Stockholm, 1973 3a/?
Nov. 10th, 2010 10:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
soncnicaAuthor: soncnica
Rating: I'll go with 'R'
Genre/pairing: Jared, Jensen (no pairing), AU
Characters: Jared, Jensen
Word count: cca. 2.326 this chapter
Summary: Jared is a serial killer. Jensen is his next victim. If your google-fu is awesome, googling the title of this fic will give you an idea how this fic will end.
Warnings: Well Jared is a serial killer with a desire to see and make people bleed so... warnings? Dark!fic, knives, blood, drugs, kinda psycho Jared, no disfiguration for Jensen or anything like that. And NO CHARACTER DEATH...
Disclaimer: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is not mine! NOT MINE!
A/N: My notes can be found in the story.
A/N: Heh, this story is coming out brighter then I imagined it would be. For those of you who are scared for Jensen... there's no need, really. He'll be fine. Trust me. I have the story all writen out already and seriously... I surprised myself, because I wanted to write a dark!fic, but what came out was... well... something I didn't expect! Uh... stupid mind! So yeah... those of you who are afraid for Jensen, don't be... he'll be just fine. :)
AND PLEASE READ CHAPTER 3b OF THIS STORY... to find out more about Jared. Thank you!
He was floating somewhere between darkness and light, pain and comfort. Just a boneless body in the sea of nothingness.
And then he opened his eyes and drew in a breath that rattled his bones.
He couldn't see anything for a moment, too lost in the world he had been in for so long, but then his eyes adjusted to the silver light in the room and he could see… not much really. Just a ceiling. Way up high.
He groaned and clutched at his head, the marching band playing in there not listening to his pleas of stop it, fuck.
He felt … sick. Oh so sick. His stomach was protesting at every movement he made even if it was just moving his hands.
"Whah?"
It was a normal thing to say… really it was… to say something to all that was surrounding him.
To all that silence and silver light.
But nothing responded. Nothing said anything back to him.
And then.
Then it all came back to him.
-:-:-
Shit.
Fuck.
Run!
He quickly slid off the table, his sock clad feet hitting the cold concrete floor and rose up to full height, stumbling when he took his first few steps.
His stomach rolled.
Whoah.
His eyes were blurry, t'was like looking at the world from under water.
He wiped at his eyes, getting rid of the murkiness.
One step.
He could see now how the room was illuminated; by the moonlight coming through some large windows way up the walls.
Next step.
There were some boxes on the floor and stumbling his toe on one of them: "Son of a bitch!" made him see stars for a moment. Pain in his head collided with the pain in his toe and his stomach rolled.
Uh… fuck.
Next step.
The room started to rotate; going a little up, a little down, and a whole lot to the left.
He pressed his right hand to his stomach, rubbing it over his belly, trying to placate his muscles into not squeezing his insides into a bloody pulp.
He was gonna throw up.
Oh fuck.
He put his left hand on some counter nearby; making some paper that was nearly dust now fall onto the floor, scattering everywhere, bend forward and rested his sweaty forehead on his forearm, letting the cold skin there cool down his warm forehead.
He breathed.
Gotta get out of here. Out. Out. Out.
Where's the way out? Where's the fuckin' way out?
He raised his head from his arm and looked around; the image of the room swaying and swimming around him.
Oh fuck, shit, damn.
-:-:-
Moonlight showed him how huge the room was; some sort of an office or something. A very big office.
He couldn't tell to be honest. Everything was blurry and his head was killing him.
Was I drinking?
Was I…
Beer… I had beer.
Could still taste it in his mouth when he swallowed.
-:-:-
High walls were supporting a ceiling full of lights; big, small, long and short. Fluorescent lights that probably brightened up this vast space many years ago; made it look less sinister.
He could see, even in the almost darkness – that wherever he was, whatever this place was… was abandoned.
Had been for years.
And he couldn't see a way out. Just another wall to his left, some more boxes to his right, and ah there they were… a door.
-:-:-
He groaned when he got up to his feet again, unbending himself and circling his hand over his stomach one last time, grimacing a little at the pressure of everything he ate and drank in the last day starting to push and turn and twist inside of him.
Uhgh…
He rounded the table – the one who was his bed for God knows how long – supporting his heavy body with a hand on the smooth wooden surface and opened the door. It wasn't locked or hard to open, didn't make a sound and didn't disturb any dust.
He took a peek through the open door, looked left and right, like he was trying to cross a street and decided to go left. Down the corridor lined with doors.
Doors everywhere. Doors that were locked tight when he tried the handle… he just couldn't find the strength to kick them down and tear the place apart trying to find a way out.
He just hurt. Hurt everywhere. Head, stomach, knee, toe, his eyes were burning him and his mouth was dry.
-:-:-
The hallway soon ended in a huge hall. Probably a production hall of some sort; producing what, he couldn't tell.
All he could see was how huge it was.
Walls that were endless in their height, windows taller then tall, but dirty; sand and rain and time made them brown and sightless.
His stomach rolled.
"Gugh…"
He couldn't… walk, and running… running would make him collapse as soon as he'd make three steps.
All he could do was stumble and pray not to fall on his face and pass out while he made his way to the nearest wall to work his way up to the nearest door.
It smelled of rust. Smelled of gas and sweat and dust.
He gagged; barely suppressed the need to throw up everything he ever ate in his life.
And he needed to piss.
So badly, he thought his bladder was gonna explode.
All that beer…
Fuck.
But he needed to get out of there. He needed to fuckin' run. Needed to go and hide. Needed to fuckin' not kid around here.
-:-:-
He walked; slowly. Couldn't go fast with all the moving the room was doing.
He kept his left hand, palm down on the wall all the time, chipping paint off of it and not giving a shit.
Just get out of here, man, before that psycho gets back.
He stumbled, hit his knee on a box he didn't see in the darkness and the moon was not helping him much; he found himself in a dead angle… the silver light couldn't reach there.
"Son of a bitch…" he whispered to himself. "Son of a bitch."
He had always had sensitive knees… they hurt like a bitch when the weather was showing rain. Hurt like fuckin' hell.
He placed his hand over his knee and tried to massage some relief into it.
Worked sometimes, but not always.
Not always.
-:-:-
He needed to go on, needed to fucking man up, clench his teeth and move.
The door was right there. Right there… normal, iron door with a small handle that he would just push down and push towards himself and he'd be free.
Just a few more steps.
His heart was wild in his chest; hitting his ribcage like a butterfly trying to escape his confine.
Freedom.
He could almost taste it, smell it, touch it.
Yes.
Fuck.
Yes.
Just a few more steps, run damn it.
Run.
"Jensen!"
His heart stopped beating. The pain in his knee hit him full force, but he didn't buckle. He stood his ground, stood high and proud.
But he couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't fuckin' feel the butterfly in his chest anymore.
He felt dead.
Nearly pissed his pants. Nearly threw up.
But he didn't.
He stood proud. Stood on his place, with his eyes on the door, with his eyes fixed on his freedom.
"Jensen, don't even think about it."
Jared's – that's the guy's name, right? – voice was deep, calm, not angry really… just kinda… soft even.
He closed his eyes. He could see freedom behind his closed eyelids. But even if… even if he could open that door, escape this… wherever this was… Jared would just chase after him and catch him too. No way, no way in Hell and beyond is he strong enough to outrun Jared.
But… he has to try. Has to know.
He made one step closer to the door with his eyes closed. Maybe, maybe that way, if Jared will shoot him or something, maybe he wouldn't be able to feel the pain so much.
"Jensen…" there was suppressed anger there, masked with the softness of the man's voice, "… you don't wanna play with me. I'm awesome with knives, man. I don't wanna hurt you…" there was an unspoken yet in there, "but I will throw this knife at you, hitting your spine and you will go down, alright? And you will stay down. You don't want that, do you? Hmm? You don't wanna test me."
Fuck yeah I wanna test ya, Jensen thought, but didn't move.
If all of this would have been happening to him four years ago, he'd move. He'd make that final step and wait for the hot pain to hit his back. He'd make that last step and be silent when the pain would hit and go down on his knees and hands and wait for Jared to finish him off.
But this wasn't happening four years ago. It was happening now. Now when he's stronger and better. Now when he wants to live, now when he's craving life.
So he couldn't move. Jared's words and his own desire to live were like glue keeping him in place. Fuckin' glue making him stand there like that… scared shitless. He knew… deep down he knew that if he takes one more step, if he decides to test Jared, he would go down. Go down for good probably and not just getting himself paralyzed.
Damn it!
What to do! What to fuckin' do?
Die here or wait for a while to see how Jared would kill him later?
What to do?
Maybe… maybe if he takes a step and Jared kills him, maybe, maybe that's his only way out. Or maybe if he stays where he is, maybe later on, he'll have a better chance of escaping.
He could feel cold desert air at his feet, coiling around him, pulling him towards the exit. Freedom.
He made a step forward. He didn't even know he did it, but the whoosh of air next to his ear and a knife handle sticking out from the door, iron door – the fuckin' strength to make that happen, or maybe the door wasn't iron at all - made him stop and his eyes widened.
Shit.
"Jensen, 'm not kidding here… a have another knife and trust me…" Jared sighed, "That knife… would cut your spinal cord and you'd go down and howl in pain. And then I'd twist it in ya, pulled up and down until you'd just… bleed away."
He wanted to live. Wanted life. And this… this won't give him that.
He watched the door and the knife still embedded in it and swallowed.
He's so screwed.
"Jensen."
He could hear so much in that one word even if it was said as a sigh. Jensen, don't make me do this. Jensen, come here. Jensen, I will use the knife if you make another step. Jensen, don't fuck with me. Jensen, don't piss me off. Jensen, don't fight me. Don't fight it.
"Jensen…"
The word was closer to him now, was almost breathed down his neck, was almost whispered in his ear… and then he felt that that was actually the case, because one of Jared's arms was sneaking around his waist and the other was god knows where.
He couldn't breathe. Couldn't freakin' move. Just stared at the door and the knife handle mocking him there.
And then he felt it. Something pressing softly to his lower back; between his vertebrae that could probably be seen through his T-shirt that was now soaked with sweat.
"It'd hit ya right here, ya know?"
The words were a breath of noise behind him, and he shivered. He was scared. Couldn't breathe. Think. He pulled his fingers into a fist by his sides, digging his blunt nails into his skin, wanting to feel something other then just the numbing fear.
"Ya gonna kill me? Just do it man, seriously… just…"
He didn't care anymore. Didn't care about living or dying, he just wanted out. Out of here, heaven or hell, he doesn't care. Anywhere but away from this fucker.
His head hurt, his stomach hurt, he needed to pee so badly he could taste it in his throat and his mind was fuckin' screwing with him. He didn't know anymore what he wanted. Live, die… it's all the same in the end. But he doesn't wanna die like this… tortured, bled to death, beaten, raped, fuck, shit, stop it.
"Please, just kill me…"
He whispered to the door, wanting to grab hold of the knife and shove it into Jared's chest, his heart, make it stop beating so loudly behind his back. He tried to ignore Jared's fingers, yeah he knew it was his fingers and not a knife, that were sliding up and down his spine, a bit too hard for comfort, but he couldn't. He was weak, he was a screw up, he… he hung his head down and breathed, making Jared's fingers go away… that warm pressure on his spine that was actually soothing him… in a very sick kinda way.
"Kill ya? Naw, man, now we're gonna have some fun."
And before he knew it there was a finger on his carotid, right there on that soft spot and his hand shot up without his permission, his fingers tightening around Jared's sweat slicked forearm. He lost the ground beneath his feet, being in that position and his back collided with Jared's chest.
He breathed in and out... while he still could, knowing exactly what was about to happen. He'll go to the land of darkness again; in space free of pain. For just a little while.
He didn't have the power to struggle... and then the door, his freedom went away into sweet nothingness with Jared's: "Good." whispered onto the skin of his nape.
Not good...
TBC...
JARED'S POV aka. CHAPTER 3b
CHAPTER 2 __II__ CHAPTER 4
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-11-11 08:05 pm (UTC)you really don't have to read this if it doesn't float your boat, babe :)
hugs
S.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-11 08:32 pm (UTC)hehehehhe..... LOL
btw... I send you an email... explaining some... stuff! LOL
and seriously tbh... 'm going all out with this one... 'm throwing in every freakin' kink I have AND kinks I don't have but need to be in the story for the sake of a story LOL :)))
and *sigh* stomach kink is... yeah... :)
no subject
Date: 2010-11-12 06:39 pm (UTC)LOL :)
ahahha, okay okay, you can imagine Dean here, although Dean would kick Jared's ass! whatever works for ya :)
LOL
no subject
Date: 2010-11-13 01:15 pm (UTC)I bet you read something that totally hits your kink, huh!?
haha, yeah Dean would kick Jared's ass and run away... BUT... yeah.. I need Jensen here too! :)
LOL
no subject
Date: 2010-11-12 09:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-12 06:41 pm (UTC):O freaking out?! ahhaha, I never made anyone freak out before! 's kinda a nice feeling :) LOL
you liked the door scene!? thank you so much! it's always awesome to hear what worked and what didn't! thank you!
whooot!
S.
no subject
Date: 2010-11-12 10:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-12 06:44 pm (UTC)I'll try not to disappoint!! :)
S.