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in one quick motion, he lowered himself into the hole, prepared for the dro
p this time, his feet catching him at the bottom. There, he could see the fa
wn, its small shadow struggling in the dim light provided from above, and he
stood, his eyes moving to his feet at the sound of a small thud where somet
hing had fallen after him. Reaching for the silver gleam, he wrapped his han
d around the handle of the knife he himself had butchered and skinned many a
nimals with in the past.
“Go ahead and finish it,” he heard his father say. “Then go on and tell me
how much you think you love that thing.”
David didn’t look up, or otherwise acknowledge his father’s words as he move
d slowly towards the frightened animal towards the back of the dark trap. He
could hear the sound of the fawn’s hooves, struggling against the concrete
as it continued its struggle to stand, and for a long moment he stood over i
t with the knife of his hand before finally sinking to his knees, reaching o
ut with a gentle hand. It was no surprise when she lurched away from him, bu
t David was persistent and calm as he cornered her against the wall until he
was able to get an arm around her neck. He hugged her close, drawing her he
ad against his chest as he sank down to the floor, and rubbed her ears the w
ay she liked until he felt the tension begin to leave her body.
“Shh,” he whispered. “It’s okay. There is somewhere better... maybe I’ll be t
here someday... but I gotta send you first.” He released a deep breath, place
d a kiss over the top of the fawn’s head, and then did just that.
She didn’t go peacefully, but David expected nothing less. He hoped that w
hen his own time came he’d be the same way. And it was strange for him, be
cause while he’d killed before, nothing had ever made him feel more mortal
. Mortals had souls, didn’t they? No matter. There were always things that
he couldn’t have, and he’d learned to get by without, and when he couldn’
t, he relied on Oliver. He was the only one left now, just like before. Th
e only one who loved him. David had always wondered if that was the reason
why he hadn’t followed his fawn to that better place he so desperately wa
nted to believe was there, because he sure wanted to.
But he climbed out of that hole. He did, his clothes bloodied, particularly hi
s shirt, where he’d tucked the fawn’s heart into his pocket. He’d come back fo
r the rest of her later, but something about leaving her heart in that place..
.
David had been surprised how much he needed to catch his breath when he reac
hed ground level and took the time to do so on his knees. After all, he was
feeling otherwise calm. Almost too calm, as if there was something in him wa
iting... just waiting. He could feel his eyes lifting more than he was aware
of lifting them, watching as his father knelt down in front of him, wearing
a friendly smile on his face that wasn’t actually friendly at all. Proud, D
avid decided. It was a proud smile, but there was no sense in trying to figu
re out which part of this tragedy the man was actually proud of.
“You feel better now, don’t you boy?” Brian asked.
David cocked his head, looking at his father strangely for a long moment as
he tried not to think about the way the blood was causing his shirt to sti
ck to his skin. He drew back his head, as if to think about the question, b
ut only for a moment before he brought it swinging back down, and when his
father’s nose collided with his forehead, he smiled through his dad’s cursi
ng as he slowly stood and walked away. And then, when he was ordered to com
e back, he kept walking. Later that night, when he went home, he’d receive
the beating of his life followed by two days in the basement without so muc
h as a drop of water touching his tongue, but it didn’t matter. Not when he
remembered that day, crawling out of that hole. He’d felt different then,
changed.
He wondered if he’d change again when he got out this time. He thought of hi
s better place. Maybe he’d go there. Maybe after he sent a few select people
there first.
Thanks to Jim for editing!
Chapter Twelve: Part two
Day Two
He had a dream that something heavy, violent, was trying to climb its way ou
t of his chest, and awoke to his own violent coughing. Poison. It’s how he t
hought of the filthy water covering his prison floor, and even while he’d ma
naged to get a lot of it to drain, he’d also managed to inhale more than he
wanted to think about in his restless sleep. Twice now. And his skin itched.
He’d clawed at his own arms, his neck, his face, trying to make it stop. Co
mpletely saturated, he felt infested. Crawling... but crawling with what?
Gasping, David sat upright, his hand moving roughly along the wall as he des
perately searched for the lighter, swatted at his own face with his free han
d in an attempt to relieve himself from some unseen, unbearable pest. And th
en it was there, cool in his hand; he closed his eyes tightly, hoping it was
n’t too wet. Flick. He opened his eyes to a warm flame, and sighed. It seeme
d somehow bigger, hotter each time he used the lighter. And as he looked dow
n over his body, he felt relief. He was damp, and filthy, sore and scratched
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