Dear princess, I'm sorry²||Five Hargreeves

♔︎𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓣𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓿𝓮

Tw: disturbing images of torture, blood, and semi self harm(?)
~~♔︎~~

Torture, pure torture, literally is what Five was going through, and he hadn't wanted to not die more than anything then as to right now.

In the last twenty-eight hours he had been beaten, crucially, and shivering from head to toe, as well as being deprived from sleep, which that part he was used to already. The two and a half days prior he was starving himself, he knew he wouldn't be able to "accidentally" cut his palms or take his anger out on himself if Y/n was around.

Now that he was being hurt by someone who wasn't himself, he regretted it all, the cuts, scars, the names he'd call himself, regret.

His mind was telling him that he was going to die this way, from a couple broken ribs and God knows what else has happened that he can't remember. One thing he did know is that his jaw hurt like hell, he tasted blood, knowing the hit was that bad.

He sat on the floor on the cold concrete feeling floor, same for the walls and ceiling. It was like a box made out of rock, because that's what it basically was. His mind was a million miles per hour, everything raced.

Just drop dead, they'll dispose of your body like you're nothing and that'll be the end of it.

That was an option he had opted for in the beginning, but as the beatings continued he regretted it all. He was afraid of dying at that moment. It started out as being held by his arms while the other guy went to town on him.

When he began to fight back he hit in the face a couple times as a warning, he didn't listen to the warning and was pushed harshly into the wall, hitting the back of his head.

Then the ringing sound came back like the day before, he felt so tired, but buckets of ice cold water would be poured onto him. It also didn't help he had backed into the corner after they let him go, he was already freezing as it is.

His body was numb, he felt nothing but pain everywhere, he wanted to close his eyes so so badly, but he didn't want them to come in a third time, dumping that cold water on him.

"Beidh tú .. beidh tú ceart go leor, beidh tú ag dul amach as seo beo" he chanted to himself quietly, barely above a whisper all while he hugged his knees to his chest.

He tried to make himself as small as possible, hoping he would magically fit in one of the cracks in the wall. His mind felt more twisted being in this hell hole than when he was at the Commission for ten years.

The squeaking of the door opening pulled him away from his dark thoughts and quiet chanting, he didn't look to see who it was, he knew it was a guard. But from the corner of his eye he saw him holding something.

It wasn't a bucket though.

Before he could figure out what it was, a rag was placed over his mouth, he tried to thrash around to get away, but had been too weak to do anything. Water was poured over the rag in his mouth, they're trying to drown me.

He coughed and choked through the cloth, the water seeping through and down his throat without permission. For a moment he couldn't breathe, then he suddenly could. The rag was no longer blocking one of his airways, he continued to cough, catching his breath.

Then the door shut, he hunched himself over, coughing up some of that water, he held his stomach while he now vomited water. You've been in this position before, remember? He felt tears start to fill his eyes, immediately wiping them away "Shut up, just shut up" he whispered to himself.

Except now, they're slowly killing you and you don't even care, he shook his head while he still panted slightly "I do care, I do" he knew he was losing his mind by talking to himself. He was alone, so there was nobody to judge him for it.

His sanity was lost at a young age, and right now it was completely gone. He knew that he could possibly only have minutes or even seconds to live, his body could betray him at any given moment.

It was hard for him to keep his eyes open, he wanted to sleep more than ever. But he fucking couldn't, even if was only able to close his eyes. He laid down on his side, curling up into a ball with his back toward the door.

Somehow Five convinced himself to fall asleep, even if it meant waking up drenched in cold water.

—————

He woke drenched in cold water.

Along with being beaten almost half to death, again.

Five didn't know how he managed to sleep through it, maybe he died for a minute, it was the only thing that he could possibly think of.

He felt like he couldn't move, at all. For a second he thought that he was paralyzed, but quickly regarded that thought when he clenched his hand into a fist, being the only part of him that didn't hurt.

Eventually, after several tries, cursing, and whimpers of pain, he got himself up and sat leaned up against the wall.

His wrists started to hurt, but why did they hurt? Why did both of them hurt? He so happened to look down, blood covered them, fresh blood. He felt tears fill the corners of his eyes, all of that progress and for what?

He felt like that he couldn't breathe, he was so angry at himself. Why did he go to sleep?

Not feeling like he could breathe then led to him feeling nauseous and sick to his stomach, then it led to him to throwing up and crying like a baby. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting like a child right now?

He needed to get to out.

But every single idea he thought of would end up not working out for him.

—————

Five's mumbling a lullaby while he holds his knees up to his chest, he hasn't dared to try and close his eyes for more than a second since earlier.

He watched the sun come up, it was beautiful, considering where he was. His wrists still hurt, they're covered in dried blood now.

Part of him wanted to get up, but he hurt to much. Only getting his knees up to his chest hurt like hell, he could only imagine what it would be like trying to stand up.