Welcome Home, Little Thief (Dark SBI)

Chapter Four- Desert Mirage

A/N

I return! (i say like its been a while and its only been 3 days since I last posted a oneshot lmao)

Plenty of trigger warnings for this chapter because Tommy... definitely Goes Through It.

Warnings for: burns, throwing up, panic attacks, and flashbacks to an abusive household. Please read carefully!

Anyways, hope you guys enjoy! <3

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As soon as the door slammed shut and the resounding thud finished echoing across the room, Tommy screamed.

"Come back here you fucking bastard!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, desperately yanking at the chain around his foot despite the man's previous warnings. All he could see was a red tint in his vision and an rage so severe it left tears in his eyes. "Don't you fucking dare hurt her or I'll kill you! I swear to Prime, I will!"

He was met with no response other than his own ragged breathing, borderline hyperventilation. His palms burned at his useless tugging, but he was past the point of caring about pain as tears raced down his face.

"Don't hurt her! Please, I don't care what I have to do, just don't hurt her!" his voice cracked as he collapsed onto his side, slamming a fist into the wall. The resounding bang that rattled his arm was music to his ears, but only further fueled his frustration as his hand began to ache, dark bruises forming on his knuckles in patches.

The voices schreeched in anger at that, a familiar presence watching at the edges, but Tommy couldn't gather the willpower to feel fear.

He instead began to sob, cradling his hand against his chest as fire raced through his veins. The temptation to free himself of his chains, to march to wherever the sick fuck was keeping him, and to drain him into a husk just as he nearly had to his sister was overwhelming. Tommy choked on a tear at the further thought of his family.

Was it wrong that he missed them? That he'd rather be back in that hellhole than be stuck in this room?

At least, in here, they didn't hurt him.

He let out a strangled cry, twisting to bury his face into the pillow as he curled into a ball. Each breath felt as though it were scrapping his throat with a chisel, leaving him to gasp desperately despite his attempts to smother his cries.

Be quiet, the voice of his sister hissed. Otherwise he'll hear you.

Tommy listened, holding his breath and gripping the pillow as though it were a lifeboat. The fabric muffled the weak whimper that escaped his mouth, satin stained with tears. One of his nails sliced open a thin line of his palm.

Tommy sucked in a deep breath and screamed.

The sound felt deafening yet relieving as it pounded through his ears. It was a comfort, one he'd used for years while living his past life locked in his bedroom with the occasional visit from his mother. The ability to let loose every thought in an exhausting shriek left him feeling empty, inhaling sharply to scream again, and again, and again until his face turned red and he coughed as his lungs frantically gasped for oxygen.

The pain only made Tommy cry even harder, wishing Puffy would burst through the door to hold him through his sobs, showing him how to breathe through the hysteric panic.

Tommy's hands shook as he curled himself into an even smaller shape, the thought of Puffy's mutilated corpse, sacrificed to some malevolent being, flickering in his blurry vision.