Sinister Addictions
Bee (Bumble)

This book is dedicated to
Sarah Moss
And
Kaitlin Bereczky

1: Behind Closed Doors

Pain! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt any pain this intense. Skye forced his eyes to open, trying to remember exactly where he was and how he got there. His arms hurt, his legs throbbed, his back ached, and even places unmentionable gave the occasional twinge.

“Am I dreaming?” Skye tried sitting up by the damned room wouldn’t quit spinning. In his delirium, he thought he recognized the bare walls and the chains draped from the ceiling, but the room tilted violently again. If it would just hold still everything would be okay. He felt hot and literally sticky. His bare skit was fused to the sheet less mattress that he’d been carelessly thrown on. His lips were dry and ached for water, his body cried out for a hot shower, and a major dose of painkillers. He tried to lick his lips, but discovered then that he had a bad case of cottonmouth.

“What the fuck happened to me?” Skye’s voice, usually rough around the edges, came out high and cracked. Hoarsely he called out to the room but his voice barely carried. “Hello?”
“Oh, I see you’re awake finally,” A tall man stepped through the door then. His long fingers were closed around an inviting glass of water. Skye peered at the man, the sloping shoulders and magnificent swoop of blonde locks, eyes so blue that the ocean could have been poured into them… Skye sighed in relief, he knew this pretty face.

“Percy. Thank god it’s only you,” He let his eyes close, chasing some of the pounding in his head away.

“Who were you expecting?” The voice could have been mistaken for a woman’s if you weren’t looking his way. It was soft and matched the pale complexion with perfect blue eyes.

“The devil,” Skye admitted, ignoring the look he was receiving, and asked “What did you do to me this time? I feel like someone dropped a shit load of bricks on me.”

Percy eased Skye’s head up and a moment later, cool water slid easily down his parched throat. The feminine blonde set it aside and flicked a piece of the sticky hair out of Skye’s hazel eyes. It was over, and now it was time to care for his expensive pet.

“You don’t remember? You came to me and—“

“Needed money, begged you to fuck me, sold my body like the little slut I am…Yeah, yeah I know all of that. What I want to know is what you did to me, you damn dick isn’t that big and I feel like I wont be able to walk, let alone sit for the next week,” Skye sounded impatient, sore, and a little agitated.

Percy blushed, when he was not in one of his violent, sadistic moods, he actually came off as very shy and innocent. Skye knew he was neither, he’d suffered at the end of those whips before, and more physical ones than the lightning blue eyes could lash out.

“Well I did screw your brains out like you asked me to…”

“Percy Wilde,” Skye narrowed his eyes, fixing the quivering man with a hard stare, “It feels as though you punched my intestines up into my throat.”

“I pretty much did…”

“What…?” It took a moment to register in Skye’s still hazy mind, but when it clicked he was not a happy camper. “You shit face!” He shouted, unable to control the momentary rage. His body, his beautiful body was used to a normal beating, but this…this was too much. Percy seemed to want to cripple him. “How could you do something like that to me!? You know I walk home! Do you have any idea how much pain I’m in you dolt?!”

Percy’s eyes darkened then and Skye knew he’d gone too far. “Yes, I know all kinds of pain.”

“Shit, Percy, I didn’t mean to… Look, forget that, how many times did you hit me?” Skye tried to quickly change the subject, frantically almost it seemed as he stretched and tenderly fingered a rather deep wound on his side. He knew all about Percy’s childhood, he didn’t really want to bring it up again unintentionally.

“I hit you as many times as you deserved Skye.”

“Well what the hell did I do? Shit load of bricks man…don’t you remember? I’m not even that bad!” He laughed to cover up his nervousness.

“You wouldn’t stay! You told me no! Again and again and again! No matter how many times I hit you, your answer is always the same!”

Oh great, Skye closed his eyes again and pillowed his head on his hands. This was exactly what he needed to hear, Percy having another one of his episodes about Skye. With any luck it wouldn’t last very long.

Breathe, breathe, so hard to breathe! Run! Run more! Run faster! His mind screamed at him. Jonais didn’t know where he was heading, where he was running, but anywhere was better than where he had been. He skirted around the corner and into an alleyway where he leaned against the wall, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

“I need a light,” He pulled a half smoked, twisted joint from his pocket and a pink lighter that he’d stolen from his mother. A few quick hits later, Jonas spat on the ground with utter distaste. I’m no better than they are, so why am I running again? I’m no good either if this is what I resort to. Tears fell though he willed them not to, and he sank down to the cold dirty ground. Hidden behind heaps of trash long forgotten, Jonais seemingly magically produced a small silver razor from the pocket of his faded hoodie. Yet something else he’d stolen from his mother. She was stoned out of her mind half the time and didn’t even notice him snitch her coke razor.

I promised my friends I wouldn’t do it ever again. The blade sparkled in the moonlight, almost as if it called to him, tempted him. I can’t do it. But the blade held his lime green eyes, some evil spell binding his soul to it. He placed it carefully between his lips, giving in to its call and rolling his sleeve up past his elbow. It didn’t hurt; it never did, not like the first time.

“It flows like water,” Jonais watched in utter fascination as the blood ran down the length of his forearm and pooled into the crook of his elbow. He missed how thick his blood used to be, but remembered that it was thin due to all the harm he caused himself, and the amount of weed he smoked didn’t help much either. “Where did I read that again?” It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the warm, red liquid oozing and pooling at the inside of his elbow, a trickle dripping down the side and staining his favorite jeans. “I’m sorry I broke my promise,” Jonais murmured to nothing.

He always promised his friends that he would stop, and somehow, someway something would happen, and he’d start all over again. This had been his record, an entire two weeks. It had damn near killed him, gotten him killed. Old scars, new scars, scabs, and a fresh red line decorated his forearms and upper arms. Slashes were prominent all down his stomach, across his chest as well, where—on his worst days—he would dream of cutting his heart out.

“My idle hands do play,” He murmured again, tucking the razor away now that the euphoria and excitement of cutting again had worn out. Doing the best he could, he licked the blood away, savoring the coppery red taste, and hid the sick mutilations again. “Now to find a place to stay for the rest of the night.”

“Shower if you want,” Percy was saying, and Skye heard him, but seemed oblivious. A cigarette hung from his thin lips, and tendrils of smoke flowed into the air. Percy touched his arm gently, “Skye?”

Skye jumped, pulling the smoke from between his lips and nodding. “I heard you. I’ll shower and leave.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Percy quietly said, helping Skye to sit up and swing his legs over the bed. Knowing that he’d done enough damage for one night he mentioned it not any further, only enveloped his favorite toy in a warm hug. “Would you like me to bandage your wounds afterwards?”

“Witch doctor,” Skye hissed, blowing a thin stream of smoke and flicking his cigarette into an ashtray that rested on the bedside table. “One hand causes pain, one hand will heal. Of course I want your magic touch so I can actually walk out of here.”

When Skye refused to respond to the hug, Percy stood in a very businesslike way, hiding the fact that his eyes now shimmered with tears that wouldn’t fall. “I’ll be cleaning up out here then, come get me when you’re finished.”

“Alright,” Skye crushed out his smoke and grunted as he stood. He remembered to walk like it didn’t hurt, but he wasn’t fooling himself one bit, hopefully the hot water would help.

In the bathroom, where the walls were yellow, cracked, and old, where the sink had rust stains down to the drain, and the tub that looked as if it hadn’t seen a cleaner in ages—Skye examined himself. He now could see what caused him so much pain. Cuts, really tiny cuts, all over his body. Percy had done a number on him this time. Down his arms, across his back, and on the tenderest of spots even, his inner thighs. Dried blood ran in tell-tale paths down his limbs. He flexed his arm in front of his face, noticing how some of the wounds opened up like eyes, and those eyes began to cry again.

Skye’s hair was a mess, he tried lifting it up, but found that it was fused to his back, stuck in the drying blood and clear seeping ooze as his body tried to mend itself back together. With great care, he separated a handful and brought it into view. He almost cursed aloud when he seen that the tips and various other spots had turned a nasty rust red. Hair that had once been an almost shockingly honey blond was now dirty and stained. With the luck that Skye possessed, it would never come out.

Jonais sighed heavily, not exactly pleased with his shoddy sleeping arrangements, but anything was better than nothing. He propped his back against the cold bricks and extended his legs across the small doorway. “At least there is somewhat of a roof over my head,” The joke was pathetic but it eased his mood. He knew it wouldn’t rain tonight anyways. As he stared at the smog filled sky, he thought that if the earth hadn’t been so polluted, he would’ve been able to see the stars. Pulling out his joint again he picked out the biggest, brightest star he could imagine in his half-asleep mind.

The weed helped him to relax; it softened his muscles and quieted everything in his mind. Rolling up his sleeve a bit he picked at the tender new cut until it began to bleed again. The razor was snug in his pocket, he didn’t need it right now, and his dirty fingernails did the trick. He let the blood flow, imagining he was sinking in it, warmed by it. He pretended that he could no longer feel the cold cement beneath his bottom, or the frigid bricks pressing hard into his back. He was floating away in a sea of his own blood. He turned to look up at his star one last time, “Please help me escape,” but from what, he couldn’t bring himself to think.

The water that sprayed out of the shower head was a pissy yellow at first, ten gradually returned to a semi-state of normal. Skye stepped under the host spray and winced immediately. It felt like hot little knives penetrating his throbbing skin, torturing him though with how good it felt sliding down his legs. After a moment his flesh took on a numbed feeling and it didn’t hurt anymore. He soaped up his hair, letting the suds clean him off, and a few minutes later, he stepped from the shower. If he wasted too much time, Percy may not let him leave tonight. The room still tilted slightly, but at least it had stopped doing flips. Skye shook out his honey colored mane and snaked a faded, thin towel around his narrow waist.

Percy seemed slightly out of it when Skye finally called him into the bathroom after tenderly combing all the water out of his locks. The not-so-innocent man’s hands were less than gentle, and he seemed to want Skye to leave more than anything, yet still managed to radiate a need for him to stay. Forever. More than happy to leave though, Skye dressed himself afterwards, took his money, and quietly headed home after guiltily placing a chaste kiss to Percy’s lips.

He pocketed the large sum of cash and lit up another cigarette, allowing his mind to wander along the walk home. Percy Wilde, his number one customer when it came down to really needing money. All of the others just wanted hand jobs or blowjobs, and the occasional fuck, but Percy went the whole nine yards, every single time. Skye’s body ached to prove it, but the pain, to him, was well worth the money. He sucked on the cancer stick and blew playful smoke rings into the air. Dawn was rapidly approaching long before he arrived home.

“I’m starving,” Skye moaned to no one as he lazily opened his cupboards, knowing they were all empty. Grabbing his last apple and a glass of water he flopped himself down on his bed. He winced hard and promised himself that he would go out after he got a few hours of sleep. “I’ll go to the market later,” He said after he finished his apple and silenced his stomach for a bit at least. Covering up with his favorite—only—comforter he drifted off into a deep, almost coma-like, sleep.