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headless-heart · 7 years ago

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Goretober Day 2: On Pins and Needles

Maybe consider not messing with the weird kid at school

Warnings/Tags: mentioned past self harm/past suicide attempt, monsters, magic, torture, needles, revenge, original characters, original story

The school’s hallways are lined with alcoves, which was probably designed to improve the school’s Aesthetic™ or something but mostly lends itself to places for students to stash chewed up gum and various trash from the cafeteria. Rumors also went around that the older kids skipped class to hook up there, but all the cameras made that pretty unlikely. There’s one toward the end of the hallway, out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the classrooms, and Krexx claimed that one freshman year. Most of the other students leave him to it, which is ideal for everyone involved.

He’s sitting with knees drawn up to his chest, staring intently at a poorly sewn plushie that looks like a strange hybrid of a dragon and an english bulldog. He has it held tightly in his hands, head tilted slightly to the side as he meets its gaze. Eventually he huffs out a long sigh and rests his head against a knee. “I don’t know buddy. I don’t think that’ll work.” There’s a pause as he seems to contemplate the toy. “I mean maybe…”

“Hey freak!” There’s laughter as Krexx slowly turns his head to look at the bodies blocking his light.

“Can I help you?” he asks softly.

“Help me what? Learn to be a freak like you?” No one said high school bullies are an intelligent breed, and this particular specimen is of the insecure meathead variety. Krexx normally wouldn’t waste his time, but being trapped in an alcove limits one’s options a bit. Teachers can’t be bothered to intervene of course, they’re too busy teaching the masses or whatever nonsense they sell to the school board.

Krexx draws his plush toward his chest, sitting with legs crossed and looking calmly up at his schoolmate. “I would like it if you would leave,” he states plainly.

There’s a scowl on the boy’s face. His arms are crossed and he’s glaring down at Krexx like he’s nothing more than dirt under his heel. “And I’d like it if you did us all a favor and actually fucking offed yourself this time.”

He sighs, leaning back harder against the wall and gazing up through his bangs. “See the thing is,” he pauses to fiddle with the plushie’s undersized wings. “I don’t… particularly care what you think.”

Turns out meathead jocks move pretty fast once you piss them off. Up close he spells like steroid injections and man pain. There’s a sadistic grin on his face though, and that’s a bit concerning. “I should rip your fucking stitches open you gothic piece of shit.”

Expressionless, Krexx reaches one hand down and pulls up a long, tattered sleeve to reveal angry raised scars starting at his wrist and extending beyond what the fabric reveals. “Afraid you’re too late for that,” he quips, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. It’s a little easier to fight the oncoming smile when he’s slammed into the wall and the air knocks out of his lungs.

The other boy is practically spitting his words. “Do you fucking know who you’re messing with?”

He does. Not that he wants to obviously, but it’s a little hard not to know when half the school, including teachers, is constantly fawning over the guy. Nicholas Vanderbilt-Owens, Gallery High’s star football player and a town favorite. Apparently he comes from one of those “big deal” sort of families. Whatever. It’s not that impressive when you consider the fact the kid’s so insecure he has to push others around just to feel manly enough to maintain his rank in the high school pecking order. Krexx shrugs, receiving another hit against the wall for his efforts. “Are you done?”

There’s a pregnant pause before Owens relents, dropping Krexx back down on the floor. Krexx rubs at the spot his head collided with the wall and watches silently as the other boy starts to pace back and forth like an angry animal. Finally Owens stops, makes a grab for the plush toy, and Krexx wraps both hands around one of the boy’s wrists, trying in vain to keep him from snatching the toy. There’s a grin splitting the bully’s face now that Krexx’s calm demeanor has finally started to crack. “What’s wrong, can’t give up your faggy little toy?” A single yank and Krexx is gazing up in horror as his beloved companion is hoisted far out of his reach.

“Give. Him. Back!” the words are dripping with venom, but the bully seems unphased. He’s able to hold the full force of the smaller boy’s body back with one hand, much to Krexx’s dismay. He watches powerless as Owens lifts the toy up, rips the seams apart, and throws the pieces down by Krexx’s boots.

Everything looks a little hazy as Krexx reaches out and touches the fabric with shaking fingers. Owens is laughing, throws a middle finger over his shoulder and stalks over to torture the next kid he deems somehow lesser than himself. Krexx glares after him, feeling his heartbeat strangling his lungs. Everything feels dark and heavy, and he’s not sure if he’s more pissed off at Owens for being a piece of shit or himself for being a mouthy fuck.

By the time the bell rings he’s propped up on the handicap toilet, tongue stuck out in concentration as he works diligently to close the seams that oaf so carelessly destroyed. “It’s okay Glow,” he mutters absent-mindedly. “I’ll get you all fixed up.”

“Don’t know why you bother with that,” a deep voice grumbles, reverberating off the walls of the stall.

Krexx smiles softly down at the monster curled up at his feet, tail softly tapping against the floor. “Have to have somewhere for you to hang out when I’m at school, right?”

The snort is accompanied by a thin trail of smoke. “They can’t see me.”

A shrug as he continues his work. “I know buddy, but I don’t want them to think I’m crazy talking to myself either, you know?” He ignores the unspoken judgement from his companion that follows that statement.

Some time later Glausach lets out a low grown. “Shouldn’t let them treat you like that.”

Krexx turns slowly, a wide grin splitting his lips. “Oh I won’t,” he responds cheerily. There’s a crudely constructed poppet in one hand a needle in the other. The monster’s laughter sounds like the creaking of floorboards and Krexx can’t help but grin wider. It’s been a long time since either of them had the chance to play.

- - -

“The fuck are you doing here?” What a rude greeting, especially after all the trouble they’d gone through to track him down. Owens is spread out on a worn down couch, eyes bloodshot from the joint he’d been smoking before their arrival.

Krexx strides purposefully into the room, plopping down on a rickety rocking chair and propping his feet up on the table. “Just came to see what you’re up to,” he says with a smile, head tilted slightly to stare down at Owens. The plushie is propped under his arm, warm and comfortable in his grasp. “Killing more brain cells I see.”

“Weed don’t kill your brain cells,” Owens scoffs, leaning back in his chair. It’s late and he’s high, probably think he’s dreaming. It’s funny how people tend to justify the abnormalities in their lives. Krexx watches him struggle to relight the joint for a moment before snatching the lighter from his hand and holding the flame steady. Owens nods at him in thanks and takes a long drag before holding the joint out to Krexx. Grin widening, Krexx slides a hand over Owens’, slowly reaching for the drug before he stops just short, flicking his wrist and laughing outright when Owens jumps back in shock. “The fuck you just do?”

The poppet is back in his hand, finger running over the rough surface of it a few times before he thrusts the bloody pin into the thing’s heart. Owens is still staring at him in slack-jawed confusion, which honestly makes Krexx wonder if this is going to be any fun or if the idiot is too stupid to comprehend what’s happening to him. Krexx drops a handful of multi-colored pins onto the end-table beside him, shifting into a more comfortable position. Glausach’s vessel is nestled in his lap, the monster’s purring offering a pleasing background to the otherwise annoying silence.

“What’s th- AGH! What the fuck?” Owens’ fingers come away from his cheek bloody. He glances quickly down at them and back up to Krexx who is shrugging innocently, another pin in one hand and the poppet in another.

“You know~” Krexx coos, holding the pin so it’s hovering just over the poppet’s surface. “It’s a bit, hm… What’s the word? Rude, I suppose, to ruin other people’s things.”

“You- FUCK!” He’s clutching at his leg, breath coming quicker as the panic starts to set in.

A soft chuckle floats out of Krexx’s throat as he strokes a finger lovingly down the poppet’s leg. There’s a needle sticking partially in it, which is probably causing Owens a decent bit of pain. Still, it’s not quite the level of torment the bully had put others through, was it? “How much,” Krexx begins, looking up to meet Owens’ gaze. “Do you like playing football exactly?”

“I-I… What?” Owens is still pawing at his own leg, trying to figure out what’s causing the sharp pain in the center of his calf.

“Probably quite a bit considering it’s all you’re good at,” Krexx muses, head tilting from one side to another. “It’d be a shame if you lost out on this season, wouldn’t it?”

He twists the poppet’s leg and flinches back when Owens starts screaming bloody murder. He’s so loud he could wake the dead, and no one wants that. Krexx shares a look with Glausach, whose aura extends and reaches around the trio, effectively encasing them in a pearlescent barrier.

There are tears rushing down Owens cheeks and he’s staring at Krexx in horror. “What the fuck did you do to my leg you freaky fuck?”

Krexx waves his hand dismissively. “You’ll be fine, you big baby. You’ll probably only lose a season or two. Then again,” he pauses, a finger tapping at his chin. “I’m not a doctor, so maybe I’m wrong.”

“Y-you’re not g-guh! Gonna fucking,” Owens grits out through his teeth. “Gonna fucking get away with this you s-sick fuck!”

One, two slow blinks of his eyes. “Do… What?” he asks in mock confusion. He gives it a beat to sink in before he grins and dangles the poppet in front of Owens’ face. The jock tries to reach for it, but Krexx snatches it back before he has the chance. “Ah-ah!” he chides. “Wouldn’t want to do any unplanned damage now would we?”

Owens is breathing slowly in through his nose, out through his mouth. He’s blinking back the tears and seems to be gathering his strength to attempt to… Well something, anyway, and that won’t do. Krexx picks up another pin, running it lightly along the surface of the doll and watching thin pink lines appear on Owens’ skin. Owens flinches, but otherwise doesn’t react. Cute. He seems to think without a reaction, Krexx won’t continue. Amazing how the bullies will turn that rhetoric on its head.

“What do you say we get matching scars?” Krexx asks excitedly. “Since you were so concerned with mine and all.”

“Don’t you fuckin-”

“SHUT UP!” Krexx bellows, eyes glowing softly in the darkness of the basement. “You don’t have the power here. I do.”

Glow’s tail taps against the back of Krexx’s hand and the boy shakes his head once, twice, eyes returning to normal and refocusing on the task ahead. He wanted to do this right after-all, and rushing through would be no good. He plants the poppet firmly on the table and smirks slightly at the horror in Owens’ eyes once he realizes he suddenly couldn’t move.

“N-no. No. No, please!” Begging? Really? After everything he’d put the school “losers” though he has the audacity to beg? Pathetic.

The needle drags slowly over the poppets face, a wide gash splitting open on Owens’ face with the movement. He’s screaming and thrashing, and trying all the things his pea-sized brain can think of to get away. To no avail, of course. No, they’re just getting started. Krexx picks up a few pins from the table and plants them in the puppets tiny arm, dragging them up, up, up until there’s blood splattering the floor and he’s laughing over the screams.

#i may have accidentally started a new novel #i wanted to write more #ya know with the actual gore scene and all that #but i'm fucking tired #fundead's goretober prompts 2017 #goretober #goretober 17 #neko's writing #neko's OCs #drug ment

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