, building up the teenager and handing over a position of power just to tear him to pieces when he wasn't a viable piece of clay that could be shaped. Chandler's persona wouldn't allow a snake whisper in his ear and create an obedient soldier. The heart inside his chest cannot cease beating with emotion's absence, no matter what Douglas wanted. "I did what I had to do for her."

"And look where it has left you." The statement hung over Chandler's head like a sharp sword seconds from dropping. An executioner's guillotine. He could take his bags and storm away without giving his adopted father one last backward glance, shove aside the ways he's had everything taken from him, and start someplace where nobody passed judgement on his preferences. Chandler was stronger than this, better than this, but Douglas wouldn't let his son forget he will forever be at his mercy. Strength can only last for so long. "Living in complete solitude. Your friends have forsaken you, my boy, and your brother wasn't here to save the day. Not even the little slut would comfort you."

Chandler gripped the sides of his suitcase, gaze flickering to the bed comforter as flashbacks materialized the echo of his huddled form. Shivering in the freezing cold, fingers and toes nearly turning to ice, and the intercom playing a screaming symphony. "Did you really think I wouldn't break you, Chandler?" Douglas took advantage of the boy's silence. "Your resilience was something to be commended, though, proven challenging. I could have dealt with you the same as I handle those who defy me. Beat you into submission if I knew raising a hand would hold effectiveness, but you'd simply take the hit and continue revolting."

The memories were trickling back for Chandy the longer he stood there, eyes squeezed tightly closed and the temptation of plugging his ears with his hands increasing, anything to block out the noise. He could feel the phantom sensation of fingers gripping his arms, feet dragging along the wooden flooring with resistance, the surveillance footage searing the images of bruises and lash marks inside his brain. "A mind is a fragile thing, my boy." Nausea rose at the back of Chandler's throat, threatening an appearance if he didn't swallow it down quickly. "If I wanted a worthwhile punishment fitting for the crime, I needed to strike where your heart lies. Sending your imagination running rampant with spoken description doesn't hold a candle to seeing it live, does it?"

Chandler suddenly caught a glint of metal at the bag's bottom, partially covered by the sleeve of a sweater and beckoning him. The conversation dragged the fact he had packed it out of his thoughts, covertly purchased from a discreet dealer in Newford. It wasn't easy orchestrating back alley deals with another faction when eyes were on him, but his fight-or-flight response had kicked in. "It had to be her." Douglas was testing him, goading him, the jabs were making his heart race and ears ring. He couldn't take this any longer. "You needed to hear the cracks of the whip for yourself to realize every bruise, every slash along her flesh, her screams, were of your doing as much as they were mine. Reminding you that you have only your actions to blame for the whore's suffering. Her blood's on your hands, boy."

Chandler could feel his hand involuntarily wrap around the handle of the gun before he spun angrily on his heel, wasting no time pointing the weapon at his adopted father. He watched Douglas's face convey surprised confusion and finally coming to settle on boiling fury. That he, a privileged son, would possess the sheer audacity to draw a handgun on a faction leader. "Enough!" The teenager bellowed. He never spoke toward Douglas in this manner and, fuck, did he feel powerful. "I'm so sick and tired," He ground out through clenched teeth, "of watching you pretend as if you can call yourself a father. What kind of parent beats their own child into a coma? What kind forces his son to clean up the aftermath or mentally torments his other? You're no father of mine." Chandler saw a change in the man's expression, something unreadable, like Douglas knew some secret he didn't. He hated it. "You fucked with the temperature of my room. You made me watch Morrigan's suffering, knowing I couldn't do a damn thing about it." Chandler's grip around the gun's handle began wavering, anger and anxiety causing his hands to slightly shake. "Here's what's about to happen, you are going to let me leave and I'm taking Morrigan with me. And if you have us followed," His confidence was already slipping, "I'll pull this trigger."

"Will you?" Douglas hissed with venomous intent, bravely stepping closer until the gun's barrel pointed a foot from his chest. He knew the consequences staring down a weapon, the threat of his life was forever imminent as a faction leader, and it's justifiable believing he could die at anyone's hands. Paranoia isn't a foolproof form of protection. "See, here is what I think is about to happen. I will allow you to leave on your little vacation without the slut under the condition I will have you dragged back here when I see fit. You take a step near her bedroom and she'll spend the rest of her days chained in the basement until she's married off to a husband who can beat her every single day." The older male tipped his head back authoritatively, "You are weak, Chandler."

Chandler slowly lowered the gun and settled his hard gaze on the man's cold eyes, a stare-down between father and his disappointment of a son. Maybe the brief pause was a mistake on his part or the perfect opportunity while his guard was down, but he never saw it coming. Douglas didn't hesitate raising his hand and slapping the boy across the face, the force sending Chandler to the ground with a loud groan and knocking the weapon from his hands. "I made the mistake giving you freedoms in the past, but this punishment of yours isn't over." Chandler heard his father speak as he pushed himself into a sitting position, a palm cupping his already reddening cheek. "When you finally make your return back home, you will never see her again." Douglas shook his head dismissively and made his way to the bedroom door, "That's a promise."

He didn't bother watching the other leave. Instead, Chandler brushed away the shock with dignity and finally rose to his feet in complete defeat. For the time it took packing his suitcase with what was left, the decision was already made for him. His traveling was temporary, his punishment for keeping his sister and the Reese boy safe permanent, and the journey around the globe was going to be done alone. The ride to the airport wasn't short enough, especially with the flesh of his cheek still stinging a stark reminder of Douglas' promise.

Chandler removed his cell phone once he was settled in his seat on the flight and dialed Morrigan's number before placing the receiver to his ear with hesitation. He knew the chances of Morri still having her phone were slim to none, but he owed his sister this. "Hi, Morri," Chandler forgone his usual nickname for her, feeling he didn't deserve the honor anymore. Not after what he just did. "I don't even know if you'll get this message or if you're aware I'm gone, but, um," The recording picked up his brief sniff, "I had to go. I'm sorry. If I had to keep living at that house listening to this screaming in my head, I couldn't, I couldn't take it. I can't keep fighting anymore." He cleared his throat, tears lingering at the surface, and evident when he nearly choked on them. "You're free to hate me, call me a coward, and it's warranted. I ran and I wasn't able to bring you along. I'd give you a million explanations and you'd still hold resentment." He released a steady sigh and nodded once, "Just know that no matter what happens, you will always and forever will be my sister. I love you, Morrigan."

The beep at the end of the voicemail message ended, cementing Chandler's destiny.

#self para: chains #tw for physical abuse and just general douglas urie fuckery

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chandlerxfitzgerald · 2 years ago

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No Requiem // self para

Chandler never minded living in luxury's generous lap. He spent the money on designer clothes, owned the latest advances technology offered, and practically slept on silk sheets night by night. He even held the option being driven around the city by another, but today, this is something that required a trip alone. No private drivers means no one would judge him. True, he oftentimes enjoyed an audience of his flourishing dramatics, this time isn't the right moment for a performance.

He stepped out of the Rolls-Royce as soon as he pulled up along the edge of where he knew Douglas' grave sat and slung the duffle bag over his shoulder with a gentle huff. As he began the trek through the newly trimmed grass, he passed tombstones engraved by the names of the dead and placed aside the thought of how much he truly despised cemeteries. They were depressing, a reminder that a majority who ended up there had died at Urie's hands, at least that is what the young Fitzgerald imagined. Chandler finally reached the final resting place of the man who caused so much damage to everyone around him. The tombstone was tall, foreboding in a way, and a sculpted angel sat at the very top, looking down on him as if in mockery. Douglas was no angel in life, definitely not one in death. It may as well have been Lucifer's previous angelic form overseeing the former Hedgestone leader.

"Well, hey. Pops." Chandler greeted sarcastically, dropping the bag he hauled to the ground and sticking his hands in the pockets of his wool coat. His gaze briefly flickered the etching on the stone, the elaborate border lovely if it weren't for its place on a monster's marker. The header, Father, son, husband, dedicated leader forced a snort from the irony. Dedicated leader, Chandler's ass. "You're probably gazing up at me from Hell and wondering why I've wasted my time coming all the way here. I have a faction you cared more about than your own children to help run." He waved a hand dismissively and continued, "Personally, I think we should've cremated your ass and flushed what's left of your ashes down the toilet like the piece of shit you were. Would've been funnier."

"Morrigan's doing fantastic, by the way." Chandy couldn't deny the smug grin stretching his lips, glowing pride overtaking every inch of his being. "You underestimated her, Pops. She can be ruthless when she sees fit, she instrokes fear in an artful precision you never succeeded during your reign, and we both know who we have to blame for that. Don't we?" The thing they didn't talk about, those nights of torment and psychological warfare waged by their father leaving scars in different methods.

Chandler erased the memories from his mind for the moment. "She stole a page from your book, though. Messing with someone's head, forcing her victims to believe something that was not actually true just to make an example." He nodded once, "True, Momo knows you wouldn't have hesitated executing two traitors if you were still in charge, but she bloodies her hands when needed. She isn't the meek flower obeying under a dominate man that you thought she would be. The prize, the submissive whose only purpose was providing her husband a male heir. A sexual object incapable of thought." Morrigan rose above and proved her worth. "She's a kingless queen. And I her loyal second-in-command standing proudly through thick and thin."

His eyes hovered over the death date, practically burning a hole in the granite, as he fell silent for a long minute. "Do you know the day I remember often? I was fourteen. It had been about a month since I came to live in the mansion and you forced me to a suit fitting. You gave the spiel about how I was flying the Urie banner and shoved the responsibility of sharing duties with Desmond down my fucking throat." There was another pause. "That's also the time I finally understood how worthless you thought about your own daughter. You made me her replacement and I never asked for it." A sardonic chuckle exited Chandler's mouth at the next statement. "However closeminded you became, no matter my particular lifestyle, you'd rather suffer a flamboyant son than hand over power to a woman. I wasn't about to make it easy for you, Pops...I wanted you paying for it every goddamn day."

"Do you want to know a secret between us manly men with our superiority just because we have dicks? The same way you underestimated Morri, I underestimated you with your cruelty." Chandler began fidgeting with the sleeves of his coat considering the tightness those memories created constricting inside his throat. When most people experience severe trauma as the siblings endured, a brain would block out what causes the pain and buries it deep. Untouched, forbidding access until the person is ready if they ever reach the point in their lives. "Four days. You dragged me from my room to your office and subjected me to Morrigan's imprisonment. The whippings, every punch, I felt along my flesh as if I was there. You fucked with the temperature of my bedroom. Freezing cold with nothing to keep me warm but the sound of Morrigan's screams all night long as company. I couldn't sleep with that sound ringing in my ears. If I ever broke free from that room, I swore I would have hunted you down and separated your head from your body. Without question."

Chandler perceived himself as an overall friendly extrovert who could be bothered offering kindness to anyone that didn't deny his hand of friendship. He was the life of the party and welcomed the adoration, which made his interests of theater in his high school days reasonable. A temper tantrum and revealing the wrath wasn't synonymous with Chandler's personality, but as guarded as he is with emotions, he experienced them ten times stronger than most. "You were a suffocating presence in my life, Douglas. There was this," His hand hovered to the side of his temple, indicating his head, "This noise I couldn't silence. Your voice and her screaming repeating over and over like that fucking recording. I wanted to die. Believe me, those thoughts crossed my mind while I laid there in my bed. Shivering one night and sweating the next." The man's expression grew somber for a flicker and then drained completely of anything. "I was taunted by the pair of scissors in my desk drawer. The letter opener on my desk Dezzie gave me for my sixteenth birthday, it'd be that easy ending my suffering and spiting you in the process."

Another unspoken secret not even his psuedo sister knew and had she, it would break her heart surely. "I fought for Morrigan to stay alive, so I bided my time obediently. I knew the moment that diploma landed in my hand, I was gone. Away from Hedgestone, away from my responsibilities, from you. Running was the only option I had. Still...you didn't break me how you wanted." It sounded falsely confident and certainly, the sake of his self-esteem depended on faking until he could make it, and providing Douglas the gratification wouldn't ever materialize. "Then I arrive home to hear you and Dezzie perished in a car bombing. While my brother's death caused ripples of mourning in the community, yours was met with no deserving fanfare. As they say, the kingdoms never weep when the villain falls."

Chandler dropped to one knee beside the bag and unzipped it, removing the only object contained within and rising to a standing position. The brand new sledgehammer he purchased for this specific visit came highly recommended by the hardware store he purchased it from. The clerk clearly knew who he was the moment Chandy strutted through the door and was right forgoing asking questions as to why a Urie elite required the piece of equipment. "No one lights a candle to remember you, Douglas. No one prays while your corpse rots, certainly not me." Chandler gripped the handle and inspected the metal piece attached to the top thoroughly, "I want you to know the punchline. That boy you mutilated and tossed in the river like garbage, the name you thought you beat from your daughter, wasn't the one Morrigan was seeing. His name's Julian Reese."

Chandler raised the sledgehammer over his shoulder, uttering the small sweet victory, "You lose." The mallet's first forward swing landed right in the middle of the epitaph, poetically making contact on Douglas' name. The satisfaction instantly shot down his spine and slowly traveled from limb to limb. A euphoric experience exploding from pent up aggression and placing feelings underneath the floorboards. He lifted the hammer and struck the stone again with a forceful grunt, sending substantial sizes of rock flying every which way. It was a miracle he wasn't hit by anything, but he didn't stop there. Watching Julian take out his rage on a batting cage sparked the idea and he wasn't pulling his shots with losing complete control like the other did. While Julian feared the strength of his anger, Chandy thrived on his. The hammer created contact several times, enlarging the cracks along the surface.

The pedestal in which the tombstone sat on finally gave way with Chandler taking a small step backwards as the remaining pieces collapsed in on itself and sent the angel toppling to the grass, shattering in two pathetic slivers. There is a certain beauty when destruction happens, chaos St. Cascadia brings out in its citizens. That even the most civilized man like him could become monstrous when facing a tormentor. If Chandler cannot kill Douglas, he would erase the last piece of the Urie patriarch's identity. "No one will remember you now, bitch." Shooting a middle finger at what was left of the gravestone, Chandy stuffed the sledgehammer back inside the duffle and looped his arm through the straps.

As Chandler moved away from the ruins after a long minute staring at what he created, he stopped at another gravestone that wouldn't suffer the same fate by a million years. "Hi, Dezzie. Don't mind the mess beside you. Though, if we're being a hundred percent honest, you were always a witness to mine. This is one I don't want you cleaning." The wrath previously dissipated and melancholy formed in its place. A heavy heart. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for the funeral. You'd want me not blaming myself, but the second I leave, I lost you. I was supposed to be at your side and I wasn't, Dez. I was supposed to protect you and I couldn't because of my cowardice. We needed you." Chandler did his best pushing back the tears no matter how they stung. "I still need you." The sentence hung in the air. "But I'll protect her like we've always done and I will spend every day making you proud. I promise." He reached out a hand and placed it on top of the stone.

"I love you, big brother."

And somehow by design, Chandler almost sensed Desmond saying it back.

#self para: no requiem #tw for the pain and agony and all around ouchie

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chandlerxfitzgerald · 2 years ago

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Dead Man Walking // self para

The day began like any other for a normal Saturday, Chandler spent the morning putting together his ensemble he planned to wear when he went out later that evening on a casual date. Homework sat untouched until he would cram the following Sunday and the plan was to skip the droll business meeting that was a tradition for the next morning. Morrigan needed her own school work to focus on, so he thought it best giving her the space and not play the distraction. He knew where she would be at all times, in her home, either on her bed or at her desk, proving herself the academic scholar even if that was never enough for some people in this house.

Chandler knew the moment he heard the ear-splitting bellows of his adopted father, he would never make it to the date. He'd been flipping through the script of that drama season's production of Cabaret when the house seemed to shake with blazing wrath sending an imaginary explosion down every hallway and room. The screaming did not come from Douglas's office, it didn't seep from downstairs where the Urie patriarch lost his temper on the housekeepers, no, there was one place and one place only it could have originated and it is a bedroom he knew like the back of his hand. Morrigan.

He had immediately bolted from his seat and planned on jumping to her rescue, but Douglas was aware what action his adopted son would take the minute the yelling started. Chandler tried the door, turning the handle every which way, and finding someone secured the lock from the other side. "No, no, no, no...." The panic in his voice rose as he continued wiggling the knob with more urgency. "Morrigan!" Chandler began banging the palm of his hand against the hard wood, hoping and praying by some miracle she would hear him calling for her, as if Douglas magically decided against what he planned on doing to his daughter just because Chandler begged.

As much as Chandler persisted, the door wouldn't budge. Some time passed, minutes, hours, who knew how long, but he stopped fighting for an escape before he finally heard the click again. It's ridiculous allowing his imagination run wild briefly, that the shouts and struggling from the other side were fever hallucinations brought forth by long practices and surviving on energy beverages. That as soon as the door would swing open, he would see Morrigan Urie with the rare smile on her face only the male had a knack for giving her. Instead, much to his disappointment, there stood a Urie crony. Chandler didn't remember his name, hardly mattered, but he cannot forget the man's death grip.

Chandler was more or less dragged from his room with every profanity spilling from his lips the entire way and forced in the direction of Douglas' office. They passed Morrigan's empty room, sending an icy suspicion through the young teenager on where she ended up and erasing the fear from his mind, before the pair reached the office. His captor unceremoniously shoved him inside the pitch black room and slammed the door behind him, not wasting the time watching Chandler almost struggling with regaining his footing. "You piece of shit!" Chandy rammed a fist against the oak door in frustration and turned around, expecting Douglas to be sitting in his chair at the carved desk.

The first thing Chandler noticed set on the desk itself was an open laptop. The only illuminating light, the focal point. A browser window covered the screen, whatever had been pulled up appeared bad quality, and it became clear that was due to the lighting within what the camera pointed at. This windowless room, the concrete walls, the minimal furniture. The location did not click for Chandler until he made the journey across the office and planted his feet in front of the computer. This, this was live security feed. The dungeon, a prison with an intended purpose for those who angered Douglas. And there, huddled on the dingy bed sleeping was... "Momo." That's it. Their father knew. How much is a guessing game, but judging by the fact she was locked away, he wanted a name. Chandler desperately needed to speak with her, find a solution to even pass a secret message to Desmond, who always knew how to solve their problems when they needed him.

"Oh, Morri..." He uttered in a hushed whisper. Chandler barely processed the state his best friend was in before the video showed Douglas unlock the door and entered the room with an imposing stance that reeked the threat of consequences. One word came through the audio, name, something Morri wouldn't ever provide for the safety of that boy. The lovesick boy, his sister's joy source from the moment they met. Chandler prayed their father would relent and leave to try another day when she didn't give him what he wanted, but he knew the next stage in Douglas' playbook.

His gaze followed every step the man took toward the cabinet and remove the whip, nausea and horror already mixing inside the teenager's stomach for what was about to happen. He didn't want to watch, he couldn't, not as Morrigan kneeled at her father's feet. Chandler needed to scream at her never to do such a thing and grant the asshole any satisfaction submitting, but what was she to do but take the punishment? "No...no, god, please-" The first whip crack sliced through the air with a deafening snap and mixed with Morri's agonizing screams, forcing his own from his lips as if either of them could hear it. "Stop it! Just stop it!"

Whip after whip, countless and each as brutal as the next, sliced through Morrigan's flesh and sent flecks of her blood coating both the whip and Douglas' emotionless features. After the last strike finally came to pass, Chandler couldn't bear watching any longer. By the time Douglas was refused the name and finally left the room, it clicked in his mind why that monster wanted him to play witness. Punishment for his involvement in the cover-up. Sooner or later, Douglas would demand a name from him too but not before he broke first.

The footage showed the dungeon door opening again, revealing not the old man, but Dezzie. This unkempt version of him is something Chandy wasn't accustomed to seeing. He looked exhausted, sporting a broken nose courtesy of Douglas, and his own punishment the Fitzgerald boy was not envious of. Cleaning the mess and seeing Morrigan's state with his own two eyes. He watched his brother mournfully, but that slightly changed when he noticed something. A small movement of a foot, Desmond lingering by the table, filling Chandler with a hopeful spark. But it wouldn't last.

It was nightfall before the same witless goon retrieved him again, leading the boy back to be confined in a bedroom that did not look the same as when he left it. Somebody took the time to stripe the blankets and pillow case from his bed, every article of clothing was missing from his wardrobe, and the temperature. It was like stepping into an ice box in the middle of Antarctica. No coat or covers in sight, he would be forced to sleep in the frigid cold. Chandler wrapped his arms tightly around himself and climbed on his bed, huddling in the hopes he could conserve heat and fighting to erase the images of his best friend, his sister's torment, from his mind.

But Douglas Urie wasn't about to allow him peace for that is when the true horror of his punishment began. Her screams suddenly blasted throughout his room and diminished what little silence remained. Blaring, loud, the same screams from Morrigan's whipping coming through the speaker of his intercom by the doorway. That fucker, that heartless abomination had recorded his little torture session with his daughter and subjected his adopted son in a reminder that her agony was his fault. Chandler pressed the palms of his hands to his ears, squeezing his eyes tightly, and releasing a yell of anguish. He prayed to any god it would end with however many minutes Douglas spent flogging her, but no....it was played on a continuous loop. All night long.

He didn't sleep a wink.

Chandler lost his will to fight against the goon that dragged him from his room the next morning and once again haphazardly tossed him into Douglas' awaiting office. And there was the laptop, sporting a new feed as Douglas made his grand entrance through the basement's door. The teen dragged himself over where the device sat, shooting his father a glare of pure hatred as the burner phone had been tossed in Morrigan's direction. "Don't do it, Mor. Don't let him get in your head like this." He shook his head slowly, watching the interaction on bated breath. Her sobbing cut through him like a dagger and sliced the male to his deepest core.

What happened next was a blur. Morrigan lunging forward for a knife, screams flying past her lips, in a despairing attempt to cause mortal wounds to her father. Chandler couldn't deny any celebration if she succeeded in killing him, but there are no happy endings for people like them. He released a cry of her name as his hands reached for the laptop, gripping the screen tightly and willing Morri's courage to defeat a villain. But stories prove time and again that villains sometimes win against the good. Chandler's hand flew to his mouth to stifle his cries, growing louder with each punch Morrigan was administered.

It seemed Morrigan had enough. Chandler sunk to the floor laptop still in hand, utilizing the desk's side to lean against exhaustingly. He couldn't do this anymore, he couldn't watch her suffer until she succumbed. A flicker of consideration washed over the young man, just save face and save his sister by giving up Julian. Provide Douglas the name and this would all be over. Before the thought disappeared as he knew it would, Morri beat him to the punch. His gaze flickered over her features in stunned silence. She gave a name, alright, but it wasn't Julian's. His best friend just condemned another to die for the man she loved.

Chandler sat there on the floor until somebody was sent again to bring him back to his room. He anticipated the bedroom's interior to remain changed again, but nothing was different. Instead of the freezing atmosphere, Douglas turned up the heat. Hotter than a sauna, hotter than a desert, it was sweltering. No one could last remaining in this place without going insane. Chandy wiped a hand across his forehead and watched as it came back covered in sweat. "I want you to die..." He breathed out, lifting his head and shouting to the heavens as he screamed his next statement, "Do you hear that, you prejudiced fucker? I want you to fucking die!" His legs suddenly gave out from under him, emotion overtaking Chandler for the first time. The tears, the suffering, the overwhelming pain, he just couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't be the strong one. But what choice did he have?

Chandler knew what needed to be done. For Morrigan and for Julian.

The day Morrigan returned from her coma, Douglas finally released Chandler from the confines of his room. The temperature was dropped to his normal degrees and he was given a small window to visit the girl. He stayed by her side, holding her hand, and feeling completely numb. A silent agreement between siblings was reached that in order to keep the secret and keep Julian safe, the relationship had to end.

Julian cornered him a week later after he returned to school, catching Chandler in the hallway before first period.

"Chandler!" He watched Julian dodged other students as he squeezed through the crowd before catching up to Chandler. "What the hell happened? I sent you and Morrigan a bunch of messages and you both just went radio silent." Julian adjusted the strap of his bag and sighed. "I'm getting worried. What's going on?"

"I'm afraid I'll be the one to tell you this, but the relationship's over, Julian." Chandler knew that wouldn't be much of a reason however brief it was, but the energy to care was no longer present. He was tired and felt himself cracking at the seams.

"What? No, no. no, you can't just say it's over when I should be hearing this from her." Julian stepped forward with confusion and hurt tainting his vocal tone. How was he expected to understand throwing aside over a year's worth of a relationship and it wasn't even coming from Morri? None of this was even remotely right. "You owe me an explanation."

Something snapped inside of Chandler that he hasn't ever encountered before: pure rage. He whipped around on his heel and stalked over to the man he spent too many days protecting for his sister, his tone slightly raising a pitch. "I owe you nothing." A few students walking past the pair gave them a weary glance, but he honestly could throw them two shits anymore. He was done playing nice, he can't be right now. If he wanted Julian gone, safe, Chandler had to hit where it stung most. "Okay, fine, you want an explanation? The only reason Morrigan breathed in your direction and wasted her time sleeping around with you was because she needed the distraction. Our father's shitty, she wanted something fun to do, and she was bored. She, Desmond, and myself thought it would be enjoyable entertainment wrapping around a pretty guy naïve enough to have his head filled with the notion of true love." Chandler stepped closer, heart sinking as Julian's expression swept nothing but devastation. "You're nothing, Julian. You aren't like us. You, dove, are as stupid as you are handsome: in abundance on both counts."

"Chandler," Julian whispered quietly, knowing what the other was trying to do and still believing it anyway. "Don't do this..."

"You're hopelessly oblivious, dove, truly gullible to think she actually loved you." Chandler nodded once in resolution, releasing a scoff as his gaze swept the other, "Forget about us, Julian. Forget me, forget Dezzie, forget Morrigan. Move on with your miserable life and find another girl who doesn't gag each moment she is forced to spend in your pathetic presence."

Chandler immediately turned around and walked away at a fast pace before Julian could offer a response, hearing the man repeatedly call his name and ignoring the pleas. A Urie does not relent in the face of begging, not even from his best friend's now ex boyfriend. Erasing Julian from their lives was the best option, it was as if he actually was dead.

As he continued down the hallway with nothing painted along his usual playful features, that poor Brian Edwards wasn't the only man sentenced to death. Douglas killed Chandler Fitzgerald, broke him, molded him until he created the embodiment of a dead man walking. If he was going to hell, then he would take Douglas down with him.

Chandler couldn't stay. As soon as he graduated, he was leaving for good and never coming back.

#self para: dead man walking #crooooooes #tw for pain and agony

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