Deranged

Chapter Twenty One

Warning; this might be a bit messed up and rated r-ish. Laugh all you want while reading it; don't say I didn't warn you.

Ps: I DID NOT GET HIT IN THE HEAD WHILE I WAS A BABY... I only fell down a flight of stairs... And maybe a daycare janitor vacuumed up a chunk of my hair while I was laying on the floor... BUT BESIDES THAT

Anywho, I listened to a K Theory remix of Serial Killer by Lana Del Rey.
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[No Point of View]

He sat on the wooden bed, drumming his fingers against the flat surface as he stared at the ground with such a dazed look. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, his body completely free and clean from all of the dry blood. He had unzipped the jumpsuit down to his belly button, poking his arms out so that the top of the jumpsuit could drape around his waist, exposing his battered-half tattooed-muscles and the white wife beater hidden from underneath. He could only concentrate on the small, black line darting all over his vision. The odd thing confused him.

But, it also brought anger to him; his fists clutching onto the end of the wooden bed. He rocked back and forth, hushed words slipping from his mouth. "No," He yelled, letting go of the bed to smack the side of his head. He gripped onto his hair and shut his eyes tight. He knew exactly what the black line had been.

A guard not too far down heard his loud shout, and cautiously walked towards the cell to check on the boy. He squinted his eyes until he had found the boy sitting in the dark corner, rocking back and forth. He pulled out his flashlight and shone it on the boy, nearly dropping it at what he saw. He backed away and went to grab his keys. He patted the key strap that hung around his waist; but he couldn't feel the keys.

When he looked back at the boy, he noticed the shiny silver object dangling from the bloody hands. The boy whispered incoherent words as he dragged the tip of the key across the front of his arm. The guard had experienced a ton of jailers masturbating in their cell, but he'd never come across one whom was slitting a small part of his skin open while doing it. It was a mixture of yelling and moaning, which caused another guard to approach the cell in confusion.

"You pipe down now, boy!" The guard shouted as the boy rolled his head back and yelled for mercy.

"I-I'm not. . ." He panted heavily, barely able to say a simple sentence before he let out another moan. The guard banged the metal cell in hopes it would scare the boy, like it had to others. He opened his bloodshot eyes, biting his lip as he tried to control himself.

I know you want her bad, the voice whispered in his ear. He let out another painful yet delightful moan as he thought about his little cure. The cut on his arm wasn't too soothing, but he managed to block out the stinging as he focused on the joy and the slight bit of anger. He never planned on this; he just wanted to get the hell out before it was too late. But, there appeared to be other things a certain someone had in mind.

He clenched his teeth and glared at the guards, pulling his hand free from the bottom of his orange jumpsuit. He glanced down at his hand examining the purple veins scattered all over. He tried to fight off another odd urge as he dug his back into the dirty cemented wall. The guards scoffed and grumbled words as they walked away from his cell, angering Harry even more. He stood to his shaky feet and ran over to the cell door, punching it and cursing out the entire building.

When it became silent, Harry let out a long sigh, leaning his head against a bar. The sweat dripped down his face, relief washing over his tense body. But, it all soon faded when he felt a chill run up his spine. He straightened, not daring to turn around.

"I'd like to see you try," The menacing voice whispered in his ear, making him freeze. "I know what your dirty fucking mind wants."

"No," Harry suddenly whispered.

"She came back to the tunnel. She demands to see you," The voice replied-with a lie that Harry so quickly fell for.

"Don't pull any shit on her!" Harry yelled, tightening his fists as he once again punched the bar.

"No promises."

And suddenly, he found himself breathing properly. He immediately turned around, coming face to face with nothing. "Dammit," He muttered, running a rough hand through his hair. He couldn't quite understand how he was going to escape, but he knew he would find a way. It wouldn't be too easy, though.

As he sat down on the wooden bench, a pain shot through his leg, causing him to groan in agony. It slowly spread to the other leg before rising to his chest. His whole body was in sweet pain. A pain he couldn't quite bare at all. It was as if a thousand sharp knives were stabbing him all at once.

His head suddenly tilted back as he clawed at the white tank top, wanting to take it off. He ripped the front open, and glanced down, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He placed a shaky hand on the large cut, wincing before he stared at both his hands. Purple veins were sticking out everywhere. And just when he thought the pain had ceased, it started in his chest.

He stood up again, wondering what was wrong with him. "Just because I marked over you, doesn't mean you could get all pissed," He growled, walking around the room. He felt a sudden and hard push come from behind as he flew against the wall. The cement hit his nose, causing another nosebleed. Harry turned around, again seeing nothing.

"What are you gonna fucking do, huh?" Harry spat, wiping his bloody nose with the back of his hand as he glanced around the room. "I've got the rest of my life in here. Why not kill me, do something to enjoy yourself."

It suddenly turned to complete silence; a loud ring echoing through his ear. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, a slight cooling breeze running past him. He felt as if the room temperature was rising and rising, ending his little peaceful feeling. He trudged towards the cell bars, hitting and kicking it to get attention. When a guard approached him, he started to yell.

"It's fucking hot in here! You expect me to sleep when it feels like I'm sitting on the fucking sun!"

The guard shook his head and chuckled before he walked away. Harry banged the cell bar with one more punch. "You bastard!" He shouted before he peeled off his wife beater and threw it in anger. Every time he moved, it felt beyond uncomfortable. Sweat dripping down his burning body as he kicked the wall with his black shoe. "I give up," He muttered, clenching and unclenching his fists as he waited.

"I said I fucking give up!" He shouted, looking up to the ceiling.

"I just wanted to hear you say it louder," The voice chuckled as Harry's world slowly died down and turned to black.

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Author's Note -

I thought ahead if time, because I knew a few too many would be confused. Here's what went down: the devil came back to Harry, angry for the fact that they abandoned the tunnel. So, for his punishment, it was pain and torment since the devil knew the many things Harry wanted to do to Carter (Yes, in a sexual way, shhh) the Devil kinda forced Harry to enjoy himself and think about Carter in that way, which he felt uncomfortable doing in a jail cell. So yeah.

Don't make fun of me; you guys are the ones who want them to 'frickle frackle' and get a little action going on. Hahaha you so silly