#tgad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whumpsterfire · 3 years

Text

The Guardian Angel‘s Doll - Part 1

cw: hypothermia, broken bones, non-consensual touch (not sexual)

3669 words

“You’ll grow used to it.”

Efrem hasn’t. In fact, not only do they not want to get used to anything in their captivity, they simply have not had enough time to adjust. They’ve had, what. A few days? They can’t tell. It’s difficult to tell time in this weird room they’re a captive in now, apparently.

So first of all. There’s no windows. Efrem can’t look outside to see the sun and they have no way of telling the time of the day. It’s always as bright, too. Or more like... it’s always as dim. There’s no real light, it seems like. Still, Efrem can see perfectly within their small little room.

Their new home, as Zey had so helpfully told Efrem. Not that they have any intention of staying here.

Or well. They aren't going to stay here, that is for sure. But even then...

There is no windows and...

There is no door. Not all the time, at least. The door seems to appear and disappear according to need. Though if Zey truly is a spirit, why does he need a door in the first place? There only seems to be one when he’s using it.

And most of the time Zey isn’t using the door. As for these few days Efrem has been in this room, Zey hasn’t... visited them much. They’ve banged at the walls. They screamed their voice hoarse at some point – their throat still hurt from that. They tried to reason to the walls, hoping Zey would hear them.

They told him they were cold and Zey promised they’ll just get used to it.

Well, Efrem hasn’t. They very much don’t want to, either. Get used to it? They could see their own fucking breath. They were hungry and cold and they were trapped in some fucking insane person’s - Efrem doesn’t know, this could be some kind of a weird basement for all they know.

They don’t know. They’ve thought and thought and thought about it and at this point they’re ready to believe they’ve been abducted by a spirit being to who the fuck knows where.

At first they thought about the mundane – their plants, who is going to water their plants? Or fuck, who’s gonna take care of their snails? Okay, to be fair, they’d probably survive for a while without eating at least. But that doesn’t mean they’d be okay without Efrem taking care of them!

What would Kieron think of their disappearance? They never just disappeared without notice. They talked with Kieron daily, had for years now. Fuck, he’s probably worried senseless at this point!

Efrem doesn’t stop thinking about that stuff – about who takes care of their house, their studies, their comic that’s going to go dormant, their siblings, Kieron... No, they just fall to the background. As it turns out, Efrem has more pressing issues bothering them.

Well first, there is the hunger. Efrem can’t be certain of how long they’re been here and they haven’t eaten anything for the entire time. Actually, they haven’t even had anything to drink. They’re already starting to feel weak, dizzy with how their stomach grumbled and head hurting from the lack of food and hydration. Second, the temperature is starting to be a real issue.

Efrem doesn’t know if it’s actively dropping. They don’t think it was this cold when they arrived, but they can’t be sure. They were disoriented that first day, barely present. It doesn’t matter, anyway. What matters is that it’s cold and Efrem is pretty sure that the lack of warmth is starting to pose them a real threat.

First Efrem tried walking around to keep warm. There’s the bed – they took the blanket off it, wearing it over their body and walked around the small room. As it had turned out, walking around with nothing to feed them lead to Efrem getting exhausted way too fast.

So now they’re just on the bed, tucked under the soft blanket. Yesterday, Efrem actually felt like it did help. Now, they’re cold again. Maybe the temperature really is dropping. The cold seems to penetrate under the blanket, getting to Efrem’s skin through the fabric of it and Efrem’s clothes. They curl to themself, trying to keep warm, but it’s hardly any use. No matter what Efrem tries, it’s cold.

It’s really, really cold.

Efrem is actually shivering. Their stomach grumbles and they groan, lips trembling. This is the fucking worst, they decide. This fucking – spirit thing – captures them, takes them to this weird room without food – or a bathroom, for that matter – and there’s no heating! Does the spirit maybe not know that humans need warmth to survive? They have to, right?

Wait, Efrem isn’t in danger. They’re going to survive this, they know as much. It’s stupid to start thinking about surviving and not surviving. Their jaw clenches as they grit their teeth together to stop them from clacking against each other. Fuck, they’re shaking. Thinking is starting to become hard – there's a very prominent sense of dull fear somewhere in Efrem’s gut and it grows with every passing moment.

Or maybe that’s the hunger. It’s difficult to tell, at this point.

Fuck. Their skin is cold, even under the pretty-thick blanket. How can it be this cold in here? Where is ‘here’, anyway? Efrem can’t think about that now. Their fingers are starting to feel numb. So are their toes. This can’t be safe in any way – they're going to get frostbites if this keeps up! Actually, with every winter, there’s those warnings to keep your ankles covered and your gloves on to prevent damage from the cold. Efrem is sufficiently covered but they’re still cold! That can’t be good! What if they get a frostbite and it evolves into a necrosis? What if parts of their body need to be cut off?

What if...

What if Zey just leaves them here, like this, and they’ll freeze to death?

Efrem can’t feel their toes or their fingers. Holy shit this isn’t good. They can’t just—they can’t just lie here and wait for—what? Zey to come back so they can plead them to make it not be so cold? For someone to save them? For some magical exit to appear so Efrem can escape? Their breathing gets shallow and Efrem can hear the rapid beats of their own heart in their ears. In the empty, doorless room, it’s the only thing they can hear.

They can’t-- they can’t take this. Efrem has to try something. They get out of the bed, body sluggish. They keep the blanket wrapped around their body, trying to trap any existing warmth around their body. Their limbs feel heavy and they move stiffly – it's difficult to even hold the blanket with how rigid Efrem’s fingers are. They curse weakly under their breath. They drag their body to the wall where a door sometimes sits, but doesn’t now. They press their palms against the wall. There had to be some kind of trick, some kind of mechanism. Efrem just needs to figure this out. The wall is cold against Efrem’s palms, even with the blanket between their skin and the wall.

Not that Efrem hasn’t tried any of this before, but they have to make sure they’ve tried everything. So they press against the wall, trying to find any seams or... they don’t know, anything. They press at the wall and... nothing happens. Efrem looks at the wall and they see nothing and all they can think about is how fucking cold it is, how it’s starting to hurt and they can’t even feel their fucking limbs, that they’re going to die here like this in this room, captive of some being beyond their understanding and without ever telling Kieron that Efrem--

Efrem knocks on the wall. The sound isn’t even hollow in their ears –what does that mean? There must be something behind the wall, like a hallway? Some other room? Anything?

“Hello?” Efrem knocks. The sound is just as hollow as it has been every other time they’ve knocked. The cold is painful – they can feel it prickle at their muscles like needles, numb their skin with a stabbing pain. They can’t feel the contact of the knock on the wall on their skin, only in their bones.

They must be knocking harder than they had realized. They keep knocking, their body aching with how cold penetrates them.

“Hello!” Efrem’s voice is louder – the moment they’ve spoken, they’re unsure if they have. How can they know, when there’s nothing that changes with their words? No one to hear them?

Fuck, they’re gonna freeze here. They’re going to die, alone and cold and Kieron will never know, he’ll never know how much Efrem—fuck, they can’t let themself think about it. They knock on the door.

“Hello!”

Knock.

“Someone!”

Knock. Efrem’s breath puffs out in a thick fog as they talk.

“Someone, it’s--!”

Knock.

“Freezing in here!”

Knock!

“J-Just help me--!”

Knock. Efrem’s teeth clatter violently in the cold, body shaking and every inch of their skin screaming with pain. They’re not going to be able to take this.

“Zey!”

Bang.

Efrem doesn’t know how long they spend time banging against that wall, screaming. They know that at some point, their throat start hurting too much to speak. Their voice is starting to sound weird. Their starting to feel almost hot with how cold it is – or did the temperature go up? That can’t be right; Efrem still can’t feel their limbs properly.

They’re weak, too weak. They slam their fists against the wall and they can’t stay up anymore – body robbed from its strength by their hunger and freezing body. Efrem can’t even tell when they stop. They don’t think they ever did, at least intentionally, do so. One moment they’re screaming and beating the wall up like it had personally mauled their favourite teacher, the next moment they’re wrapped in their blanket in an impotent attempt to trap any warmth to their body, slumped against the wall.

It’s cold. So fucking cold. Efrem doesn’t cry, not usually. They figure the hot tears, lazily falling to their cheeks, is the sign of their body and mind finally giving out.

They are going to die and their body knows it.

Efrem’s breaths are short and shaky. Their body shakes violently against the wall and their jaw hurts from keeping it clenched so hard.

So this... is it. This probably is it. Efrem can’t let go of their thought of despair of dying alone like this, without anyone knowing where they are. Without Kieron knowing what really happened to them.

Maybe—just maybe, this all could still be just a bad dream.

Efrem’s body shakes violently with a dry sob.

“You are at your limit, Efrem.”

He almost thinks he imagines it. If Efrem was in a better state of mind, he’d question the heavy sense of relief he feels upon hearing that smooth, cool voice. They’re not able to answer the voice – their teeth are clattering too harshly for that. Efrem doesn’t even dare to come out of their blanket, still wrapped around them, to face the thing talking to them.

“You poor little thing.”

Efrem doesn’t fight when their body is picked up – more like, they can’t fight. They’re too cold, too thirsty, too hungry. There’s something comforting in being held, underneath the unease that crawls on Efrem’s skin.

They’re still cold. They’re still cold but now--

There’s hope.

For a moment, the roll of blanket that contains Efrem is held against Zey’s chest. There is no warmth – Efrem trembles in the cold against the body that holds them. Efrem is dropped back on their bed – not their bed, just a bed, the bed – and they feel a weight settle besides them on the mattress. Efrem pops their face outside of their blanket cocoon. Zey sits there, against the headboard. He looks at Efrem with a curious smile on his face. His eyes are glued to Efrem, their small, black pupils unsettling as ever. Efrem shivers and they don’t know if it’s the cold or just looking at Zey like this.

Could be both, really.

“Z-Z-Zey", Efrem says with difficulty. Their teeth are still clattering with the low temperature. “Cold”, they manage to spit out.

“It is, isn’t it.” Efrem watches Zey’s smile widen, exposing more sharp teeth as he does. Efrem feels sweat prickle on their skin.

Fuck, they’re terrified. Of dying. Of this creature that has them in its mercy.

“I think I kept it cold for too long last time. My previous pet didn’t take the cold well”, Zey talks. The words sound weirdly sharp in his mouth. Efrem doesn’t like—they don’t like listening to him talk. It doesn’t... it doesn’t sound right. Words don’t sound right when Zey speaks them. “She started acting weird.” Zey tilts his head. There’s a mild look of confusion on his face and something about it...

Something about it strikes fear deep in Efrem’s gut.

“She started taking off her clothes. She stopped moving. She lost her soul.”

Lost her soul? What the... what did he mean by that? And more than that--

Efrem is not the first. Efrem is not this- this creep’s first victim.

“I like the way they shiver, when it’s cold. Humans... react so beautifully to temperature.” Zey smiles at them again. Efrem can’t move. When those inhuman eyes look at them like that, they can’t move. What would they even say to any of what Zey’s saying? He’s... he’s barely making any sense! Efrem’s face feels weirdly warm outside of their blanket. Zey’s hand comes to play idly with Efrem’s dreadlocks.

Efrem jolts. They don’t want him to touch them. They don’t like him touching their hair and they don’t want Zey to touch them at all. Zey seems oblivious to Efrem’s distaste of his touch.

“But I don’t want to break you yet. I’ve waited for so long to have you here, after all.”

“H-Hey, what the f-f-fuck—are you t-talking about?”

“I liked watching you. I like having you in my room.”

He....

He has been watching them.

Watching Efrem shiver in the cold, thinking that they will die here, alone.

Efrem’s face feels hot with anger.

Oh fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him--

“Fuck you”, Efrem hisses before they can control themself. Rarely they feel like this – this kind of burning anger, scorching their insides, all-consuming.

It must be the cold that makes Efrem feel a little insane with every word Zey utters.

“What is wrong with you? Let me—let me out of this place”, they say through their teeth, almost able to quiet out the fear they feel when they look at Zey’s eyes. “I am not your, I’m not your fucking pet. I have a life, I have people waiting for me. I can’t stay here—I can’t die here, I can’t let you freeze me to death here, I have... I can’t stay here. I can’t. I won’t-- you can’t make me.” Efrem’s voice is little more than a whisper when they stop talking. Their throat still hurts from all the yelling they’ve done. They're looking at Zey – persuasive they hope, instead of pleading. They refuse to fucking plead anything from him.

“Stop-- Stop touching me!” They snap, swatting at Zey’s hand playing with a lock of their hair. Zey hardly reacts. He just looks at Efrem, his smile waning on his dark lips. The sight makes fear skip a beat in Efrem’s chest. They try again, softer. “Just... let me go home? No damage done. It’s been... fun”, they can’t stop themself from cringing as they say that word; nothing during these few days has been fun for them, “but I have to go home now.”

Zey just looks at them. He looks... almost displeased. A part of Efrem thinks good, whatever, not their fucking job to keep this nutjob pleased. Another part that still very much is linked to their survival instinct, thinks:

Shit. Did I overdo it?

Zey’s hand comes back to play with a lock of Efrem’s hair. They fight the urge to swat his hand away again. Efrem swallows with their dry, sore throat.

“I can’t stay here. I can’t live like this, Zey”, they try to get him to listen to them. “Humans can’t live like this. We need food, we need water! We need... enough warmth so we don’t freeze.”

Zey tilts his head.

“I’ve taken care of the temperature. I don’t want to lose you yet. I’ve waited long to have you here.”

He keeps saying that. Efrem is very fast starting to hate hearing it. Wait—taken care of the...?

Cautiously, Efrem lets themself feel the air. They... do feel warmer. They thought it was just the anger and frustration they felt towards the – thing that called itself Zey – but now, in a moment of clarity when the spirit isn’t messing with their head... they can feel it.

Yeah, the temperature has definitely gone up. Efrem is not cold anymore.

A sigh of relief escapes Efrem’s lips. They’re not going to die now. Not now, but...

Their stomach is so empty it has stopped growling. Their throat is dry and their head hurts with how thirsty they are.

Efrem grits their teeth. They’re not going to thank this thing keeping them here, even despite their first instinct telling them to.

Thank you. For what? For not letting them freeze to death in this weird, sick game he’s playing? Oh no. Efrem won’t thank him.

“Well. Humans need other things to survive too. I need water.” They say. They feel so... tired and powerless. There’s no strength in their voice, no bite in it. Efrem doesn’t want to stay here but they’re... they’re tired. They’re exhausted. They don’t want to exist for a brief moment; they just want to escape this moment, this body, this cage. Be anywhere else than here with this thing that’s captured them.

“I’m well versed with human needs.” Zey almost sounds amused when he talks. His eyes narrow too, in a manner that makes Efrem avert their eyes.

Efrem doesn’t like him looking at them like that.

“I know your limits, Efrem. Maybe better than you know yours.”

He keeps playing with their hair. Efrem wants to yell at him to stop.

“You have nothing to worry about, pet. I won’t let you break just yet.”

There it is, that word again. Pet. There’s nothing Efrem finds reassuring in anything Zey says. In fact, they feel more frustrated, scared, hopeless with every word he utters.

It’s only been what’s probably not more than a few days, but Efrem knows for sure.

They hate Zey. Probably, very likely, more than they have ever hated anyone.

Anything.

Efrem swats Zey’s hand away from their hair again.

“I told you to stop touching me.”

Zey chuckles. It’s a terrible sound – it’s like a wind-chime on a crisp autumn morning, except lower, deeper, lighter, and you don’t own a wind-chime nor is it a windy day.

“You are an amusing little thing, Efrem. I’ve always adored that about you.”

Adored.

He brings his hand to Efrem’s hair again. There’s a deep sense of irritation it stirs in Efrem – they reach to slap his hand away again, ready to repeat the process as many times as needed and—

Zey’s cool hand curls itself around Efrem’s wrist. There’s a cold sensation in the pit of Efrem’s stomach when Zey squeezes.

Hard.

Painfully.

Efrem’s eyes widen as they meet Zey’s. Zey’s expression... he doesn’t look happy. He looks at Efrem like a parent, annoyed at their child’s loud play.

“You are mine now, Efrem. I touch you as I please.”

Snap.

Efrem howls at the pain on their wrist. Their throat hurt but they don’t care – there’s an intense pain in their wrist and it radiates from that small point to their entire body. They twist in the blankets, Zey’s hand still squeezing around their wrist painful and unbearable.

This fucking psycho just broke their wrist.

“W- What—”

“Don’t make me hurt you, Efrem.” Zey’s voice is smooth and soft. He lets go of Efrem’s wrist and they don’t know what to do with it- moving it hurts too much, there’s tears welling in their eyes again. Fuck, they’ve really cried more here than they have in years, even if it’s just from the pain.

It’s hard to realize that this is actually happening. There’s a chant of what the fuck with the insistent, burning throb of pain in Efrem’s wrist.

Somewhere in their mind they’re happy about the car accident. So they’re not completely unfamiliar with this type of pain. Still, it isn’t anything they’d wanted to experience again!

This fucking hurts.

And Zey’s hand comes to Efrem’s hair again. He pets it, plays with their dreadlocks, twirls them around his fingers.

This time, Efrem lays still. They don’t reach out to swat his hand away.

They let him touch their hair, silently screaming in agony and shock of having had their wrist just broken.

Thoughts of water and food are lost to them. All Efrem can focus on is the pain and the desire of Zey stopping touching them.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like he’s planning to do so anytime soon.

Laying inside the blanket, Efrem is unable to stop Zey from doing that simple little thing of playing with their hair. They squeeze their eyes shut, hoping they were somewhere else.

Hoping this is a different room, a different hand playing with their locks.

Hoping when they open their eyes, it would be someone else they saw.

Efrem keeps their eyes shut. They let themself get lost in the fantasy, slowly detaching themself from what really seems to be their new reality.

It’s easy, in their exhausted and weakened state.

The hand doesn’t stop playing with their hair.

Efrem doesn’t stop keeping their eyes shut either.

#whump #Whumper #whump fic #original whump #original story #the guardian angel's doll #TGAD #fantasy whump #whump community #whump story

7 notes · View notes