callmeemily | It's like she's there, again. TW: VIOLENCE/TORTURE

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It's like she's there, again. TW: VIOLENCE/TORTURE

Trigger Warning: This thread contains violence, and torture. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to tweet @thestarsplay for clarification. Thanks!

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When he'd closed the bathroom door, when he'd turned the light out, the room was plunged into darkness.

Raleigh had screamed until her throat was raw; she sobbed until she had no tears. She was in that basement again; that basement where she'd been so sure that she would die; her leg was numb but she tried to crawl, tried to crawl and reopened her foot, blood smearing the floor. She'd finally stopped, her cheek flat on the ground as she stared at the minuscule crack of light that was coming from under the door. She may have slept; she didn't eat the meal they brought, although after they brought it she tried to pull her hands from the manacles, streaking her wrists with blood.

Finally, she waited. She lay on the floor and waited for them to come. Help wasn't coming. Maybe... maybe someone had noticed; it'd been a day. Maybe Jason had wandered to the bakery. Maybe Spencer wondered why she didn't bring him soup like she'd promised.

Maybe nobody had noticed. Maybe they'd noticed, but nobody cared. Maybe... maybe they'd just assumed she'd moved on.

She was going to die here. She was going to die here. She thought, still. She thought about things she could do, that there'd be anything she could do... besides die. She heard the door open, and she squinted at the light, shrinking back from the light and all that would come with it.

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Deciding to not kill Corrine had been, in Joseph's estimation, a rather brilliant choice on his part. His current partner, while very useful, was not much in the way of company. Normally that didn't bother him in the least but recently, since meeting Corrine, he had come to realize that perhaps some company wouldn't be a bad thing. If it didn't work out, he could always kill her later.

"Corrine?" he called out as he came into her room. It was late on Sunday evening now and the ceremony had to take place soon and he wanted her there. It would be the first of many that she witnessed so she might as well get used to it.

"It's time. For the ceremony. Not for you, of course. I've decided to take you with me. You will write and perform stories, as we discussed. But it's time for the ceremony and I want you there."

She is Scheherazade. She loved that story once. She and Leslie. An entire summer of tales on the beach. She performed them. Her own take. It was fun once. Her stories are all that stand between her and some horrible fate. The stories become her. She is the stories. Is she just a story? Is life just a story? Is any if this even real? She has to keep it together. She has to keep it together and the door opens and Joseph is here again. She cringes into the pillow, sheds a tear hidden in the bed before she turns to face him. Sits up in greeting. Her chains are tight and binding but long enough that she at least has some mobility. She's learned now, she knows better now, than to try to use them as defense. She's been a fool. The silent monster has taught her.

"Joseph." She greets him with sweetness. With gladness in her voice and maybe it is better than deteriorating alone in captivity. But she doesn't understand what he's saying. Ceremony... Not for her. But someone else... There's a horrible part of her that is relieved but there is no release. Only more death and more captivity and it has to stop it has to what can she do? Can she help them escape? Would she then surely be killed?

"Ceremony?" She is too tired to play. To pretend. "I don't. I don't want to. Please. I - I have a story about a-a troll king that I must tell you. P-please." She swallows hard. Please no one has to die. Please no one for me ever again.

Edited 2014-06-21 00:57 (UTC)

"I don't think you understand. Let me tell you a story. Or part of a story at least. Part of my story."

It was, Joseph thought, a rather good story. Maybe not as good as some, maybe it wasn't the Great American Novel, but it was good all the same. It was certainly unlike any story that he had read, that was for sure. Perhaps, when he could no longer stave off the inevitable, Corrine would be able to tell his story.

"My partner there, you can't see them, but he wears a special set of manacles. These manacles allow me to control him. I only have to think a thought and he must obey. It's been that way for years. But the spell necessary to maintain the control requires sacrifices. If I ever were to fail to perform the spell I would not longer have him in my control, and he would certainly kill him."

That was why the ceremony must be completed tonight. There was no time to find more kills despite how dangerous staying here was after their debacle earlier that day. It had to be tonight.

"But as I said, I'm not going to kill you. I had to go find another girl to take your place, but that wasn't so hard. After the ceremony we'll leave and I think I will have a similar set of manacles fashioned for you. I can't risk having you escape. It means twice the deaths but I've been doing this for a long time, so I'm not worried about that."

The fight had left her. The fight had left her except for fleeting fits and spurts. It comes and goes with the all-encompassing knowledge of futility. But if his decision is made, if she will soon lose her will and all that is her, what greater harm could come to her now? Someone else. Her place. She doesn't want to die she doesn't want to die she doesn't want to die but not this way. She can't accept this. She just wants to go home. She just wants to leave this room and feel air against her face again. She doesn't want to die. She doesn't want someone else to die for her.

"No." She can't bring herself to look at the man. She imagines she is Leslie and burns the man to a crisp with ferocious magic. She frees them all. "At least most villains find henchman to stay with them by choice. Are you really so pathetic?" He can't hurt her anymore. She is dead or she is his slave. She believed she would be rescued but it has been so long. So long and there is no one. Her story. The goblin king. It has become darker as she tells it. The princess died. The prince is too late and the goblin king steals his soul too. He reigns. He wins. But he must die. She hasn't figured out the ending yet. Her goblin king must have an end. All things do. She does too.

"Please..." She doesn't fight the sob anymore. "Please don't." Humanize. Humanize him. It has worked so far. "Joseph. Joseph, please." If she's to be enslaved, if someone is to die, if she has nothing else she can at least plead for their life. Both of their lives. Must Corrine Flynn live with blood in her hands the rest of her life? "Just let her go. I'll stay with you. Please." There is no hope for her anyway. He has carved her fate. And maybe one day. Maybe one day someone will recognize the shell who was once the great Corrine Flynn. Or maybe one day... One day she will escape.

Edited 2014-06-21 13:56 (UTC)

"You weren't listening," Joseph said, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice. She wouldn't do a very good job of telling his story if she didn't listen. He would certainly have to fix that once he got a pair of manacles for her. Once that happened then she would be perfect, she would be exactly as he needed her.

"If I don't complete the ceremony tonight, I will die. I'm not willing to let that happen."

His partner came in then and unchained the girl, grabbing her tight around the wrist. If she tried to attack him or get away his partner would show her what a poor idea that was.

"Come now, it's time to meet the others."

She goes from one set of binds to another. Too strong hands, too rough, tight around her. She squirms, attempts to get free out of both reflex and defiance, staring at Joseph the entire time. But she doesn't fight. Whatever is about to happen she has a feeling she needs her wits about her more than she's allowed in days. Or however long she's been here.

She says nothing but the sheer look of hatred she directs at Joseph as the brute carries her off says more than any words could.

And then she changes her mind. She can be the actress. She will be his henchman. "You're right. I want to see. I want to help. Show me how you do it, Joseph." And maybe then. Maybe if she plays a part of henchman, willing accomplice, she can find a way to help the girl. To escape together. "If she is dying for me, it should be on my hands."

Edited 2014-06-21 20:17 (UTC)

Joseph eyed her warily, he would never trust her so much that he wouldn't manacle her, but it would be nice if she was somewhat compliant until then. He could afford to take any chances, not now, but perhaps something was finally going right.

"Come then," he said, leaving the room as his partner drug her along after him. It was late and there was no one outside their motel to see. A quick hand across the girl's mouth ensured that she couldn't scream while he entered the new room.

They entered the new room where the baker girl was tied up, along with the homeless man. It was close now and he could feel his heart beating faster, the need to have that security of the ceremony completed itching through him. His partner tied Corrine up in the other chair, duct taping her arms and legs to the chair. He wouldn't take any precautions when it was this close.

"Now," he said, turning to the baker girl and the homeless man. "Before I hear your answer, let me introduce you to Corrine. She will be observing the ceremony tonight. She asked to help, but I'm not sure if she's ready for that just yet."

Damn it. Damn it. She can't do anything like this. The duct tape burns as she tries to move against it. She doesn't want to see the others. The ones she damned. She didn't mean to. She didn't. She didn't ask for someone to take her place. They're all victims here. They. She. But it's her with blood on her hands. She swears she didn't know. She was a fool . She's been a fool from the beginning.

But the brute forces her to face them. Forces her eyes open. Staring at the other captives. She didn't expect to know one. She wants to scream. She wants to tell the girl to run but she's as trapped as Corrine and it would do none of them any good.

She's staring at her now. Corrine at the girl. The girl at Corrine. It's the baker. She knows the face almost immediately despite how disheveled and frantic and terrified it is. The sweet girl who helped her feed the crew cleaning up the beach. She doesn't even remember her name. It's too cruel. All Corrine can do is mouth words to her. Silent, but true.

"I'm sorry."

Edited 2014-06-21 23:48 (UTC)

"Now tell me," Joseph said, turning to the homeless man and the baker girl and ignoring Corrine for the moment. "Have decided which of you lives and which of you dies? Remember, I need both of you to have agreed on who dies or I kill both of you."

He already knew which one they would have chosen. Rarely did the choice he gave the participants in the ceremony change when it was two people so different. The homeless, for all their filth and often madness, were a surprisingly altruistic group for the most part.

She never expected it to be someone she'd met before.

Staring at Corrine, Raleigh's face twisted as she watched her. It was with pain and hurt, the scraped skin from when she'd been batted into the bathroom wall starting to purple slightly, but the red of her face from being backhanded was only just beginning to fade.

She didn't look terrified as she stared at Corry - she looked exhausted, she looked angry - but not terrified.

Wulfric spoke up, sounding just as exhausted. "Me. I die." Raleigh closed her eyes tightly, and turned her face from him for a second as her hands - half-numb from how tight she was strapped down - they curled into fists, before she looked back at him.

She's not talking to Joseph, she's talking to Wulfric. "I will remember this, every day of my life. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Corrine doesn't understand. He said there would be double the killings. She doesn't understand what's going on, he said the girl would take her place. Is it all a game? She just stares and watches. She thinks she's finally numb. The terror has transcended. She's out of her body. She's watching someone else. She cannot save anyone. She's back in the movies.

They are all going to die.

Edited 2014-06-22 02:36 (UTC)

"You didn't follow the rules," Joseph said, turning to look at the baker girl, expression completely blank. Not even disappointment on his face. "I made it clear I must hear it from both of you. You didn't say that you agreed he would die. This man was going to give his life for you and you threw it all away because you couldn't follow the rules."

Joseph let that sink in for a moment, impassively watching the realization dawn on her that she had just killed herself, that a man had been willing to sacrifice himself for her and she had thrown it away. She had ruined his gift. He didn't take any sick, sadistic pleasure from it beyond the fact that this girl had been so enraged at him for being willing to take a life for his, now she had done the same. Or tried to.

"But not to worry. I was never going to spare one of you. It's absolutely necessary that both of you die during the ceremony. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to prepare."

With that, he had his partner both walked through the door that separated the two rooms and shut it. It would take a moment to prepare everything but none of them were going anywhere.

"No, no- No, I'm sorry-" She tried to twist herself up so that he'd listen, so that he'd listen to her when he never had, and she's not understanding that it doesn't mean she's not free at first; she didn't expect to be let go, not after everything. Maybe she wouldn't have been a part of a fucked up ritual, but there was no way she was walking out of here. She knew that, she'd told Wulfric that, but he'd just told her they had to take the chance that for once - for once - he might not be lying.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, and she closed her eyes before he stepped out. He stepped out and closed the door with a click, and Raleigh finally, finally looked at Corry.

"I guess me asking you to tell my mom I love her would be stupid, right? Given that you'd rather help?" Her voice is sharp and strained and raw, and she wonders, idly, how much it's going to hurt. How long she'll be awake. If she'd see Wulfric die before her - and if Corry will be glad.

It hurts. The words. Her words. The condemning stare. It snaps Corrine back to reality and she's angry. At the baker at Joseph at the world. "You think I'm getting out of here?! He's going to keep me! Make me his slave like that - that thing!" Her words are raw and hoarse. Sharp. Filled with bile. But the girl has every right to accuse. Corrine fated her to this. "I offered to help because I thought -" Sobs well in her throat. " I thought if he let me near you I c-could help you escape." Escape. It's just them now. She has to. They have to escape. She starts rocking her body, trying to tear her hands from the tape, shift the chair to the girl, to something.

"I'm sorry!" Her wrists are raw and stretched and torn but the tape stays all the same, he sobs are too overwhelming to bear. It doesn't matter if they can hear. This is probably all part of Joseph's sick game. "I d-I didn't know. I'm so s-sorry. God I'm sorry." She rocks the chair so hard it falls. She crashes to the floor hard. A leg breaks. She can't escape the chair, but it seems she can break it. And she has her body on the ground now. It's horrible tedious work but she snakes closer. Closer to the baker. They are in this together.

Edited 2014-06-22 03:15 (UTC)

Corry talks about her being his slave, and Raleigh actually rolls her eyes, even though it hurts. Everything hurts. "Let me cry you a river from where I'm all hacked to pieces so that he can have eternal life, or whatever." The words are harsh, but she looks away then because she's somehow found the ability to cry again, and she can't not.

"Her name's Emily Gregson. My mom."

Corry continues then, she looks back, her face twisting in confusion. "They'll kill you. They'll kill you, too, for helping me.For even trying to help me." She's saying me, like Wulfric wasn't there, like he wasn't already a walking dead man. "There's no way out," she says lowly even as Corry's chair falls with a crash, and Raleigh's eyes flick to the door. "I can't walk.... much. He made it- He sliced my foot open so I couldn't run." It's horrifying, but she says it the same way you'd just talk about a normal injury.

When Corry falls, Raleigh just can't see her anymore; she's gone, and she hears this sickening crack, and she has to ask - "Are you alright?" Not that it mattered.

The baker's words bore into her. Hurt worse than anything Joseph has done. "I'm on your side." She's pleading, whispering, crying. She's not sure the girl can even hear her words. She remembers there someone else there. "Please, I'm on your side." She's on the ground now, wiggling, crawling. trying to capture the broken chair leg with her. Trying to get closer to the captives. She will be on their side. If they die, she will be with them. Maybe she will die too. But maybe. She strains harder than she knew possible. She has the chair leg beneath her, moving with her but it means nothing without her hands. She wonders if she can use the jagged edge to tear the tape. If she could free them all. It is a pipe dream, but it is hope.

She cries out as she strains her hands. Futily, but enough that her fingers graze the tip of the wood. "I'm - I'm trying - I'm trying to help us. My life is over anyway." Alive or dead. Corrine Flynn will be no more.

And then she remembers something. Name. Emily. Her mother? Corrine tries to distract herself as she works towards - something. Getting closer to Emily, getting closer to the broken chair leg. "Y-you're Emily."

Edited 2014-06-22 03:58 (UTC)

She knows, now. She knows - the beginning, it was Joseph first, and then Corrine's own words. Even though Raleigh knows that it's not right, that she shouldn't think that it would be better to be a slave then to be dead to make Joseph live longer...

"I know. I know." She says it to the ceiling as the tears slip back into her hair, and her lower lip wavers as she doesn't want to think of it. As she tries to think of what they'll do to her - and given how this was a lie, how this whole thing was a lie, she wonders if they'll do the one thing that he said they wouldn't.

She wonders, now, why he told her that they wouldn't violate her. If it was so she'd think it wouldn't happen.

"Your life isn't over. You... You can- You can get away, later, when he's sleeping, or... I don't know, but you can get away. Everyone knows who you are."

She starts to cry, then. Really cry. "Nobody's even going to know I'm dead," she says thickly. "Nobody would miss me, so- so it's good, if you survive." It's gotten to her. The stress, the pain, the exhaustion - the things Joseph said. A young girl that no one would miss walking alone before the sun is up... perhaps you should have valued your own life more

"You have to get up. They need to think that you're okay." That's when she finally said it. That she was Emily, and Raleigh couldn't even say anything but the truth. "Emily's my mother. Emily Gregson. Please, just- just tell her I'm sorry, and that I love her. That I loved her, okay?" Her words are thick with tears, and she's just staring up at the ceiling now, letting them run back to her hair.

Corry barely whispers. She doesn't look at Emily - at the girl now. She doesn't want to know it herself. "No. He uses magic. If he... I won't even have my own will to escape." She shakes her head, then her body, rocking it harder, trying to break the rest of the chair. This is not a pity party. This is not a contest of whose fate is worse. They should be consoling each other. Saving each other!

And then she remembers something. Emily, not being missed. A conversation that seems forever ago. Leslie. The realization of him again. That he is real, that he is shared, that he is not some figment that she has made up. It gives her hope that she hasn't felt in an incomprehensible stretch of time. "Leslie would know." She lifts her head from the floor to look at the girl. "Leslie." She starts to laugh, her beautiful wonderful Leslie. She feels something like giddiness. Maybe she is beyond gone now. "He told me about you. That he was telling you about the supernatural world in exchange for cake. He got such a kick out of it."

She can't get up. The chair's half broken. The most she can do is stay in place. Or keep going. She's going to keep going. She remembers why she has to again.

Edited 2014-06-22 06:51 (UTC)

There was, as far as Raleigh knew - especially because she had no idea what was going on with Corrine and the chair - no saving each other. There was the chance that she'd maybe be able to mess up the ritual - maybe die now, before he needs her - but she can't even make that happen.

She can't move. She can't sit up. She can't do anything, and that seemed to be Joseph's purpose. That she couldn't do anything but die.

"He made fun of me," she says thickly, when she turned her face away as Wulfric made peace with whatever afterlife that was supposed to exist. "He thought it was funny, I think, that I was scared of all this. Because I'm human and I can't- and now look." She remembers what Les did bring her, though. That was how she ended up in Jason's arms, how she had the best night she'd had in months because of the way he was so entirely clueless about people who weren't like him.

"No, but that's Leslie. He's a good guy. He's the best guy. W- when we get out of here... you should try making him something with pickles. His favorite." She's at the foot of the girl's bed now. On the floor. Banging the chair against the frame of the bed trying to get more to break, but it is a cheap motel frame and only succeeds in rocking them both. She hurts. She hurts so much. The jagged wood and dragging has scraped and opened wounds. The closer she gets to the girl the farther they seem from any feasible escape. But talking. There's some solace, some normalcy here. Maybe she can give the girl some comfort at least. They are still people. Joseph hasn't taken that from them yet.

"Your name's not Emily. What is it? Tell me your story. We deserve that. A good complete story." She rests her head on the floor, closing her eyes and just - attempting to find some peace in another's voice. She's a siren. Voices are entire worlds. Voices are power. "I was born in Siren Cove to a renowned adulterer and a pill-popping mother who likens herself to the height of society. When I was 3 I started singing and dancing. I was in my school play at 4 and never stopped. My parents thought I was too much, too wild and vibrant, so by the time I was old enough I spent all my free time on the boardwalk, performing for whoever would watch. That's how I met Leslie. He was my best friend. My everything as kids. And there was Owen and Lou... I grew up I got out, I found all the stardom that I ever wanted. I saw the world. They called me America's Sweetheart. But then... things happened. And I came back. But it was going to be better. It was going to be better..." It should make her cry. But there's peace here. She has lived. She has loved. All she can see is their faces now, and the scenes of her life. This is what they say happens before you die, isn't it? She is her memories now. They bring her peace.

Edited 2014-06-22 16:24 (UTC)

"Pickles and peanut butter," she said as she shook her head. "I really don't think I'm going to be making anybody much of anything, sorry to disappoint you." She's staring up at the ceiling, taking big, gulping breaths of air as the tears still just slipped back into her hair.

"He found out. He must have found out, I don't know how, but they told me to keep it quiet and I didn't, and now I'm here." Her voice cracked, because where Corrine's finding piece, Raleigh isn't. "My mom- Tell my mom, okay? It's Raleigh Harper. Tell my mom-" She can't stop crying, and she wonders why she had to break; why she had to tell Jason, why Aoife was here. Why the man who brought her here brought her to the place she was in danger, when he could have just left her in fucking Bangor or something.

Why this is where she was, now.

Suddenly, all she can think about is Jason's damned dog, about how she'd said she'd stop in and check on him and she hadn't - it makes no sense, what happens when you're staring death in the face. "Can you-" She was going to say something else, anything else, but she can hear the rattle of a door, and all she can do is make a strained noise of fear before it swings open.

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It's like she's there, again. TW: VIOLENCE/TORTURE

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