tw: abuse, strong language, and mentions of possible rape. yeah, this chapter is pretty fucked up.
-
Tom had woken up with an aching head, a constant pressure slamming against his skull with blunt force. The effects of the surgery had defiantly not worn off yet. But despite this, he was at ease. Content, maybe happy even. That was a stretch, but still. He was wrapped up in a burrito of familiar, fluffy blankets as the distant chatter of what sounded like a television could be heard from another room. The smell of bacon filled his nose, although he was pretty sure that it was late afternoon by that point. The last thing Tom remembered was falling asleep on Tord's shoulder after the procedure, which- wait!

He pulled his face out of the mass of blankets and blinked, being greeted by a full view of the room he was in. He sighed happily, basking in the sense he'd long been depraved of. Finally. It felt like forever since he'd been able to do this.

Tom took the time to glance around the room. It was the same one he'd been kept in for so long by now, with crimson colored walls and wooden furniture. Tord's room. And, he guessed, his room too. The desk situated in the corner of the room was still covered in stacks of papers and the same little cactus still rested on the windowsill. He took it all in, every little detail he'd previously taken for granted becoming engraved in his memory. It was comforting to truly know his surrounding for once.

The sound of the bedroom door creaking open brought Tom's attention back to the present. As expected, it was Tord, a small smile appearing on his lips as he noticed him.

"Morning, elske." Tord greeted, making his way over to Tom's bed side. "Feeling alright?"

He nodded, although the pain in his head was making it difficult to focus on anything at the moment. "Just a headache is all." He was soon greeted by a pair of strong arms pulling him up, carrying him out of the room.

Tom didn't protest, though he did mumble a quiet, "I can walk, y'know."

He was met with a short, accented chuckle. "I know. But you're in pain, so you don't need to." Did that man have superhuman hearing of something? He could've sworn that the words were barely audible. But hey, being an obsessive stalker comes with its benefits.

"Here. I made you breakfast."

Tom was placed at the kitchen table, a plate of eggs and bacon awaiting him. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten something like that. As he was about to start eating, he felt a warm hand being pressed up against his cheek.

For a moment his digital eyes shrunk in size, fear pulsating through his veins. Tom tensed up with an immediate expectation to be slapped.

But what he was met with was a thumb gently caressing his cheek and a concerned pair of grey eyes.

"Honey, what's wrong? You know I'd never hurt you." Tord whispered, his voice soft. "I was just checking something."

Tom let himself melt into the taller males touch as he slowly calmed again. "I-I..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Hey, look at me. It's okay. You're okay." Tord reassured, pressing a kiss to Tom's forehead. He pulled away although his eyes lingered on him with evident worry.

Tom hesitantly nodded and turned his attention back to the food as Tord wandered into the kitchen. He heard some rustling in cabinets, but mostly tuned it out and began to eat. He silently pondered Tord's recent change in behavior, which honestly, he was grateful for. No one had ever treated him with so much care and love. If Tom needed something, he'd quite literally come running despite what ever he was doing previously. He'd toned down his creepiness significantly, even if he still had his moments. But at least now he was hardly afraid of him.

Tord came back soon after he finished eating, holding a glass of water and some pills in his hands. "For your headache." He explained, setting the items down in front of him.

Tom give him a small nod of acknowledgement, mumbling a "Thank you." Before downing both the pills and the water. The cool liquid rushing down his throat was refreshing, calming almost. Although he wasn't exactly sure why.

"We have to do something important today." Tord said suddenly, gaining Tom's attention as he put the glass back down on the table. He looked up at him with a slight interest as he continued to speak. "So I need you to come with me, if you're feeling up to it."

Tom just nodded obediently, "Alright." He agreed, deciding that he felt good enough to do so. Tord smiled in response and reached down to grab his hand. He didn't even flinch as the taller male pulled him to his feet, leading him out of the room and into the hallways of the base. They were surprisingly empty that day. He was sure that he'd only seen one or two soldiers the whole duration of their walk, but they were both higher ups.

They came to a stop outside of a room as Tord's phone started to ring, making him roll his eyes and take it out of his pocket. Tom waited patiently as he talked to someone about something military related that he didn't understand. That led to him eventually realizing what room they were standing next to as his thoughts seemed to spiral. The torture room. He shivered, subconsciously taking a step closer to Tord. He was honestly surprised that it had taken him that long to recognize it.

Tord eventually finished his conversation and hung up, turning to Tom. "I'm sorry, honey. But I have to go take care of something. Do you mind waiting here for a little bit?" He asked.

Tom bit his lip slightly. This place really freaked him out, and he'd much rather be with Tord than here. He couldn't deny the feeling of safety he got from being with the all powerful male. Nonetheless, he nodded, not wanting to disrupt his work.

Tord pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, "I'll be back soon, I promise." He reassured before walking away.

Tom watched him until he was far from his field of vision, a small sigh leaving his lips. He leaned against the wall, trying to distract himself.

And that's when he heard those sounds.

Screaming. Screaming loud enough to shatter glass. There was wailing too, pleading. And an ensemble of sobbing and cheering. Tom knew immediately what was going on. He didn't want to look, didn't want to think about what was happening inside. But he was powerless to his own morbid curiosities as he put his hand on the door knob.

The oak door swung open to reveal much more than the usual scene. The room was completely crowed, filled to the brim with men and women in uniform. That explained where everyone was this morning, he supposed. But that crowd blocked his view completely, barricading him from finding the source of the... oddly familiar sound? Why did that voice sound so familiar?

Tom easily navigated through the soldiers, considering how small he'd come to be. He slid through group after group until finally, after nearly getting trampled multiple times, he found what he was looking for.

He regretted it.

There, in the middle of the crowd, on display for everyone to see, was his best friend. Well, ex best friend by that point. But that didn't matter right now. He was screaming in pain, completely naked as a familiar face held him up by his hair and a knife to his neck. The familiar face was carving words into his best friend's skin, anything that the crowd so desired. From what Tom could make out from where he was standing, those words ranges from 'Green army's biggest disappointment' to 'Waste of oxygen' and from 'Faggot' to 'Worthless twink.'

He nearly threw up.

Paul didn't seem to recognize him in the crowd, only the person that shouted out, "WRITE COCKSLUT!" From the back of the room. The crowed erupted into cheers, patting that soldier on the back. He seemed annoyed as he dragged the knife across Edd's shoulder, writing those exact words in sloppy, bloody letters. The male was crying out in pain each time the knife dug into his pale skin, sloppy tears running down his already bruised and blooded face. Tom frantically glanced around, only to find more people that he knew.

Matt was sobbing hysterically as Pat held him up, his limbs bound by a strong rope. He kept kicking and screaming, trying desperately to get out of his restraints. But Pat remained completely apathetic and only responded with holding him tighter. He appeared mostly unharmed physically, but mentally seemed to be a different story.

The soldiers around Tom were steadily becoming more rowdy. They wanted more action, at they were clearly vocal about it too.

"MAKE HIM CLEAN THE FLOOR WITH HIS TONGUE!"

"CHOKE HIM 'TILL HE PASSES OUT!"

"STICK YOUR DICK IN HIM!"

The crowd started chanting for that last one, demanding the Paul did exactly as they asked. Tom was starting to become dizzy, vision blurring. He felt like he might pass out from the words that seemed to circle around him. He thought he could trust Paul. Thought he could trust Pat-

"Thomas."

He whipped his head around as cold metal hand clasped his shoulder, gripping it with such tightness that he immediately knew he'd fucked up.