#the a brief reprieve from the trauma of dislocation

[mumblelard]

​i imagine the kid who made this growing up in the fringes of the okefenokee dreaming of sharing tea with the queen

[ace-alex-art]

To Send A Message

-----Michael’s Part-----

I want to apologize in advance for what happens to Michael. But this isn’t the end! @itscecilpalmerbitches is working on their part, and there may or may not eventually be another part that takes place well after this and has fluff (or angst since I’m working on it too...fluffy angst?)

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An even steady slice. Moving from his temple down his cheekbone. An unwavering hand methodically dragging the hunting knife across the boy’s skin with ease. Practiced and confident. That scared Michael even more. These people were not simple robbers. No. They are too skilled, and the entire scene was too thought out for it to be a simple robbery of the station.  

He never showed up at the same time when he came to the station. Of course he was always there before Cecil, but the time frame for him to arrive ranged between minutes before the host to hours before anyone else. Michael felt safe at the station. Or, rather, safer. At home he risked his parents coming back early and hurting him. On the street or by the dog park he risked being attacked by the bullies. The station was not safe. There was a million things there that could hurt or even kill him, but he trusted the station more than the alternatives.

Except the one alternative that he felt the absolute safest at. The home of Cecil and Carlos. He’s stayed with them most nights of the week now. It was the one place in years that the abused kid has truly felt safe. They never hurt him, and the times that they did it was absolutely never intentional. The couple wanted the best for him. Ever since Cecil resuscitated him all those weeks ago. Ever since Cecil had given him the greatest gift he ever received. A koi fish keyring with two keys attached. One to the station. One to their house. And he would find solace and reprieve there. It was an escape from the terribleness of his home life.

But the safety and comfort he found in the radio station disappeared the moment a gun was pressed against the back of his neck. He could’ve sworn he locked that station door after he arrived, but maybe he didn’t? Or maybe he did and the robbers picked or broke the lock? It didn’t matter now. All that mattered was obeying and surviving this horrible nightmare. He prayed that Cecil would be safe. He wanted the lanky man to come and save him and keep him safe. But more so he wanted him to not arrived until the robbers were gone. Until the station was empty except for himself. He didn’t want Cecil getting hurt. He absolutely did not want the radio host to go through this living nightmare.

And now there Michael stands. In the middle of Cecil’s booth. The two robbers in the room with him. He couldn’t see anything distinguishing besides their eyes. It was the only part of them that was visible. Hats and hoods covered the top of their heads, and bandanas or the like covered the rest of their faces. Leaving only their eyes to forever burn into Michael’s memory. The woman held a gun, and she looked like the leader. She was the one who threatened him when he was fixing the coffee pot. She was the one who kept emotions completely out of the equation of this entire situation. The man held the knife. It was around a foot long and certainly used for hunting. Michael had seem similar ones in an old foster home where the father would hunt elk every other weekend. It was extremely sharp and now had the boy’s blood adorning it.

“Such a pretty color. Red. The color of passion…”

“Of anger.” The woman growls as she rummaged through Michael’s abandoned backpack. Tossing the school papers and keyring aside as she shook the bag. He had nothing that they would want. The most valuable thing in his bag was the keys, but they were worthless to everyone but him.

“Of love, which you certainly don’t deserve.” An unseen smirk crossed the man’s face. “Why don’t we paint a picture? A mask to hide the true ugliness of you. And to send a message.”

Michael trembles as the black clad man steps closer, but he doesn’t move as he grows nearer. The blood running down his cheek served as a reminder. Try to escape or sound an alarm, and you will be punished. You will not see your radio host or scientist again. But they will certainly see a gory mess of what remains of you.

He’s not sure how he ended up on the floor. Everything happened too fast. But what he knew now was he would be in immense pain by the time this “robbery” was over. Their boots were steel toed, and the man’s leg was pulling back before he swung it forward. Crack! Michael screamed. His only recently healed ribs were breaking again with every kick to his torso. Each and every breath felt like he was swallowing fire. Michael started tasting copper as the boot continued to connect with his abdomen and chest.

After having enough fun shattering the boy’s rib cage and thoroughly bruising his internal organs, the man changed his aim. His boot slams into Michael’s head. Blood bursts from the kid’s nose as it breaks. The skin around Michael’s eye is a bright red. By the end of the night it will be completely swollen and bruised. A nice black eye to pair with the opposite side of his face where the knife cut him. One more kick to his head bloodies the previously untouched temple of Michael’s head. The same side with the eventual black eye. The boy couldn’t see himself, but the white of his eye was turning red from the trauma. The kicks broke blood vessels within the eye. Tide pods stained with blood.

Michael lost consciousness for sometime after the last kick to his head. His vision was spinning, and he felt completely sick. The room was suddenly blinding, and the taste of pennies made him even more nauseous. But hands are on him suddenly, and he can’t fight back as he’s forced to a sitting position. The room was completely wrecked, and Michael couldn’t imagine how the rest of the station looked. Someone is pulling his arms behind him, and he doesn’t even try to stop it from happening. He can’t fully remember the last few minutes, but he remembers the threat of what would happen to him if he didn’t obey orders.

Michael can’t help the scream that is ripped from him when the woman yanks his arm back even more. He wasn’t resisting, but she apparently thought otherwise. She makes the man tightly tie the rope around Michael’s wrists. His shoulder made a horrible pop when she pulled it farther back. The rope digs into the boy’s pale skin and is so tight that his arms hardly relax at all. Satisfied with the boy’s arms securely bound behind him, the woman demands that her partner also bound his ankles.

The man moves in front of the crying and bleeding kid as he begins to wrap rope around his ankles. For only a brief moment Michael can see what might be described as sympathy or remorse in his eyes, but it vanishes as the man quickly looks back at his work. Michael isn’t sure if he imagined the look, but regardless the eyes of both robbers will forever be burned into his mind.

With him now bound and unable to escape on his own, the lady caresses the side of his face. Feign gentleness and kindness. It made Michael flinch and cry out again as his dislocated shoulder moved. A harsh slap. Then something is shoved into his mouth. A fabric of sorts. And then duct tape. Layers upon layers are roughly plastered over his mouth. He can’t move nor make a sound.

“Throw her into the closet.”

The man stands and moves to his side. Michael’s eyes widen, and his shaking worsen. He doesn’t use the same fake kindness as he roughly grabs the underweight boy and lifts him. Michael cries are muffled from his gag, but tears run down his face at the pain and terror and cut trails through the blood on his face. The man forces him into the closet and drops him there.

“Behave now, Little Fish. Or we will be back.”

The closet door slams shut and is blocked from the outside, leaving Michael bound and bleeding alone in the dark.

[mumblelard]

just kidding around or my very favorite mug josh