A Sting of Conscience (Eddsworld) ♢ SLOW UPDATES ♢

[5] Historical Recurrence

"Tord, is that you?"

Tord stared into space before taking the time to shake his head.

"No," he said, almost with a quavering voice. He knew his obvious accent was the one that gave his identity away, but he just couldn't get rid of it. His words were a transparent glass mask, trying to cover up his intentions, but did nothing else than reveal his deceptive nature.

"No," Tord averted his eyes as he reiterated.

"Come on, I know it's you! I can tell from the accent," Edd tried. "Please, Tord. It's alright. I promise we won't hurt you."

"Yet," Tom mumbled, quaking with anger from a distance.

Tord was tiny enough to hear even whispers because of his size, similar to how one hears a howl of the wind. He shuddered. Not in fear, but almost in disgust.

Tord naturally wasn't scared of Tom. Not even quite intimidated. He was always this drunken mess on the living room floor that giggled like a child after some Smirnoff. It was revolting, a poor sight for the eyes. But now, Tom was powerful. Tord could sense it. Tom, the usual drunkard, had enough reasons to rip Tord apart and chop his body into the tiniest pieces. He had the strength, all the abilities to do so. He could also get away with it. Tord was vulnerable now. Powerless. Possibly quashed in an instant. All Tom needed was to execute his kill.

"Hello? Earth to little tiny man?" Matt asked. "Edd, is he okay?"

"He's shaking," Edd said. "He must be pretty scared. You know, of us."

After Edd mentioned it, Tord winced before attempting to stop his uncontrollable shivering. He felt pathetic. He knew that he could probably die at any given moment, but he still felt as if his body was begging for mercy.

Disgusting, Tord thought. His entire mind was filled with thoughts of disgust.

"It's alright, little buddy!" Matt said, patting Tord's head with care. "You don't have to be afraid!"

Tord tried to swat Matt's hand away, but he forgot he was wrapped inside the ginger's fist, both arms trapped underneath. He frowned instead, holding back briny tears. All the moves he made gave away his feelings.

The glass mask was broken.

"Whoa, hey. It's okay, really." Edd reassured. Tord almost cringed at the cheesiness of how the words sounded.

In all honesty, it made him want to cry.

Edd looked Matt right in the eyes. "Y'know? You should probably put the little guy down. If I were him, I'd be too scared to talk while gripped like that, too."

"No way!" Matt cried, shoving Tord away from Edd's reach. "I already told you, he's my tiny man! You can't take him away from me, stupid!"

"Don't whip him around like that, he's not an action figure!" Edd scolded.

"Why don't we like... put him in a cage, or a dollhouse? Somewhere to dump him in?" Tom suggested, beginning to rub his neck again.

Matt stared blankly at Tom's face, while Edd nodded.

"Good idea."

* * * * *

Not more than thirty minutes later, Tord found himself tied up in a piece of red yarn inside a junky dollhouse. The dollhouse he was in had color schemes of lavender and carnation pink. It was sort of dusty and ancient, coated in cobwebs, and designed with rock-hard pillows and inaccessible closets. This place did not look like home in the slightest.