Captured (BoyxBoy)

Welcome ...

neu·rot·ic
n(y)o͝oˈrädik/
adjectiveMEDICINE
1.
suffering from, caused by, or relating to neurosis.
noun
1.
a neurotic person.

Returning wasn't easy. Especially with the house on shut down. A tall man, with dark hair, with rings on his fingers, rushed up to us giving off a serious manor, telling us that we've captured an intruder on our land. Damien pushed me behind him and ordered two men to take me to the room.
"I want to go with you".
"No"
"Bu-"
"No means no, now go!" His voice raised and ordered me like an alpha would to his beta not his mate. Tears raised in my eyes truly realizing how weak he must see me. When I was about to turn away he took my chin in his hand before pulling our foreheads together.
"Look, I just want you to be safe. If this person is no threat I will send someone to come get you, but right now I just need to know you're safe". I mumbled a quick "mhm" with tears running down my face trying to hold them in.
I was escorted to my room watching Damien urgently leave with the ring man. I couldn't even have the rest of the day, nope all of this had to happen as soon as we set foot in the house.
At an rapid speed I arrived in the room. They made sure all windows were shut and locked all doors. They both stood in opposite corners of the room looking straight ahead of them into the nothingness. They were like trained soldiers who had mastered the practice of stillness; I couldn't even tell if they were breathing.
I just want to know what's going on, and I know asking Damien's trained slaves won't get me anywhere. I sat down on the soft bed facing the wall. Maybe it'll calm my nerves if I just breath. This is probably just nothing. Who am I kidding? It has to be something, it can't be nothing.
I took off my shoes that were now uncomfortable and threw them carelessly on the floor. Once I stared at them long enough I realized I should probably put them neatly in the closet. Shit! I have to pee. What if someone comes to get me and I'm busy peeing? I'll just have to go really quickly. I stole a sly glance at the 'soldiers' before briskly tip-toeing into the bathroom.
Whoo, once I let it go some tension actually escaped my body. I was a little calmer now, not much, but just enough to let myself not go insane. I washed my hands slowly trying to ease the nerves in my hand. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. I will be okay, I can get through this.
I still didn't believe myself, but I'd fake it 'till I make it. I went back into the room and grabbed a blank piece of paper. I don't want the 'soldiers' to know where I hide my story. I picked up a pencil and started to write from where I left off.
Itching at your skin trying to get the grime off it not a great lifestyle. People say I'm lucky I got out, most people don't. Yet why should I be lucky - damn it! My pencil broke, how would I finish writing to Elaine? Huffing I walked over to the little boy in the room and stole his pencil. He pouted and whined, but he'd forgive me later. Anyways, I'm not lucky. I have to live with these images, live with screams constantly going off in my head. I've been diagnosed with Schizophrenia because I reenact what has happened to me. How can reliving a memory be a disease. I'm not sick- I'm not sick just scared, a little mental. But I don't have a disease, this is not a disease. If I was lucky I'd have been one of the people that got burned to death. They're dead now, at peace, they don't have to relive their nightmares. They say I got away but I'm still there I'll always be there ... I know that's not what you want to hear though so just pretend that I'm fine and dandy.
Love- Carl.
"Excuse me sir, sir". My head snapped up quickly to the tallest out of the two. I was so deep in my story I didn't even realize they were calling me.
"Yes".
"Damien is requesting your presence". I jumped out of the bed promptly putting on my comfortable moccasins.
"Let's go".