killer's choice | {zeke/parker/killer}

[arx!!]

Zeke can't remember when his whimpering turned to screaming again.  He remembers the panic that swelled in his chest the moment he realized Parker had a boot pressed against her throat instead of a hammer against her foot though.  And he remembers how certain he'd been that if he didn't try to spit fire and prod with a hot brand the way she was that- that she'd end up swinging from the rafters with Cleo.

But he couldn't force the words to come out, the furious, desperate screams of a broken boy- trapped.  He fought against his chains again, trying his hardest not to let fresh tears fall.  His mouth opened but the words still didn't come out—his tears tasted a lot like failure when he swallowed, gasped, eyes searching frantically for a way to make this all stop.  As if there were a switch he'd simply missed flipping.

"STOP! STOP IT!"

And he's actually relieved.  He even fucking sighs the instant the boot falls and she coughs for air.  As if a moment of bravery could cleanse him of the guilt devouring his soul.

But-

This was worse than before.  More force, more anger, more. fucking. swings- he closed his eyes and shook against his chains until he didn't even have to close his eyes anymore.  Everything swayed beneath him and he felt like he was falling through the world, tumbling haphazardly, air yanking him by his limbs and threatening to rip them from their sockets. The air still hurt to breathe; a smarter person would've opted for time beneath the surface again to drown out the screaming.  And Zeke was smart.  He was just more terrified.

None of this should be happening.  He sits quietly while his vision comes back into focus, breathing quick and disjointed, but his senses seem to sharpen to jagged points until all he can hear is the scuffling of heavy boots.  He gags on what tastes like freezerburnt meat mixed with cleaning agent, chalk dust, and something terribly sour as he raises his head. His gaze darts from the footprint upon Parker's neck, to something glinting in the low light upon the table nearby, and then to the chains keeping him trapped—if a boy and a girl die in the woods and no one is around to hear, do they make a sound?

He bit his tongue, on purpose this time, to keep himself from the same fate as Parker, yes.  But even as he shied away from the agonizing terror and selfishly ate more than his fair share, he was forcing himself to bite down until all he tasted was blood, and all he could hear was a single word crackling and echoing in his skull.

If he woke up tomorrow the same exact way Cleo and Naomi both had, he wanted to make sure that he remembered who he'd be searching for.

"Nooo, no, s-stop- wait!"

Even murderers have family.