A Fugitive's Guide To Romancing dangerous Men[BxBxB+]

6: The Killer

The past:

-Miles Murphy-

Every day was the same for Miles.

Breakfast, if one could call it that, was slid into his room on a flimsy plastic tray. A few hours later the guards would come in, chain his legs and arms together, and march him outside for ‘enrichment’. Afterwards, lunch would be slid into the room through the same slot in the door, followed a bit later by dinner.

Twice a week, between lunch and dinner, he would be restrained and marched further into the maze of halls and rooms to visitation where his shrink or his, ‘friend’ as he called himself, would fruitlessly attempt to pick his brain with incessant questions and theories.

Occasionally, Dr. Maxwell would grow so bold as to attempt to bait a reaction out of him.

The doctor thought himself so sly, casually mentioning his twin, his siblings, stepmother, or late father. Miles never gave him what he wanted. It was the only real source of entertainment he had left within those dark walls.

When that didn’t work, Dr. Maxwell would occasionally resort to bribery.
Offering him candy in exchange for any sort of reaction. Those moments frustrated Miles to no end.

It felt nothing short of patronizing and childlike and he’d find himself descending into drawn out fantasies involving brutally murdering the irritating doctor with his bare hands.

Although he knew he could escape if he really wanted too, he simply didn’t care to try. He had no reason, other than killing Lael. He would, someday. Or, so he told himself in those quiet moments where sanity seemed like it was hanging by a thread, ready to snap and leave him as dumb as the guards all seemed to assume he was.

The chime for after lunch outdoor time had woken Miles from his light sleep and he glared at the ceiling.
Already annoyed, he ignored the sound. For some reason, the guards hadn’t come to retrieve him for his scheduled outdoor time and he found himself more irritable than usual.

He liked being outside, even as under stimulating as it was. Although being outside of his cell was a much needed break from the nearly overwhelming monotony of his current situation, it wasn’t enough of a reprieve to justify waking him when there was so little else to do.

He was still laying in bed mulling over the fine intricacies of dismembering an adult human and arranging them in a way that could shock someone into a heart attack, when he heard his cell door being unlocked.

Intrigued, he sat up. This was a change in the rigid routine they had set for him. He knew they believed it was necessary to keep him calm… How naive they were.

Two guards came in, looking more apprehensive than usual. One was holding the restraints they relied so heavily on to permit them some sense of safety in his presence. It had been amusing for a while, but had started to become just as monotonous as the rest of his confinement.

Standing, he allowed them to cuff his ankles and wrists, sliding the chains through the belt fastened around his waist.

He hated that part.

Their hands so close to his body, touching even briefly against him before one, or if they were feeling brave, both would take one of his arms in an attempt to move him where they wanted him.

Stepping out of his cell, he was still picturing how easy it would be to smash one of them into the wall with his elbow. He could probably kill both using such a simple method. But, then he wouldn’t get to find out what this sudden change in his day was about, and it didn’t seem worth it.

He could hear the hushed murmuring of other inmates behind him but he didn’t bother to pay attention. They weren’t worth his time.

That was… until someone walked directly into him.

Momentarily forgetting to keep his strength in check, he turned, easily yanking out of the guards hands as he pinned his stare on the person who’d been stupid enough to approach him from behind.

He stilled the moment he saw him.

The young man was sitting on the ground looking slightly stunned to no longer be standing. He was rather pale and his warm brown eyes slowly trailed upwards, widening as his head lifted higher and higher.

As soon as their gazes met, Miles felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Curiosity.

The small male was clearly terrified as he was dragged to his feet by one of the other guards. Miles could tell he was doing his best not to break eye contact, and he felt a small glimmer of respect for that.

Most people were terrified to even look at his masked face, much less hold eye contact. Those who did were usually foolish enough to make a challenge out of it… but that wasn’t the case with him.

Miles had the urge to reach out and grab him, but stopped himself. If he did that now he’d be manhandled back into his cell and the subject of his interest would be removed.

He knew how the guards were. If they thought he was going to kill someone, they took away the temptation before he could act on it.

Then, Wiep spoke and he couldn’t help the way his hands clenched. He fucking hated Wiep. Of all the guards, he pissed him off the most.

The horrible little coward liked to torment the inmates, himself included, to try and get a rise out of them. If he succeeded,(he never had with Miles), the guard would then violently, and often times brutally, subdue them by whatever means he had at his disposal.

The urge to reach up and snap his neck was almost overwhelming.

Keeping his gaze firmly on the smaller male, and he was rather short, Miles fought the urge. He wanted to observe him for a time, he decided, and if he so much as looked at Wiep he knew he’d lose control.

Wiep actually did something useful for once. Shoving the boy forward, he ordered. “Come on, introduce yourself.”

“H-hi, my n-name is Bruce. I, uh, I like your mask, sir.”

Miles wasn’t sure how to react to such a statement.

It certainly was… different.

Bruce. He was different from the others.

He didn’t belong in St. Raphael Sanitarium.

He belonged someone bright and warm, not this hellhole.

Barely hearing Cole barking at Wiep and the others, he turned to watch as Bruce ducked past him, hurrying outside.

He Moved forward without a hint of protest when the guards once again pulled at his arms and silently pondered on how to gain more time with the young man.

He wasn’t done with him.

***
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Bruce is 16 and Miles is 19 in this flashback.

God, I hate myself, and this chapter.