Weds Briefs #17 Diventando: Becoming

Copyright JC Wallace 2014Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. Each week a group of authors participate weekly in Wednesday Briefs Flash Fiction. Each installment is 500-1000 words long and are posted to our blogs each week. After you read the latest in my story, click on the link at the end to visit other flashers.  If you are new to Diventando: Becoming and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. Enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think. Reality and fantasy melded; their frayed ends twisting and twining, joining their fabrics into one. Owen easily slipped along the sheen of their surfaces, falling in and out of the conjoined worlds seamlessly. The fluidity of the movement dulled his mind to that defining line, blurring the two worlds. He knew he was a prisoner in the room, however, was he also a captive in his own mind? He no longer wondered if he was in a morphine-induced haze, dying of cancer. He’d accepted the reality of the monster vying for control of his body. But had his fantasy become his reality? Had Turk shown him kindness and actually promised to help him escape? A sudden bark of laughter burst from Owen’s mouth. There was no fucking escape. Turk and Wayne could drag him from the cell, but he’d never escape the inevitability of fate. His internal captor would emerge.Voices drifted about the room as Owen shivered on his bed. Earlier someone, possibly Malcolm, had mentioned upping the dosage to continue to arrest the demon’s emergence. Owen’s core temp had risen, signaling the drug’s effects waning. Yeah, they certainly didn’t want that asshole out.  Owen shivered and his stomach roiled at the rancid memory of forcing himself on the guard. He needed to know if he was okay...But of course he wasn’t okay. The man had been taken against his will, fucking raped, and some mojo from the Incubus had forced the victim to ask for it...no beg for it.   Malcolm came into view, holding an IV bag to replace the near empty one hanging above Owen. The scowl on his face did little to hide the tension in his body or the glint of fear in his eyes as he neared Owen. Malcolm, the badass covered in tattoos and muscles, definitely from a gym, was afraid of Owen. Not you. The Incubus. As Malcolm quickly changed out the IV bag, Owen shifted on the mattress to face him. Owen’s hands were no longer cuffed behind his back. Thick leather cuffs now tethered each arm to the rails of the bed, which had eased the screaming pain in his shoulders. Not that they’d did it to make him more comfortable. “Is the guard okay? Was he hurt?” Owen asked in a strained voice, desperate to ease his mind even a little. The scowl deepened and Malcolm ignored Owen as usual. The muscles in his jaw popped as he clenched his teeth. “Please, I just...I need to know he’s okay. I didn’t want—” Malcolm turned on Owen, a raging fire in his eyes. “No, he’s not okay! You fucking raped him, demon.” As Malcolm leaned closer, fear flared in Owen’s chest, knowing the physical damage the man could render. Maybe... “I did rape him. I couldn’t stop...The demon...He’s strong and soon even this,” Owen motioned to the IV, “won’t stop him.” “They say Daniel had a gun trained on you while you fucked Thomas but then he hit you with the darts instead. Fucking idiot. I bet you did something to him, forcing him to spare your life.” Malcolm spit the words out, coating them in as much venom as he could. He hated Owen, hated the demon, and Owen couldn’t blame him. “Daniel should have fucking ended you and the evil inside.” Owen knew that Daniel was Turk’s first name since he’d heard Dr. Sealy use it but he wondered about the nickname. “Daniel?” “Daniel Turek. The hunter.”  Turek...Turk. Malcolm sneered and leaned closer, apparently forgetting his fear. “He’s going to kill you. He’s been hunting you for a long time.”  The memory of Turk struggling against the necessity of shooting someone he cared for—or Owen hoped cared for—was like a kick to the chest. How would Turk live with himself if he killed Owen? God, Owen had begged him for death. If Owen could spare Turk the deed of having to kill him then he’d could remove the guilt that would come from actually pulling the trigger.  “I bet you wish you could kill me.” A smirk tugged at the corner of Malcolm’s mouth and light brightened his eyes. “You disgust me. Attacking and stealing power with your faggot ways.” Shit, he was a demonphobe and a homophobe. Definitely in Owen’s favor. “Guess you would be doing the world a favor by ending me. I can feel him, you know. He’s really close to the surface. Every minute, every second, he lives and breathes, and becomes stronger than these drugs.” Malcolm’s bravado slipped and he took a step back, the fear returning with Owen’s words. Owen’s heart raced as he locked the consequences his actions would bring behind a door in his mind. He had no choice. He just wished Turk could somehow know he’d done this for him.  “I’ve tried to hold him back, but I’m tired. So fucking tired. The pressure in my head, in my chest, hurts, and he’s clawing his way out, and he’s thinking and planning. I can hear him in my mind. He’s gonna get out and he’s got one name on his lips, the name of the man who’s power he wants most, the one who warrants revenge.”  Malcom’s eyes widened and his head shook minutely.  Owen nodded, fighting the panic that was icier than the drugs in his veins.  For Turk. “You Malcolm. He wants you.” “I ain’t no faggot! Fuck you! You ain’t touching me! I’ll end you before you touch me.”  Malcolm growled and lunged for Owen, his hands wrapping tightly around Owen’s neck. As he squeezed, panic surged and Owen’s mind and body instinctively fought back. Luckily, the restraints made his fight futile. Malcolm, his face red from effort, had locked his arms and pushed the heels of his palms against Owen’s throat, cutting off oxygen and blood. Owen fought to take in a breath as his lungs burned and heaved. His primal need to survive had kicked in and he wanted to live, needed air, but as his vision blackened at the edges, he retreated into his mind.  Turk...Wayne...his mom and step-father...his aunt...relatives and friends, all would live on without him. All safe from the demon.  Beautiful Turk. The man who’d captured his heart at first sight. Owen’s body went slack as a distant roar sounded in his ears. If he gave in, let go, this would be easier. He’d be off to the afterlife and he could save the world from an evil so vile it would threaten the very light of day. Drifting in the deep waters of his mind, Owen listened to a sweet melody...a lullaby his mother had sung to him as a child and also when he’d been so sick and she thought he was near death. Beside the song was the deep rumbling of Turk’s voice, telling Owen he would be okay, that everythingwould be okay. And Wayne, begging Owen to open his eyes. Owen couldn’t open his eyes because he had to go. Keep them all safe.  Something struck Owen’s cheek, jarring his thoughts, clearing the haze. A deep gasp and sweet cool oxygen expanded his lungs. Another breath and Owen wondered how death could feel like life. “Shit, Owen, open your fucking eyes!” Another strike and Owen’s eyes popped open to see Wayne and Turk leaning over him. Tears ran down his cheeks.  “No! No! No! What the fuck did you do? He was going to save you by killing me!” Wayne’s eyebrows climbed his forehead, anger marring his features. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Owen turned to Turk with pleading eyes. “I didn’t want you to have to do it. I didn’t want you to feel that guilt. You shouldn’t have...” More fucking tears. Owen wanted off this damned rollercoaster. The constant ups and downs, the highs of hope and dips into despair, had all but crushed his will. Turk pursed his lips into a thin white line. He pushed sweaty locks of hair from Owen’s forehead, the gentleness like knife stabs into Owen’s soul. Soft, pain-filled eyes surveyed Owen’s face and fingers ran over the raw skin of his neck. Owen shuddered from the reverent touches.  Wayne quickly worked to remove the restraint from Owen’s left arm. Turk seeing the action quickly freed Owen’s other arm, then took the wrist between his palms, rubbing the chaffed skin tenderly.  When Turk looked up, Owen gasped at the intensity of the gaze. “I promised to get you out of here. I keep my promises. And we have a plan.”  While Owen wanted to rail against his rescue, beg Turk, beg Wayne, to let him die and rid him of the malevolent entity in his body, the naked affection in those eyes changed everything. Owen did the one thing he’d dreamed of, fantasized of, since he’d last seen Turk. He raised his shaking hands, took Turk’s face in his hands, and pulled him down for a kiss. # #  Check out the other flashers this week at httbp://wedbriefsfic.com/  or click on the links below:  Cia NordwellJon KeysShelly SchulzGrace Duncan Rob ColtonLily Sawyer Michael MandrakeRaine O’Tierney Victoria AdamsMA Church Chris T. KatTali SpencerElyzabeth VaLey Renee StevensMC Houle Julie Lynn Hayes