Puppet Boy

10.

THE BRIGHT lights that circled the vanity Tyler was sat in front of nearly blinded him. He squinted his eyes, flinching away from it as The Man slowly ran his fingertips along the base of Tyler's throat.

"Look at yourself, you look so handsome," The Man whispered, his lips touching the shell of Tyler's ear.

Tyler didn't recognize the boy staring back at him in the cracked, dirt-smudged mirror. His reflection had discoloured, dark circles of flesh underneath his lifeless blue eyes. His unkempt blonde hair fell into his face, stubble also collected on his jaw. There were yellowing contusions across his eye, his cheekbone, and his jawline, also paired with fresh, dark-coloured bruises that were littered along beside them. His lip was cracked open, dried blood on his chin. There were also arbitrary splatters of crimson along his busted face and neck.

He blinked several times, his vision blurring slightly as The Man began to trail his fingers down Tyler's bare chest, laughing under his breath. Tyler was only clad in an unfamiliar pair of boxers that he had been forced into wearing, fully exposing his upper half to The Man's dangerous touch.

"Do you remember when you first came here?" The Man asked, tilting his head. "You were so scared, but now you've adjusted so well."

His words were muffled behind his ivory mask but Tyler seemed to hear each bone-chilling word clearly.

A muscle ticked angrily in Tyler's jaw, but his exhaustion was beginning to engulf him, and he was tired of showing emotion. He began to realize that maybe it was possible that he was just a doll. An emotionless, numb doll, void of life.

His head was resting on his shoulder, his limp, departed arms hanging over the sides of the chair.

"You're a doll, now. You're mine," The Man moved in front of Tyler, his sparkling eyes glistening in the light of the bulbs surrounding the vanity. "My puppet."

Tyler exhaled, his breath weak as he tried not to vomit from The Man's deep and guttural voice. It was all too eerie to him - the plain white mask that seemed to fit perfectly to his face and the way each of his words were over-accentuated, dragging his menacing sentences out.

"I love you very much, my Puppet Boy..." The Man dragged his greasy fingers down the dip of Tyler's cheekbone, staring into his eyes. "I get very upset when you talk back to me. And unfortunately, now you must suffer some consequences. I don't want to do this to you, but you leave me no choice."

Instantly, fear took over, and Tyler began to shake.

The Man lifted Tyler from the chair. He grunted, trying to hold up Tyler's tall body. He dragged him across the dirty floor of the darkened room, and Tyler's heart raced as he stared around at his surroundings.

There were racks of costumes and props piled in the corner. There was another vanity hidden in the corner as well, the lights turned off to allow it to blend into the thick blackness that engulfed the majority of the space. The room was the same as the rest; filth coated the stone floor, the walls were brick, and they all happened to hold the same lingering scent of mold.

He closed his eyes, the small sand-particles of dirt scratching at his bare skin as he was dragged roughly across the ground. There was a strange prop of a streetlamp placed against the wall, which The Man tossed Tyler into.

He began to sweat as The Man pulled a rope from his back pocket and grabbed both of Tyler's limp wrists, bringing them in front of him and tying them around the tall post.

"I'm sorry," Tyler tried to apologize, but his words disappeared into the heavy air as he heard The Man fumbling with something behind him. "I'm so, so sorry."

He knew that if he endured any more pain, he would die. He tried to brace himself for death, but he wasn't exactly sure how to, as the blaring roar in his ears eliminated the chance of him thinking coherently.

Tyler pressed his forehead to the cold prop, his eyes squeezing shut and his body shaking as he tried to mentally prepare himself for what was to come.

"When you talk back to your creator, this is what happens," The Man scolded from behind him, and his back was lashed with what Tyler figured was a whip.

The pain radiated throughout Tyler's back, and it was worse than anything he had ever felt before. It rocked his vision and sent waves of harsh agony throughout his body. He bit his lip as hard as he could and avoided the fresh blood that began to seep into his mouth as well from it. His breath was too heavy, his mind slipping in and out of reality with each gulp of air he gasped for.

"I am sorry, Puppet Boy," The Man apologized, slamming the whip into Tyler's back again. This time, Tyler screamed in pain, his throat raw. "But this is how we are disciplined in this house. This is how I was disciplined as well, and look where I am now. I would never disrespect my creator like you have."

Tyler's back was becoming just as numb as his arms and legs. Blood began to drip onto the floor from between his teeth again. He couldn't taste anything besides the overpowering taste of iron and salt.

The Man continued to whip him, again and again, laughing at Tyler's groans that echoed throughout the room as he tore into his flesh.

"Fuck," Tyler choked out. "Please! Please stop!"

Suddenly, The Man lashed him again with intense force, ripping the skin of his back. Tyler arched his spine, groaning in desperation.

"That was for swearing, Puppet Boy. You should know better."

Tyler was gasping for air, shaking on the ground. He began to wish death upon himself. The thought of his body shutting down, freeing himself of any further pain or disturbance - it sounded so sweet to him.

He used to fear death. When he was a child, he refused to cross the road. He refused to go in the ocean, and at one point he even refused to eat for the fear of choking to death. The simple thought of his demise would usually come with an overwhelming sense of anxiety and fear but at that moment, he wished for it. He begged for it.

The Man was quiet for several minutes, leaving Tyler to his own debilitating thoughts and gasps for air. He choked on his blood, spitting it out onto the floor. He coughed hard, nearly vomiting from the searing pain that had been inflicted on him.

He began to hear The Man sob from behind him. As he tried to steady his breathing, he gained some sort of sick pleasure from listening to The Man cry.

"I am so sorry, my beautiful Puppet Boy. Please, please forgive me," he sobbed, wrapping his arms around Tyler's trembling body. The wounds on his back stung and he cried out, making The Man flinch away from his marks. "I am so sorry! Tell me you forgive me, please!"

Tyler couldn't speak, his pain was swallowing him.

"Tell me!" The Man shouted, his tone laced with frustration and strangely, remorse.

"I f-f," he struggled to breathe. "I forgive you," Tyler finally forced, his lungs seeming to shrink.

"Good. I love you so much," The Man said, and Tyler felt his lips press against the side of his clammy cheek. "Tell me that you love me as well."

Tyler shook his head, tears falling from his eyes. "I- I l-ove you," he choked out.

The Man began to laugh with a childish excitement.

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